Steve’s Sonics posting brought back the other, not very good Wailers, who I guess were known as “The Fabulous Wailers” because I guess we were supposed to think they were terrific musicians or something.
Aside from the fact that these guys could not hold a candle to Marley et al (I doubt they could execute a decent cover of a Marley tune, either), neither of the bands hit’s–Tall Cool One and It’s You Alone–have stood much of a test of time, although I did not realize just how awful both songs were till Steve’s post tripped the wires and I went in search of YouTube.
To prove the point, here are the Wailers a few years back “performing” It’s You Alone and it only makes me think of one thing.
And, that thing is when I started gigging regularly in bands, I made my friends and loved ones promise me that if I ever looked or acted like any of these guys in these Wailers, to either shoot me in the head, or tell me to stop: whichever came first.
What’s with the barefoot sax player, and how about the guy standing stage right? Yeah, standing. Value added. And the “featured guy” makes Bill Murray’s lounge singer act really seem seriously good, and not just funny ironic.
I did not get to see The Upper Crust last night, but my life-long mate Stephen Clayton and I did venture across the bay to San Rafael, to Terrapin Crossroads (Phil Lesh’s place) to see Frisell and his band touring behind the guitar player’s latest disc, Guitar in the Space Age. (Note that I have wanted to see the guitarist for years.)
True, it ain’t rock, but, that does not mean the music doesn’t rock. These guys–for this video is the same band Stephen and I saw–were arguably the most talented collection of musicians I have ever seen playing live with one another. The interplay and musicianship and notes chosen by the collective was breathtaking (watch this and you will see what I mean).
But, in deference to my previous Edge v. Tekulve post, I have started thinking of guitarists in terms of ballplayers, and this time, I could only think of the great Cub and Brave, Greg Maddux as a parallel.
Both can clearly paint the corners, and are artists with a true craft within their respective profession. And, they don’t really look alike, but do sort of have the same look in their eye in the above pics, huh?
Stylish, smart, never overtly overpowering, yet always dominant, Maddux could make the perfect pitch just as Frisell squeezes out the perfect note. Both Hall of Famers!
As I walked into BileTones (I guess that is the correct spelling) practice the other day, my mate Tom Nelson handed me a pamphlet that had a pic of Phillies hurler Rick Wise on the cover.
Tom told me he got the little handout–the title of which is Balk–at a Twins game at Metropolitan Stadium back in 2009. The whole little brainchild of Balk was by David Selsky, who along with former Pirates closer Kent Tekulve concocted an hysterically funny collection of baseball cards of bespectacled players.
The names and pics are priceless: Gary Gross, Rick Reuschel, Lee Walls, Carl Sawatski, Chris Knapp, and Craig Kusick (just looking at his beak on a card makes me wonder how he wound up a hitter and not a plumber?).
However, the whole thing made me think of submariner Tekulve, and for some reason I contextualized his skill set with that of the Edge, the guitar player from U2 who I like and who Steve does not.
Let me say this to start: I have never had a friend quite like Steve. For some reason, about half the things we believe in and process could not be more simpatico; however, the remaining 50% could not be more diametrically opposed. Very strange.
Back to the philosophy, Tekulve was not a hard thrower. In fact, to the contrary, he threw underhand and lived on sinkers, location, and delivery deception to build a pretty successful career with a 98-90 record, 2.80 ERA, and 184 saves. But for sure, he did not overpower hitters a la Goose Gossage or Eric Gagne or Aroldis Chapman.
But, he got the job done, satisfactorily, and were he pitching today, Tekulve would be a well thought of Fantasy Baseball closer (1.250 career WHIP).
OK, so to the Edge, where the guitar player does not really approach his craft like Eric Clapton or Mick Ronson or Keef, who are clearly masters of the axe.
Edge relies more on sonics and harmonics–though he can play blues licks for sure–and pedals, along with dropping the fifth of the chord very often, to attain this signature chorusy shimmering sound.
Now, I get that Steve doesn’t really consider this playing, but my philosophical question to start the week is what the Edge does any less successful–and thus worthy of our approval–than was how Tekulve nudged his outs via groundballs by frustrated hitters?
Since I do like the Edge (and U2), and can not legally see without my spectacles, I approve swimmingly of both.
Last week, in my post on Simple Minds (Waterfront) I alluded to this song, which seems to have ties to Jim Kerr’s (Chrissy Hynde’s ex) song.
Waterfront is from the album Sparkles in the Rain, and I mistakenly made the connection to this song, referring to “diamonds, sparkling in the snow.”
Doesn’t matter. This is still a lovely song, showing the softer side of the great Ms. Hynde (I will revisit her with some crunch) in a sort of Christmas song/homage to Pete Farndon and James Honeyman-Scott, the late bass and guitar players for Pretenders.
A great songwriter and performer, with a social conscience and the conviction to speak out, Earle has had his demons, a la Johnny Cash.
Like Cash, Earle had his issues with drugs and the law, including spending time behind bars.
However, like Cash, that seems to have bound the singer to the working class in a way most performers of substance (not talking Toby Keith, here) might simply wish for.
This song, from the album of the same name–which happens to be my favorite of Earle’s catalog–just rocks it with words and attitude and even a sort of contextual prohibition sense of history. Did I say it rocks, too?
Earle has indeed produced a fabulous, and somewhat varied body of work, be it this early sort of alt/country rock, his work with Del McCoury, or his fantastic anti-Middle East war tome, Jerusalem.
It is high time we gave some space to Mr. Earle (and I don’t care what his friends call him!)
Last Friday I was making my Passover Cheesecake (see Cheesecake post, in fact), streaming KTKE on the Bluetooth speaker Diane bought me for Valentine’s Day, and Jokerman, from Dylan’s album Infidels, was played.
It is a song I had not thought of for a while, but similarly, it is a song from an album I really dug when it came out, featuring Sly and Robbie holding down the rhythm section, and Mark Knopfler on guitar.
The thing is, Dylan has such a huge and extraordinary body of work that it is easy to simply forget about how many great songs over how many great periods Bobby has produced.
Hearing Jokerman was great in that it is really my favorite vocal period of Dylan’s, voice wise. His singing is so laid back and really sweet, especially on this cut.
I do find it interesting, though as I search through my archives and albums and CDs that as often as not I find myself going back to Bob, who is always so satisfying, irrespective of when and what he did.
Enjoy! Goes great with a cheeseburger and some curly fries, btw!
OK, my love for Family Guy is widely known. I know, too much barf, too many farts, and sometimes there are routines and the producers simply cannot let go (Syrup of Ipecac barfing, Peter fighting the chicken, eg), but when they nail it, Family Guy nails it better than anyone. As in up there with Mad Magazine, The National Lampoon, Monty Python, SNL, you name it.
This particular selection is Stewie’s love video for Susie Swanson.
It’s awful (so is the song).
OTOH, these guys so nail sappy crappy MTV songs and videos in animated form, that what can I say?
Judge for yourself (keep the Syrup of Ipecac hand, however).
Simple Minds are a band I discovered via word of mouth. I had never heard anything of theirs for some reason (this was some time before Don’t You Forget About Me was a hit) so I bought the album, Sparkles in the Rain which is competent enough, however, this song, Waterfront, just cranks.
I remember when I was first learning to play guitar, and my friend Alan Freedman (a tremendous musician and bass player) asked me to pick out some stuff I wanted to play in a small band setting, and Waterfront was one of my requests.
Alan listened to it once, said it was a great song, and then said I would never be able to play it.
I now understand he did not mean ever, but surely vamping on a D sus4 as an A barre chord for five minutes was much too abstract for my simple band of beginners to even try to approach.
In fact, now I actually can play the guitar and bass parts (well, that is not saying much, though the time of the bass player is dead on throughout and since he plays the same riff for five minutes, that is no simple task from Simple Minds) and could probably hold my own, but I completely understand how Alan meant that it takes some musical sophistication to play something so simple effectively.
This is the Minds a year ago, and they blast it out pretty well 25-years after the release of the album.
Speaking of which, lead singer, Jim Kerr, was married to Pretenders head Chrissie Hynde, and her song, 2000 Miles features the line “sparkles, in the rain” so I always wondered who lifted the line from whom, or it was just fortuitous?
Irrespective, we need to give Ms. Hynde some virtual ink here, but for now, here are the Minds. Tell me if this song does not rock the shit out of your speakers?
When Liz Phair’s Exile in Guyville was released in 1993 I could not get enough of it. Much like the recently favorited Hans Condor’s Sweat, Jizz, Piss & Blood, which was so evocative of the early Stones, so was Phair’s disc whose title simply screams response to Exile on Mainstreet.
Phair’s label, Matador, pushed a second disc (Whip Smart) out quickly to cash in on the success of Guyville, but it wasn’t till album three, WhiteChocolateSpaceEgg that Phair cemented herself in my brain as a serious artist, rocker, songwriter, and performer.
Unfortunately, for me Phair peaked with that third, album, and has never come close to equaling the power or beauty of that pair of records.
But, the other day, while trolling through my discs, looking for something to listen to as I drove to meet my pal Eric for Sunday golf, Phair and Exile jumped out, and on it went, and it still sounded pretty good.
This tune, Mesmerizing, clearly shows just how much Liz garnered from Jagger and Keef et al.
We got the invite to our annual Passover gathering from host/friends Mark and Debbi Berenberg the other day.
Passover has become, over the years, a wondrous event: easily our favorite holiday.
My celebrating of Pesach with Mark and Debbi, and Richard and Barbara Kweller, along with David and Lynn Shussett, began in 1978, when the seven of us (plus my girlfriend at the time) gathered at the Berenberg house, eating a killer meal which featured great brisket from Debbi, and Matzoh Ball Soup (best on the planet) from Barbara.
We were young then, and it was the bay area in the 70’s, so we smoked four joints instead of drinking the traditional four glasses of wine (symbolizing the pleasures god bestows upon us). We had no Haggadah, the book that tells the story of the Exodus, so it was up to me to relate that Charlton Heston is found by Anne Baxter in the bullrushes and comes to live with Yul Brynner, and so on.
At the time, Lynne was pregnant, so that meant the first of the next generation from this core was on its way. In fact, we had a baby naming contest which I won easily with the name “Tennis” (couple it with Shussett).
Jesse was the actual moniker said child received, though she is known as “Tennis” by the originals who were there, but now, there are children and grandchildren and the table includes roughly 46, and that includes Jesse, her husband Mike, their oldest, Lucas, and their baby, Liv (this year will be Liv’s first with us) .
The dinner, which does include a traditional Seder, and goes through the story of the Exodus, is presided over by Mark, and he keeps things mostly in control, but with so many personalities, of so many ages, and so many margaritas (Mark has a special blend, which I refer to as “Markaritas”) and bottles of wine, it is a challenge.
Add in that wonderful brisket and Matzoh Ball Soup (it really is the best on the planet) and rosemary chicken and salads: enough food to feed a small battalion.
Of course there is desert, and at this point in our somewhat comfortable lives, we are all pretty serious foodies.
A few years back, I made up a sort of hybrid cheesecake that I bring as a desert item. The crust is those great Nabisco chocolate wafers, pulverized, and the body of the cake is half cream cheese and half mascarpone, and then I drizzle chocolate/hazelnut over the top.
Whenever it is time to prepare for the making this cake, I immediately think of Satchmo, also known as Louis Armstrong.
Armstrong’s influence over jazz might not be so well known to the masses, but let’s just say that starting with his real professional debut with King Oliver and the Red Onion Jazz Babies, in New Orleans, to his iconic hits like Hello Dolly and Wonderful World recorded late during his career, Satchmo ranks among the greats and most influential to modern music.
His live recordings with Ella Fitzgerald are a regular on my CD rotation, and I say this, with everyone knowing, I am a total rocker at heart. It is just that shit is so good (there is also something wonderful in hearing Armstrong, Yo La Tengo, The Clash, Jason Isabell, and the Guess Who shuffling).
I do love this song, which is stupid, simple, and simply wonderful. It is like my desert: have two slices!
