Nice to see the Queens 2013 album in all the top 2013 top album lists, because it really deserved it. Maybe one day I’ll write the review I’ve planned to write since the summer. Saw in the Rolling Stone it finished just above stinky Lorde. Good that.
My friend Dorothy shared this with me a few months ago. It comes from an EP put out by a band her son is in. I listened to it a lot at the time, and then didn’t, but I was reminded of it today when making my way through the Pitchfork top songs of 2013 list. I didn’t play all 100, but in my samplings I kept thinking about The Shiver. This isn’t my genre, particularly, but I like this song (and the rest of them on the EP) more than what I was hearing on the Pitchfork list.
Obviously this is my problem. The world has moved on. On the other hand, so have I. We’re both happier that way.
Propulsive rhythm, dynamic changes, singing that declares, and a melody. Maybe not so stylish, but I hear a solid elemental hard rock band pushing things forward. Good luck, Metameric.
A heartwarming story I read about at Dangerous Minds. Read and see it here. 
Plus video of the festivities and a catchy little ditty called a Punk Rock Christmas.
I have to admit that for the most part Christmas music does very little for me.
A lot of that is probably rooted in my Semitic upbringing.
Not that Little Saint Nick, or especially Father Christmas (which Peter gave a nod too earlier) are not great tunes. Hell, even though I am not even close to being an Adam Sandler fan, I do love his Hanukah song.
However, the other day the ever unpredictable KTKE played a pretty cool tune by the Dropkick Murphys that I liked a lot.
Meaning this is likely to be my only contribution to this genre (but you never know).
Dirty Projectors is a band led by a guitarist/composer named David Longstreth. Ezra Koenig, the lead singer from Vampire Weekend, has played saxophone for the Dirty Projectors.
Longstreth’s band was known for it’s artiness, but in 2009 it released an album called Bitte Orca, which used African-style guitar lines and the harmonized vocals of three young women to create a pretty wonderful and warm art-pop sound. This album was in heavy rotation at my house, and listening again I’m struck by how different the Dirty Projectors used somewhat similar sounds as Vampire Weekend, to strikingly (to my ear) more interesting and agreeable effect.
Diane just advised me that the wonderful British actor, Peter O’Toole has passed away.
I get this is a rock’n’roll site–or at least largely a music site–but often music and film are inexorably linked.
Although, I must admit, not so much in O’Toole’s case.
It is more of a case that his face is as iconic as the roles he played.
Among those films of his I love:
Lawrence of Arabia (1962): O’Toole’s mesmerizing film debut (also Omar Sharif’s) was in arguably one of the greatest cinematic achievements ever. I think the first half of this film is as fine a piece of film making–as in script, photography, acting, and music–as has ever been assembled.
The Lion in Winter (1968): Incomparable historical piece with O’Toole as Henry II to Katherine Hepburn’s Elanor of Aquitaine, with a witty and intelligent a script that allow the brilliance of the actors to shine (this time Anthony Hopkins made his film debut).
The Ruling Class (1972): As dark as dark and funny can get, O’Toole plays the mad 14th Earl of Gurney. O’Toole thinks he is Jesus (he has a big wooden cross on which he roosts from time-to-time) although he likes to be referred to as either “Bert” or “JC,” though his given name is Jack. The catch is his relatives want to seize the assets that are Bert’s, but in order to do that, he has to be declared insane and a threat. So, they marry him off to his uncle’s mistress so they can have a child/heir, and thus simplify the insanity process. Of course nothing goes according to plot, but ultimately Jack is forced to jettison his loving and happy-go-lucky Jesus alter ego, and assumes that of another Jack, as in The Ripper.
The Stunt Man (1980): O’Toole as an autocratic film director who pushes a walk on stunt man (Steve Railsback), who is on the run from the law, into going further and further on a limb with the stunts. O’Toole is great at this–roles on the verge of losing it–and this film is no exception. Also filmed around the lovely Hotel Del Coronado, in San Diego, where Some Like it Hot was also largely set.
My Favorite Year (1982): A lovely sentimental comedy about TV in the 50’s, ostensibly based upon Mel Brooks’ early days writing for Sid Caesar and his Show of Shows. O’Toole plays Allan Swann, an Errol Flynn-like swashbuckling star of the 30’s who can still give women wobbly knees. He accepts a role on a TV show in order to earn some extra moolah and even himself out with the IRS. This movie, directed by comedian Richard Benjamin, is as sweet as they come.
Amazingly, O’Toole was nominated for the Oscar for all five of the above (I did not realize that when I picked them as my faves as I was thinking about it) and had a total of eight nominations (also Becket, Goodbye Mr. Chips, and Venus), but never actually won for those films. Rather, he did get a lifetime achievement award from the Academy in 2003.
I’m gonna see you on a Saturday night.
The third Vampire Weekend album came out a couple of months ago. I gave it a listen back then and found confirmation of my previous thoughts about the group.
I listened to the first album a lot. The synthesis of African guitar sounds and punchy rhythms was appealing, especially coupled with clever often funny vocals. It was kind of like the first Talking Heads album’s lyrics coupled with Fear of Music’s music, at least it seemed at first. But the more I listened the thinner it became. Clever wears out, and the jangly sounds started to feel flat. They didn’t swing, they just chirped, a quality exacerbated by a lead vocalist with a razor sharp inflection and little warmth. I didn’t mind if I heard one of those songs on the radio, but I never put on the record after a while.
The second album seemed like more of the same, and I never really gave it a shot.
The third album was different, at least on the surface. The music and rhythms were more varied, the arrangements were more ambitious and grander. But I played it just once and didn’t go back to it, despite the good reviews, because I was still bothered by the vocalist. Too many smarts, too little heart, I thought. The music was making grand gestures to rock history, to the popular canon, but the words sounded too brittle and perfect, too much part of the guy’s head, too little a part of any place farther down.
At the same time, this seemed to be a year with little guitar rock, and so when the best records of the year lists started showing up and Modern Vampires of the City seemed to be on every one, I thought it might be good to give it one more try. I haven’t gotten through all of it, but my first impression is mostly intact. Still, there is a little more here than I was giving it credit for.
I like the drums and the keyboards in this song, and the words aren’t always irritating. It’s a good tune, strong musically, kind of sing-songy and neither dumb nor overthought (mostly). I still hate his voice. He sounds like a liar to me. I guess that’s not going to change.
IGNORED OBSCURED RESTORED
We’re in a golden age for music lovers.
As a long time record collector, I can remember having a very long “want list” of records I knew to exist, but had never seen – never mind heard!
But technology caused things to change very quickly. First there was the CD boom of the 90s that made it economically viable for record labels to reissue long lost cult favorites. Soon you could by CDs by obscure groups, classic albums with bonus cuts and boxed sets with tons of previously unreleased cuts and alternate takes.
Next came peer to peer file sharing and blog sites that posted full albums “in the cloud” for download. The treasure trove of bootlegs available on the internet is incomprehensible. And now we have YouTube, Spotify, Pandora and other streaming services that put the entire history of recorded music at our fingertips – mostly for free!
There’s hardly any artist’s repertoire that can’t be found with a little persistence. The SotW would be impossible – or at least a whole lot less interesting – if it weren’t for these advancements.
So then, what does all of this have to do with today’s SotW? Well, today I’m featuring a song by Rising Sons.
Rising Sons was a band formed in LA in the mid-60s. The band included Taj Mahal and a very young Ry Cooder (only 16 when the band was founded) in addition to Gary Marker, Jesse Lee Kincaid and Kevin Kelley. (Kelley replaced original drummer Ed Cassidy who went on to later fame with Spirit.)
The band played gigs all around LA and attracted kudos from a who’s who of record business stars. This led them to a signing by Columbia Records who quickly sent them into the studio to record. They laid down about 20 tracks of American roots music (blues, folk and country) and several originals penned by Kincaid. Columbia was unhappy with the results and never released the album. The band broke up in 1966 and the tapes languished in the Columbia vaults until 1992 when the album was finally released during the aforementioned CD boom.
Have a listen to their take on Charley Patton’s “Poor Me” retitled by Rising Sons as “By And By (Poor Me).”
This isn’t the most rockin’ cut on the album, but to my ear it’s the one that shines the brightest light on the early work of Mahal and Cooder. It has some very tasteful guitar interplay and a nice country-blues vocal by Mahal.
Thank goodness that this record was finally released so we can all hear and enjoy these early recordings.
Enjoy… until next week.
The first Rolling Stones album I ever owned was Between the Buttons, and it’s a fantastic and often forgotten disc, full of fantastic songs. The Stones were feeling somewhat arty at this time, Brian was still alive, but what stands out today is how deftly the Stones appropriated all the artsy crap everyone else was throwing off and made it their own.
My Uncle Henry, my father’s brother, died last week and I went to the memorial today, and was very glad to see my cousins for the first time in ages. I was also reminded of my uncle’s gentle personality. What I remember best is his funny smirk. He was funny without saying anything. But when he said something he was funny, too.
I was also reminded that my aunt and uncle brought me Between the Buttons for my 12th or 13th birthday, and at that moment I was pretty sure they had no idea how much that meant to me. All of a sudden I had the Stones in my house, and it was good.
I didn’t talk about this today, since it seemed more about me than he. I did delight in talking to my cousins. And my aunt. About other stuff.
And thanks for this:
Love, Peter
