Much That Is Hidden

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I had not heard the song "Keep Me In Your Heart" for some time when my brother reminded me about it the day Dad died. It was written by Warren Zevon after he knew he was dying from cancer. He wrote it primarily for his wife, but I'm sure he must have known what a beautiful masterpiece it was that Muse gave him for all who suffer loss.


Here is a cover of the song by LiliAna Rose, lovely of voice, face and name:

Labels: music, photography, remembrance

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Y'all know I loves me some Gram. One of the things I like most about him is the solid legacy (as opposed to the romantic, at times embellished one) he's left for musicians that paralleled and came after him. GP's "Cosmic American Music" reverberates through the Stones and the Dead, the Lemonheads, the Jayhawks and Beck just to name a few. His brilliance was certainly not in his guitar chops and perhaps barely in his voice, but moreover in his turn of a lyric.

That said, I present the masterful Wilco (Chitown represent!) to interpret a little Parsons ditty apropos for any time but so much now, a cautionary tune of paradoxical optimism:

Labels: "I Likes", every blue light cheap hotel, heroes, music, soul, words

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Anitaxanaxnow has presented a musical conundrum for which my contribution (I do not say solution) merely adds a 50 percent markup.

The Procol Harum song A Whiter Shade of Pale has been covered by various artists over its 40-year history, with most versions (here it comes) paling in comparison. Against the original Anita pits a live 1981 performance by Joe Cocker, perhaps on the tail end of his prime. It is, like so much that went before in Cocker's career, a sweet and awesome expression of one of rock's greatest songs, but I don't believe it attains the grandeur of the original creation. I've only experienced maybe three or four covers of any song that ever did (how about you?), and one of those is this performance of the song by the great but tragic saxophonist "King" Curtis Ousley from a recording in March 1971 at the Fillmore West in San Francisco.

Featured in the lineup with King (opening for Aretha Franklin) were singer/keyboardist Billy Preston and the Memphis Horns. Preston's Hammond B3 is the perfect soulful counterpoint to King's alto sax, which reaches a couple of fine crescendos here. I think the S.F. flower children attending this run of three shows out of curiosity or lack of anything better to do may have had pleasantly tingling spines through much of King's performance. As to whether or not this helps solve Anita's hippie conundrum, well...(note: you may, like myself, not know quite what to make of the montage accompanying the audio - it was the only version I could find. Anyone recognize the films?)



The sad footnote to this is that King Curtis was murdered later that year, cutting short a brilliant career. Aretha Franklin sang at his funeral.
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Labels: music

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Reg'lars here know about Chattaboogie's Friday Nightfall free summer concert series (posted about at least once). Since Max was born our attendance at the weekly fete has been sparse, but we were committed to get there last night to see one of our favorite artists, Michelle Shocked. We originally had planned a kid-free date night but had to scramble for alternate plans for lack of a babysitter. We decided to venture out with the boy in tow, so we squeezed in an extra late afternoon nap for him, and that made all the difference. He was a bit glazed by the end of the evening, but we had a blast.

Jen turned me on to Michelle back when we first met via her Captain Swing album, and she quickly occupied slots on my listening list with her strong songwriting and equally powerful voice. In recent years she has gone gospel but obliges (a bit grudgingly, it seemed) her longtime fans with some of her solo folky stuff. She was backed at the start and finish of her set by The Lee Boys, a pentecostally-raised family band that plays "Sacred Steel," which their website describes as "a unique form of Gospel music with a hard-driving, blues-based beat. The musical genre is rooted in Gospel, but infused with rhythm and blues, jazz, rock, funk, hip-hop, country and ideas from other nations." They had a funky, Robert Randolph-on-Jesus sound - talented and quite entertaining. The middle of Michelle's set was the only part with tunes I recognized, including Anchorage, The L&N Don't Stop Here Anymore, Memories of East Texas and Graffiti Limbo.

So not 100 percent of the Michelle Shocked I love the best, but getting to see her live (and up close, as is always possible for the dance floor in front of the Nightfall stage) is a nice notch on the musical belt. I loved her beat up Telecaster!
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Labels: music

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Ye gods! Mathman has turned down meme lane once more, and honks as he throws the paper through my window.

I've not seen this one before, though, and it's pretty cool. The rules:

1. Put your music player on Shuffle
2. For each question, press the Next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER WHAT (this is in capital letters, so it is very serious).

BEGIN

1. IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY” YOU SAY?
21st Century Schizoid Man - King Crimson

2. WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
Crosseyed And Painless – Talking Heads

3. WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
LaGrange - ZZ Top

4. HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Jammin’ – Bob Marley

5. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE?
Alabama Song (Whiskey Bar) - The Doors

6. WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
Feelin’ Alright – Traffic

7. WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
Conservative Christian, Right Wing Republican, Straight, White, American Males - Todd Snider

8. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS?
Achilles Last Stand - Led Zeppelin

9. WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
A Change Is Gonna Come - Sam Cooke

10. WHAT IS 2+2?
Give Back The Key To My Heart - Wilco

11. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
John Barleycorn Must Die - Traffic

12. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
I Second That Emotion - Jerry Garcia and Merl Saunders

13. WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
Laugh Laugh - The Beau Brummels

14. WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Home At Last – Steely Dan

15. WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Eyes Of The World - String Cheese Incident

16. WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
A Wolf At The Door – Radiohead

17. WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Let’s Work Together - Canned Heat

18. WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
I Need More Love – Robert Randolph & The Family Band

19. WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
That’s How AIDS Began - Todd Snider

20. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
After The Goldrush – Neil Young

21. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
Salt Of The Earth – Rolling Stones

22. WHAT SHOULD YOU POST THIS AS?
The Man Who Loved Life – The Jayhawks


I'm thoroughly amazed at how some fit in so perfect, while others might have fit better under a different question. I'm also amazed that no Dead showed up, but I did get the Jerry/Merle Motown cover and the String Cheese version of "Eyes."

I am cross-posting this at Where The Vibe Is and invite my fellow musical authors (nat, Joe, Cheezy and Jefe) to post up their results there and/or on their own blogs. Hmm, I’m thinking I need to see Miz UV’s results as well. And what the hell, because he needs to make up his mind about blogging (and because I want to see 22 songs from his player) Fez Monkey can get on it also.
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Labels: "I Likes", memes, music

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We couldn’t have asked for more at this past weekend’s Back Porch Hootenanny at Cherokee Farms. We had great weather, great music and great people. I can’t express my gratitude enough to T-Dawg (peace and blessings be upon his name) for doing what it took to get at least one rockin’ event up there this year.

The musical highlights were many – Delta Moon was as solid as ever, Ralph Roddenbery’s energy indicates that he must be getting younger with time, and the quasi-Vaudevillian Newgrass that is Snake Oil Medicine Show kept things bouncing ‘round the room until the wees. I was most impressed by Aussie bluesman Geoff Achison, who is gracing the south with his presence for a couple of years. He is a very energetic and innovative guitarist, and I would not be surprised to see more fame come his way.

The humongous bonfire was essential after the sun went down and the clear skies above vacuumed out the day’s warmth. There were lots of smiles, good cheer, drums, guitars, and more good cheer going around even after the official gigs ended. Our host did finally make an appearance. By the time I saw Smokey he was - how shall I say? – well-oiled, and not far from being escorted to bed by his equally lubricated lady friend. The thing about Smokey is that he was probably up at 6:00 chopping wood. It was great to see the usual suspects and the new happy faces alike. Fellow Georgia blog friends D-Cup and her hubby Mathman made an hour’s trek north to join the fun for a while. I look forward to another gathering where they can spend the night and get the "full effect."

We’ve made plans for some more camping this winter out at the Farms, but the music, as far as paid talent goes anyway, will have to wait until spring (right, T-Dawg?).

Some impressions:

Labels: family, friends, frolic, fun, HOOTenanny, music, wildlife

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I hate to say that in the middle of a drought, but there exists an even more extreme natural disaster if the need to go to the country and shake off the dust of Babylon is not met soon. Of course I realize that rain has its rinsing effect, but if it shows now it won't be happy summer dancing rain.

So come if you can, and definitely come as you are.
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Labels: HOOTenanny, music, wildlife

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Despite numerous offers (requests?) of free babysitting service, Jen and I haven't taken many opportunities to enjoy an evening diversion since our son was born in February. In fact our first night out without him came just last week when we headed out to see a locally produced play, and with the "chaos" that ensued in his mother's head from that, we decided it would be best to have him tag along tonight for an event that we'd considered attending for months.

Chattanooga has a great Friday night free concert series called Nightfall which runs from May through September. It takes place in a nice public square with fountains and multi-level brick wall/landscaped terraces. A stage is sunk down at the back of the square so the views can be decent if you get there early enough and the acoustics aren't half bad. Regardless of the act performing you can count on a steady crowd of a couple thousand, since the event blocks off the street for food and beer/wine sales. Yes, a good chunk of the folks come just to hang out.

Tonight was the final concert in the series and headlined one of the few names I recognized this season. I've had the pleasure of seeing several awesome acts at Nightfall, and now add tonight's performance by Howard Jones to the list.

Most anyone who knows me probably wouldn't think my musical tastes go toward the electronica and pop iconery that signifies the era of Jones' music, and for the most part they'd be right. I've mentioned before how I mostly took interest in such music during those college years of mine with a libidinous motive. But the classically-trained Jones is cream compared to the other crap, and besides that he came to the height of his prominence after that young man I was had gone west and was thusly expanding his horizons. So in the midst of catching nearly every Dead show in California between the autumns of 1985 and 1987, I had a cute little roommate (alas, with boyfriend) who was gaga over Howard Jones and with whom I had enough intriguing exchanges about music to respect and explore her tastes. She was one of the first people I knew who had a CD player, and she played the hell out of Jones' 1985 release Dream Into Action. Besides, when her friends came over to party at our shabby Victorian it wasn't like I was going to get any sleep - so let's dance!

Back to 2007: Jones is touring as an "acoustic duo," with just his keyboard and another fellow on guitar. I understand that he started the concept a couple of years back and was playing a grand piano, and though that would have been great to hear I can understand why he doesn't tour like that. He played some new stuff that I'm not familiar with, but of course obliged the bulk of those who came to listen and dance with his 80s strongholds New Song, Things Can Only Get Better, What Is Love? and my favorite (very Reggae-influenced) tune:


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Labels: music, my youth, the past

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There's been a bit of talk around Blogovia of late about protest songs (here fr'instance). Not being one to pass up the opportunity for some righteous indignation, here's one of my favorites from a quintessential American folk hero. About three minutes into this video John Prine explains his take on the current relevance of this decades-old classic. I saw him this same year (2004) and when he played it for us his comment was a bit less tongue-in-cheek. "I wish George Bush would quit making all these old anti-war songs of mine make sense again," Prine said.

There's no bouncing ball to follow but I've posted the lyrics below (courtesy of JPShrine.org) if'n yer in the mood fer a sing-along.



Your Flag Decal Won't Get You Into Heaven Anymore
© John Prine

While digesting Reader's Digest
In the back of a dirty book store
A plastic flag with gum on the back
Fell out on the floor
Well I picked it up and I ran outside
Slapped it on my window shield
And if I could see old Betsy Ross
I'd tell her how good I feel

Chorus:
But your flag decal won't get you
Into Heaven any more
They're already overcrowded
From your dirty little war
Now Jesus don't like killin'
No matter what the reason's for
And your flag decal won't get you
Into Heaven any more

Well I went to the bank this morning
And the cashier he said to me
"If you join the Christmas club
We'll give you ten of them flags for free"
Well I didn't mess around a bit
I took him up on what he said
And I stuck them stickers all over my car
And one on my wife's forehead

(Repeat Chorus)

Well I got my window shield so filled
With flags I couldn't see
So I ran the car upside a curb
And right into a tree
By the time they got a doctor down
I was already dead
And I'll never understand why the man
Standing in the Pearly Gates said...

"But your flag decal won't get you
Into Heaven any more
We're already overcrowded
From your dirty little war
Now Jesus don't like killin'
No matter what the reason's for
And your flag decal won't get you
Into Heaven any more."
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Labels: dead bodies, music, protest, religion, war

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No, not that far back. Miz D-Cup offered up a general music meme to her readers, and after mulling it over I've decided I'm game.

The thing:
1. Go to http://www.popculturemadness.com/Music/
2. Down the left column pick the year you turned 18
3. Get yourself nostalgic/enraged over the songs of the year
4. Write something about how the songs affected you
5. Pass it on to 5 more friends (And because I suck at picking five people, regular readers/commenters - You're IT! And you know who you are.)


I turned 18 in 1983. The prime of my dazed & confused years was laid out before me. Preparing for college 150 miles from home – damn right I’ll sign those loan papers, which was a decision that would haunt me well into the next decade. Like those who would proclaim freedom isn’t free, you have to ask the question, “Is what we’re doing worth the cost?” For the education I pursued and the good it did me, in my opinion the answer is the same.

But I digress, because I didn’t give a shit about things of that nature (things that weren't me) when I was 18. So the summer was complete and I was a couple weeks into my freshman year on my birthday. Musically I was seeking to stretch my legs and feel what others were into beyond the rather cramped diet of my high school chums. I didn’t have any close friends nor many acquaintances who shared my fancy for British art rock and the deeper cuts of the Beatles, Stones and Hendrix. The going thing then was either hair metal or unmitigated cheese.

So while I may not have sucked the marrow of life from college, my life at college provided me with awakenings that served up several of my passions still in force. My toddling about in the realm of jazz fusion hit its adolescence with the music major people I hung with. My reluctant foray into pop music came by way of something I had put off in high school – the need to get laid. Yes, a relative late bloomer was I, but oh how pretty and prolific were those petunias when the spring did um, arrive. So the parties, at least the ones with the horny women, required listening to stuff I had not explored, and ohmigod, DANCING.

As it turns out this freshmen discovered nothing new - that dancing in concert with sundry libations make a fine prelude for the romantic vibrations. One of the worst songs of all time, Phil Collins’ Against All Odds, happened to be pretty much the secret password for “Take me upstairs." Irony aside, I think it may have been because fucking is incomparably superior to listening to Phil Collins. And while I still cannot happily listen to much of what the hot sorority bitches loved like Wham! or Culture Club, there was some dance and particularly new wave stuff that has either stuck with me or been rekindled by nostalgia to become favorites for today. Songs like the Modern English now-mega-retro hit I Melt With You, or Love My Way by Psychedelic Furs now have a distinct appeal.

It seems as if there were other things to pursue besides females given to expedited sexual surrender, but as far as my experience with the pop music of the day was concerned, that was the sole reason for enduring most of it. Here’s a rundown of the pop hits of 1983 that caught my eye:

Music by some of my favorite groups that I was glad to see on the charts

Shock The Monkey - Peter Gabriel
New Year's Day - U2
Burning Down The House - Talking Heads
Stray Cat Strut - Stray Cats
Radio Free Europe - R.E.M.


Music of some of my favorite groups that I was glad to see on the charts even if the song was shitty

Rock The Casbah - The Clash
Bang The Drum All Day - Todd Rundgren
Let's Dance - David Bowie


Music that I didn’t really like/pay attention to that gets listening time now.

Down Under - Men At Work
One Thing Leads To Another - the Fixx


Music that’s hard to get out of my head

Every Breath You Take - Police
Rockit - Herbie Hancock
She Works Hard For The Money - Donna Summer
She Blinded Me With Science - Thomas Dolby
Electric Avenue - Eddie Grant


Music that made me realize ZZ Top had totally sold out

Sharp Dressed Man - ZZ Top

And what retrospective would be complete without Deaths and Events?

1983 DEATHS:

Karen Carpenter, Tennessee Williams, Gloria Swanson, Chris Wood (flutist from Traffic), David Niven, George S. “Papa Bear” Halas, Slim Pickens, Dennis Wilson

1983 EVENTS:

• Lotus 1-2-3 is released for IBM-PC compatible computers

• Iran opens an invasion in the southeast of Iraq

• M*A*S*H ends after 11 years and 251 episodes

• Return of the Jedi

• McDonald's introduces the McNugget

Labels: me, music, Nothing about Yoko

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On the heels of cash cows like Walk The Line and Ray, Hollywood is ramping up to cover the 1960s to the 1980s with a feverish release of popular music biopics. To celebrate, try and match the icon with the actor who is slated to portray them. There are a few extra of each thrown in to make things fun. Post your guesses in comments here - answers are stashed in this backdated post. Good luck and NO PEEKING!

THE MUSICIANS

Jimi Hendrix
James Brown
Bob Dylan
Janis Joplin
Keith Moon
Miles Davis
Freddie Mercury
Ian Curtis (of Joy Division)
Debbie Harry

THE ACTORS

Johnny Depp
Sacha Baron Cohen
Wesley Snipes
Cate Blanchett
Lenny Kravitz
Mike Meyers
Zooey Deschanel
Don Cheadle

Labels: fun, music, pop culture

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On the surface one might presume that my musical tastes run screaming from anything resembling “rage.” In general I like to listen to and play mellow acoustic guitar stuff –Grateful Dead, Neil Young, Van Morrison, John Prine. But, thanks to The Fez Monkey (via the loverly Lucy) I’m the tagee/victim of a call for 20 songs that I’d put up for play on rage webradio, and it’s made me think – yeah, there’s some rage in my collection. So here’s my 20 - there’s a bit of the punk mixed in, but other than a small folder of MP3s on my computer, when I’m in the mood for punk I just grab the Repo Man soundtrack (not a bad song on that puppy). Regarding rage, rage can piss off if they think my 20 will be something they’d wanna play.


The Clash – The Guns of Brixton. The great thing about The Clash is that they were musicians, a rare thing in the punk world. The bad thing is that Fez hogged three of their songs for his list, which I’m not gonna do here.

Lemonheads – Stove. From their obscure early album Lovey, on which there is hardly a bad tune. Technically, the rage song on this album would be “Ballarat.”

Black Flag – TV Party

Dead Kennedys – Kill The Poor. Run, Jello, run.

Matthew Sweet – Knowing People. A great hard-driving rock song with some of the most in-your-face lyrics I’ve heard - the kind that make you say, “Gee, I’m glad I’m not THAT guy.”

Sex Pistols – My Way. Who better to cover this Sinatra classic?

Fear – Let’s Have A War. Hey, we need the space.

Blues Traveller – Whoops.
“But the possibility exists no matter how scary it may seem
That paradise was once the world and it wasn't just a dream
The earth was our heaven and we didn't know there were rules for us to break
And maybe now we'll find out too late what a clever hell we can make.”

Suicidal Tendencies – Institutionalized

Butthole Surfers – Pepper. This is just one of the coolest fucking songs ever.

Black Grape - In The Name Of The Father. Shaun Ryder’s a thug. And he can write some catchy shit. Alternate – “Shake Your Money Maker.”

The Charlatans UK - Can't Get Out of Bed. Another Madchester fave of mine.

The Plugz - Hombre Secreto. A classic.

The Clash – Police & Thieves. Hey, I said I wasn’t gonna do three, OK? This song utilizes the band’s talent for a dark, funky Caribbean beat.

Elvis Costello – Radio, Radio. I’m with Fez on EC, he’s punk at heart.

The Who – Young Man Blues. Another hat tip to Fez for picking Tha’Ooh. Of course this is a Mose Alison original, but in playing it live the group turned it inside out and made it their own song. One of classic rock’s greatest jams IMHO.

The Pixies – Where Is My Mind? The perfect song for the Fight Club soundtrack.

Violent Femmes – Add It Up. I’ve been a fan of these fellow midwesterners since seeing them in college decades ago. Their simplicity of a guitar, stand-up bass and a snare drum mixed with deep lyrics and high energy made them a singularly fresh resurrection of a nearly comatose punk scene in the mid-80s. They also proved that their honky-tonk/gospel tinge wasn’t just schtick.

Pearl Jam - Alive

Rolling Stones – Can’t You Hear Me Knockin’? - Because it’s the most kick-ass Stones song ever. No, you’re wrong, it’s Can’t You Hear Me Knockin’?

Labels: music

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Even though autumn is my very favorite season and I can't for the life of me figure out the attraction of boiled peanuts, it's a damn fine time to be alive down h'ayhr.

In Georgia nights are softer than a whisper
Beneath a quilt somebody's mother made by hand
With the farmland like a tapestry passed down through generations
And the peach trees stitched across the land

There'll be cider up near Helen off the roadside
And boiled peanuts in a bag to warm your fingers
And the smoke from the chimneys meets its maker in the sky
With a song that winter wrote whose melody lingers

And there's something 'bout the southland in the springtime
Where the waters flow with confidence and reason
Though I miss her when I'm gone
It won't ever be too long
Till I'm home again to spend my favorite season
When God made me born a Yankee he was teasin'
There's no place like home and none more pleasin'
Than the southland in the springtime

Labels: music, seasons, The South

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Last night I had the privilege of judging a singer-songwriter contest for what is to be a series of open-mike performance nights at the local music café. I was one of three judges for the event. We were anonymous and seated throughout the place, though most casual observers surely noticed three people marking things down on paper.

The day prior to the event the café owner asked me to devise a scoring system that would put greater weight on the songwriting originality, the obvious reason being that many good songwriters have no business considering themselves singers, and also that musical talent could be expected to vary widely. In a bit of a rush I came up with an overly-complicated system of scoring four categories on a scale of one to five: originality, performance (weighted at 30 percent each), audience reaction and the “X” factor (weighted at 20 percent each). The latter was an attempt to let each judge score on the intangibles of their choice – that “je ne sais quoi” – anything from how it hit them in the soul or hurt their ears to how cool or dorky they might think the contestant is. Each category score was multiplied by its weight factor and then those four numbers were subtotaled and divided by five to get a perfectly weighted score on a 100 scale. It worked out okay despite the fact that we took about 15 minutes to tally up the results. I admitted my knotty system was in need of straightening, and brought laughs during the tally when I pensively asked, “Now let’s see, does anyone know if the moon is waxing or waning?” For next time we’ll probably drop the audience category, as it was hard to tell a big difference in reaction in a small room of about 80 patrons clapping politely for each act. What I think would be simplest to do with the three remaining categories is just weight them equally, and the winner is the one with the most points on whatever scale is determined. If any of my readers has done this sort of thing before, I would welcome your suggestions for a system of simplicity and fairness.

It was apparent after the scoring was complete that we three judges had starkly contrasting viewpoints on what constitutes talent. One of the other judges was my former guitar teacher, who is an excellent player. He tended to be more discriminating in the technical prowess of the performers, and so his scores for performance varied the most. I didn’t see any great differences, and in fact rated most performers down the middle because to me they didn’t really display the kind of playing that sets talent apart. I was keeping with the owner’s suggestion to consider originality above all, and that is where I differed most from my fellow referees. Each act was allowed to perform two of their original songs, and it was cool to see the different styles. Most of the country and blues performers seemed pretty straightforward - country being typical in its strict chronology and free of abstraction, and blues being similar to the latter attribute as well. I like both kinds of music, but I think it’s hard to be particularly original in either genre. The other judge was one of the videographers of the event, a pleasant middle-aged woman who shared little with me in the way of personal taste in music. My highest scorers were her lowest and vice-versa.

She really liked the country acts, some of which I considered good efforts but a lot like anything else already out there. Now when I say I like country I don’t mean any of the latter-day Nashville pop. For me it’s gotta be the old stalwarts like Johnny Cash, Buck Owens and Willie Nelson; the purveyors of hippie country like Neil Young, Gram Parsons, Lyle Lovett and John Prine, or alt-country, neo-folk and newgrass bands like Wilco, The Jayhawks, String Cheese Incident, The Be Good Tanyas, Donna The Buffalo...somebody stop me...The Duhks, Tim O’Brien, Alison Krauss, Jerry Douglas, okay?

From among eleven performers the winner, who earned a modest cash prize, ended up being an older blind gentleman who I had been sitting next to and enjoying conversation (I would have felt a bit more uncomfortable filling out my score sheet near any other contestant). His performance was very good – he tied for third on my scoring. He played a couple of simple cowboy songs, the kind with the alternating bass strum and three or four chords, which had very evocative lyrics for which I gave him high marks on originality. Of my two favorites of the night, one was a pretty young girl who was a bit overweight and self-conscious but who had a beautiful voice and two good songs that showcased her pipes well. The other was a young guy with a humble demeanor who sang two songs excellent in their originality, but as they were on the funereal side he wasn’t a big hit with the audience or the other two judges.

Between now and June each month’s winner will be eligible for the owner to choose as the opening act for one of the bigger name professionals that headline at the café later this year. It was a fun event and I look forward to next month’s competition.
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Labels: music

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While Archer struggles to remember the events of 1967 (and is possibly going off the deep end in the process), he also has me considering if we are living in the modern-day equivalent of that year. Among the many useless comparisons we could make is whether 2007 is up to snuff with 1967 in the realm of popular music. Such a comparison begs a question, also inspired by Mr. Archer's post, regarding which current group is seeking to top their Sgt. Pepper's-like masterwork with a follow up even half as good as Magical Mystery Tour (even if it was overly spiced by rather twee McCartney efforts and thus signaled the Beatles on their downslope).

What else did we have going on when I was two? Mind you, I have the musical tastes of people 15 years my senior, and in order to make this completely one-sided, I'm only going to offer my thoughts on MCMLXVII:

Jimi Hendrix gave us a double whammy with Are You Experienced? and Axis:Bold As Love (one of my absolute favorite rock albums).

Aretha Franklin hits her stride with her first Atlantic Records release, which included her best- known recording, Respect, and a respectful and powerful rendering of Sam Cooke's A Change Is Gonna Come (my favorite among Cooke's work). Digression: Aretha made good use of the famous Muscle Shoals rhythm section and backup singers, the latter which included a 19-year-old named Donna Jean Thatcher, who in three years would marry keyboardist Keith Godchaux and go on to join up with the Grateful Dead for about eight years (I had to give Donna her props).

The Doors put out their debut album as well as No. 2, Strange Days.

Traffic (a band that I could tell you more than you'd ever want to hear about over a couple of beers) debuts with their most excellent Mr. Fantasy.

Buffalo Springfield Again, that group's second album, is released.

Not to be outdone, The Byrds craft Younger Than Yesterday, one of their best.

Jefferson Airplane records Surrealistic Pillow, its first album with singer Grace Slick. It's not only one of JA's best, it's right up there with Sgt. Pepper's. Oh, this year they also put out the loosely-produced After Bathing At Baxter's, considered weird even in that weird time, but where Paul Kantner's songwriting really begins taking the band to its psychedelic zenith.

Cream makes a gallant effort to out-duke Hendrix with their fine Disraeli Gears. They go the full 15 but alas, the judges of rock history give the decision to Jimi.

Pete Townshend steers his group into its first concept album (sort of) The Who Sell Out. I've yet to acquire the re-release that has the full complement of the funny and phony commercials with which they interspersed the songs. The album cover has some silly visual swipes at the corporate world as well (e.g. Roger Daltrey bathing in a tub of Heinz Baked Beans).

The Rolling Stones, suffering through the latter daze of Brian Jones, cranked out three albums of no particular note (Between The Buttons, Flowers, Their Satanic Majesties Request) but which produced great songs like Ruby Tuesday, Out Of Time and 200 Light Years From Home.

The Mothers Of Invention released their second album, Absolutely Free, which includes several of my Zappa faves: Plastic People, Duke Of Prunes, Call Any Vegetable and Son Of Suzy Creamcheese.

Simon & Garfunkel record Parsley, Sage, Rosemary And Thyme.

And so the answer to, "Is 2007 the new 1967?" is that there ain't ever gonna be another 1967, Jack.

What did I miss?
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Labels: Damn I'm OLD, music

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Godspeed, James Brown, aka The Hardest Working Man In Showbiz, aka The Godfather Of Soul, aka Soul Brother Number One, aka Mr. Dynamite...

My earliest memory of James Brown comes from my days in elementary school. By the early 1970s schools in Evanston, IL were pretty well integrated without much fuss (at least as far as I could see). In second grade, a black friend invited me and another white kid to his birthday party. We were the only honkies at this gig, and we were petrified little wallflowers, that is until our brothers of another color would have no more of it. We were cajoled out to the dance floor, and it's the first time I can remember just letting loose of inhibition and becoming euphoric in movement. Hell, I probably picked up a few moves that served me well in my later Deadhead years (not that rhythm mattered at those functions). The strains of JB's, "Awww, Hyit ME!!" would be parked down on the basement level of my soul for a long time.

In the years after that party I followed the typical flow of musical tastes among white suburban teenagers. It wasn't until well into adulthood that I rediscovered my tiny roots of funk and began cultivating an avid appreciation of James Brown. Sometime in the early 1990s I would gain copies of "20 All-Time Greatest Hits" and "Live At The Apollo" (1963 incarnation), and baby, it was a new breed of pure dynamite!

Oh, I almost forgot another one of JB's AKAs - Reverend Cleophus James

In a scene from one of my favorite films, The Blues Brothers, the Rev. James shouts out in his inimitable way (several times):

"HAVE YOU SEEEEEEN THE LIGHT?!!"

To which Jake Blues (John Belushi), at the apogee of a musical epiphany, shouts:

"YES! YES! JESUS H. TAP-DANCING CHRIST... I HAVE SEEN THE LIGHT!"

One paragraph in particular stood out in the Associated Press report of his death:

"He often talked of the 1964 concert in which organizers made the mistake of having the Rolling Stones, not him, close the bill. He would remember a terrified Mick Jagger waiting offstage, chain smoking, as Brown pulled off his matchless show."

The above scenario with Jagger can actually be seen in the the '60s concert film, "The TAMI & TNT Shows" (TAMI was Teen-Age Music International - a foundation devoted to providing music scholarships to teens).

In a special appreciation for the Los Angeles Times, Robert Hilburn, the Times' pop music critic for nearly 40 years, sums it up best:

"Long before he was showered with more celebrated (and fitting) titles... Brown was briefly thought of by some as the black Elvis, which was mostly silly - except in one profound way. If Presley was the artist most often cited by leading white musicians as an influence - and I found that to be true in the '60s and 70s, Brown was the name I most often heard when asking black musicians about who inspired them."

Read the rest of Hilburn's tribute.

I can't let an appreciation of JB slip by without a passing mention of the fact that the man had his demons:

Enough said? Well, perhaps I should also mention that, in my humble opinion, not everything musical that the man touched turned to gold. Indeed, he often skirted and dipped a toe across the line into some pretty cheezy shit (case in point - his performance of "Living in America" in Rocky II). But hey, he was sincere.










Go in PEACE, James baby - I hope in your show of tomorrow you stay on the good foot.
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Labels: Awww Hyit ME, funk, music, my youth, soul

While I'm on he subject of anniversaries, today marks an inauspicious one, that of the murder of John Lennon. In today's HuffPo RJ Eskow reminded me of just why I miss my favorite ex-Beatle so much. Eskow, having lived in New York and having actually seen the Beatles, gives a full 26 reasons why he does - one for each year since Lennon was gunned down in yet another senseless assassination in modern America. Here are some I can relate to:

That screaming wail that opens "Mr. Moonlight"

The way his primal album anticipated punk music

Not being afraid to appear ridiculous in pursuit of a good cause

Always being willing to care too much, rather than too little

Embodying the very opposite of "ironic detachment," which has been the definition of what it means to be "hip" for far too long

Being publicly insecure ("I'm a good guitar player," he said in an interview. "I know I'm not technically that great, but Clapton says I'm good")

Writing simple sounding but deceptively complicated melodies

The fact that "Sexy Sadie" was originally called "Maharishi" (explains a lot, doesn't it?)

Using Asian scales in songs like "Oh My Love"

Writing a song about karma - and then having Phil Spector produce it

Having the greatest voice in rock and roll

That 3/4-size Rickenbacker (if anybody wants to buy me one, I'll send you my address)

That single-cutaway Les Paul Junior (see #18, above)

His dedication to honesty

Being prepared to go to Memphis and march with the laundry and restaurant workers who were out on strike (as he was reportedly about to do at the time of his death)

The last line in "Working Class Hero," which was something of a "Twilight Zone" ending: "If you want to be a hero, then just follow me" ...

Embracing each new passion without hesitation, even if it contradicted the one that preceded it. "The way to know God," said Van Gogh, "is to love many things." (sorry, John!)

Eskow caps off his post with a great anecdote about seeing Lennon at Max's Kansas City.

Thanks RJ, even though it wasn't enough for me.

(check out RJ Eskow's blog A Night Light)
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Labels: arts, guitar, Maharishi, music, Nothing about Yoko, remembrance

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Lately it occurs to me (ironically as I watch an episode of "The Drug Years" on VH1) that 25 years ago this evening I attended my first Grateful Dead show. What a long, strange trip indeed.


The Dead in their early 1980s incarnation (wake up Phil!)


All the years combine - they melt into a dream
A broken angel sings from a guitar
In the end there's just a song - comes cryin' up the night
Through all the broken dreams and vanished years
Stella Blue
Stella Blue

When all the cards are down, there's nothing left to see
There's just the pavement left and broken dreams
In the end there's still that song - comes cryin' like the wind
Down every lonely street that's ever been
Stella Blue
Stella Blue

I've stayed in every blue-light cheap hotel
Can't win for trying
Dust off those rusty strings just one more time
Gonna make them shine
Shine

It all rolls into one and nothing comes for free
There's nothing you can hold for very long
And when you hear that song come crying like the wind
It seems like all this life was just a dream
Stella Blue
Stella Blue

(Who says rock n' roll ain't poetry?)
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Labels: Damn I'm OLD, GD, guitar, music

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EG Kight at Music on the Square in LaFayette, Georgia
Saturday, November 11, 2006

Although it’s not possible to have a performance at this small café that is not intimate, EG Kight, an irrepressible and inspired woman of the blues, seems particularly adept to bringing warmth to her act with an audience at arm’s length. “I love little places like this,” she told me after the show. “I can be up close with the people.”

She exemplified that at her performance this night, as there didn't seem to be any strangers in the place. She called the older women “mama” and the young men (and me) “sugar.” She requested a pair of shades to wear for her gritty blues numbers, and when fans called out requests she obliged them often. At one point she put forth the claim that “you can write a song about anything,” and proceeded to prove it by requesting a topic from the audience and quickly putting together a few bars about it (it was either toothpaste or no-good men, I can’t clearly recall). In short, up on the stage EG Kight is comfortable, and marvelous.

EG hails from Dublin, Georgia, which is down “below the gnat line,” a reference to the prevalence of tiny bugs whose purpose in their short lifespan seems to be flying kamikaze into your eyeballs. South Georgians often tell tales of small animals being carried away by gnats, but I digress. She grew up on a farm and still lives on land once owned by her great granddaddy. She is low country to the bone, but her musical talent has also made her a woman of the world. She recently returned from a film festival in Torino, Italy, where between films she performed and lectured a bit. She said that American blues music is very popular over there, and music students just eat up the likes of Bessie Smith and Ella Fitzgerald. “Of course music is the universal language,” she said, “and no more so than with the blues - they love how you can hear it and feel it all in one.” To celebrate her experience she sang the old Dean Martin standard “Return To Me”, complete with a few verses in Italian.

Like many little girls in the south who grew up in musical families, EG cut her teeth on gospel, first performing in church at the age of four. She grew up into her teens performing country music, but relates how she had a “blues epiphany” of sorts when she first heard Koko Taylor. From that point in the mid-1990s her career shifted into having “blues as the backbone,” and has come into her own with a versatile voice that can range from a mournful yet sweet torch song melody to belting out blues gravel. She backs that up on her guitar with confident hands and a joyful demeanor as she moves them.

She performed two solo acoustic sets, nearly 30 songs in all, with a varied set list that included standards like “Stardust”, “Stormy Weather”, and “At Last” to blues classics like Koko Taylor’s “I Cried Like A Baby”, “Stormy Monday”, and “Mama He Treats Your Daughter Mean”. EG’s cover of the latter, a hit for R & B songstress Ruth Brown in the early sixties, was recorded live in August 2005 for her most recent album, the solo acoustic “EG Kight (live &) Naked”. The song held the No. 1 spot on XM Radio’s blues channel for several weeks. She also threw in a good bit of country, with a sweet rendering of Merle Haggard’s “Silver Wings”, and laid down Johnny Cash’s “Folsom Prison Blues” with grit so true it was not necessary to suspend disbelief of it being sung by a woman. Another cover tune that was one of the highlights of the night for me was her sweet and soulful rendition of John Prine's “Angel From Montgomery”, a tune that, as was the case here, often moistens the edges of my eyes.

As a performer EG Kight also plays electric guitar with her band, and she has shared the stage with the likes of such a diverse bunch of musicians as George Jones, Taj Mahal, Delbert McClinton, Jerry Lee Lewis, Merle Haggard and Little Feat. As a songwriter she has built up a repertoire of several albums and honors to go with them. Highlights of her songs from the show at Music on the Square, which was professionally video recorded, included “attitude” songs like “Trouble With A Capital ‘T’”, an up beat blues shuffle with plenty of down and dirty gravel in her voice, and “Is It Me Or Is It Hot In Here?”
My favorite of her slow blues tunes was “Southern Comfort”, the title song from her 2003 release on Blue South Records, in which she tells her man that he don’t need no bottle, ‘cuz she’s like Southern Comfort for him. That's true for the ears of her audience as well.

If you’re interested in checking out some audio samples from EG's albums such as “Peach Pickin' Mama”, “Unlove You” and “Let The Blues Move You”, poke around her website a bit at www.egkight.com

EG Kight performs at Music on the Square in LaFayette, Georgia. If you think her glasses are cool, you shoulda seen her boots! Look closely behind her and you might recognize some of the faces on the mural (in progress). And check out
Music on the Square
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Labels: "I Likes", music