Author Archives: Lawr Michaels

Big Macs, Nick Drake, Jellyfish and KISS

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bmAs a result of my posting of Bruce Springsteen’s Prove it all Night, a discussion ensued that sort of points to not just the essence of art, but the packaging of said commodity.

Peter noted that indeed the E-Streeters were a well rehearsed machine, conveying the The Boss’s message, however he noted the message was indeed that of Bruce, and while Steve does give cred to Bruce’s early material, he did not think that much of the band live.

Fair enough.

In fact, Steve noted in addition that the Bruce and Co. had pretty much become mainstream–the stuff of “average Joe’s”–and that in general, that told him he was not interested.

Again, fair enough.

Personally, I agree with both of them, and I use the argument of McDonalds, for the company of the Big Mac is surely the most popular and successful food selling machine in our country, let alone on the planet.

But, that does not necessarily mean the “BM” either tastes good, or is good for us.

Truth is, I like a Big Mac once in a while for some perverse reason, which is indeed odd since I do all of our cooking and prepare almost exclusively from scratch.

But, I also suspect the had we gone to the original McDonalds in Southern California in 1957 and ordered a double cheeseburger, it would have been good like a burger at Burger Me, in Truckee, would nail it today. I think both would hit the spot, just as were Burger Me suddenly franchised, the animal I would eat today would probably not be like the sandwich I would get in ten years.

I think as part of the musical parallel I pointed to, I loved the Clash through their first albums, and even saw them four times during their early years. But, once Combat Rock became anthemic to the “average Joe’s,” I lost interest, no matter how good the album might have been (I have obviously heard some cuts from it, but I never owned it, unlike London Calling, or Give ”em Enough Rope, or the first Clash album).

But, I do pose the path of three artists, starting with the great British folker, the late Nick Drake, who died of an amphetamine overdose in 1974, but never got a chance to make it with the average Joe’s. Although, his great tune, Pink Moon was used as a soundtrack for an ATT commercial, and two of his tunes, Magic, and River Man, did make the charts 30 years after his death after the release of a compilation album (Made to Love Magic) and related tributes in 2004.

Had he lived, would Drake still be so dark, so moody, and to me so hauntingly accessible (we could ask the same about Buddy Holly, but please leave the over-rated James Dean out of the conversation)?

How about the bay area band Jellyfish, who had a killer debut album (Belly Button) in 1990 that fostered a big time signing, and three years later the over produced (Queen sang back-up) and under delivered Spilt Milk which resulted with poor revues and the dissolution of the band.  Heard of them, average Joe?

I thought not.

Then there is Steve’s childhood fave, KISS, whom he stands behind over their first few albums, who developed as dedicated a following, and as staged a performance as Springsteen et al. And, a band the average Joe’s love, it seems, as much as the Boss.

So, it seems the way of art is that bands or writers or painters or whatever do indeed start with a vision, and with the pain that was too much for Drake (who suffered from depression), and then either become another animal, as in Jellyfish and give up, or they simply evolve, succeed, and become boring and the apple of the average Joe eye?

 

 

Breakfast Blend: Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band, “Prove it all Night”

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The Biletones have had as busy a summer–one that has compounded just how crazy my day job has been–playing no fewer than five gigs since June, with one more benefit ahead mid-October.

Demanding or not, it is big fun, not just playing, but playing live is among the greatest feelings I have experienced.

Unfortunately, because the band does have day jobs and busy lives, we only manage practice once a week, and with that many performances on top of one another, we have pretty much kept the same set list all summer.

And, needless to say, we have become sick of most of the songs we play, no matter how much we might like them at the core.

Since there is roughly a month between the last two shows this run, we did troll one another for song suggestions, coming up with roughly ten tunes new to us to throw onto the possibles for the October soiree.

One that made the cut was The Boss’s Prove it all Night, a great cut from his equally great Darkness on the Edge of Town record.

Darkness made my Essential 50 albums, and it clearly stands as my favorite Springsteen album amongst a very strong body of work.

Say what you will about Springsteen, being a superstar, dismissing his “art” due to his fame along with the spectacle of arena rock that follows him, but, mark my words, his band is as strong and tight as any other group whoever hit the stage, and no one is more dedicated–performance by performance–to delivering a quality and entertaining show to his minions as is Springsteen and his cartel.

Similarly, Bruce is an excellent song writer, penning a variety of numbers over the years that do indeed explore the angst and uncertainty of life that we associated with rock’n’roll. In fact, because Bruce and his band have endured, we have seen him grow and reflect upon life, not just as an artist, but as an aging and maturing one who accepts his life and fate and is able to translate that experience into songs that hit a chord with his audience.

If there is a problem with Bruce and the band, he has a voice, and they have a sound that seem to make it hard to break out. Rarely do the songs from album to album differ in essence and approach as say the Stones do when you compare Aftermath to Beggar’s Banquet to Their Satanic Majesty’s Request.

True, Bruce has had his more than interesting explorations, such as the uber-satisfying Nebraska but as noted, the essence of the band has been constant over the years, and thus I think as a result he gets dismissed a little.

In fact, Springsteen and the band have been largely missing from this site (there are other bands too I have thought of that deserve reminders of just how good they are) so I thought I would try to right.

The clip below is and excellent example of the Springsteen way, which is basically concocting a four-minute gem for an album, and then blowing it into a ten-minute tour de force live.

What is different about this clip, is that Bruce is the lead guitar player, and he delivers killer notes and tone (thank you Mr. Telecaster!). Roy Brittan also provides a  lovely keys in this treatment, but the guts all go to Bruce.

KISS my Griffin

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To say I feel guilty from having been so pulled away from here is sort of rhetorical.

And, I see posts of some great tunes being spotlighted (and there are some I wanna get out there too).

Life seems to be slowing, thankfully, but, while dozing off last night, the Family Guy where Lois and Peter go to a KISS-fest was on. So, funny.

Anyway, this clip is really the only thing out there worth displaying, but it is indeed pretty good (was thinking of you Steve:  maybe Perry is right and we should get a room?).

More to come. Miss you all.

 

Night Music: The Impressions, “Gypsy Woman”

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I had this piece in my head when back a few weeks ago when we were discussing those lost years of the 60’s, btween Elvis and the Beatles, which as Gene noted were not quite so lost if you knew where to look and listen.

I do confess that Top 40 and pop, and the Four Seasons and then the Beachboys ruled the airwaves in my bedroom during that time. Those were also the days of Bobbys Vee and Rydel and Vinton, all of whom were safer than Elvis, let alone Little Richard, and well, in 1961, When Gypsy Woman was released, I was still just 9 (didn’t hit 10 till the end of October).

I do confess to liking Vee’s Take Good Care of My Baby, and the truth is by then the Elvis who released tunes like Return to Sender bore very little resemblance to the bluesy guy who covered That’s Alright Mama so wonderfully during the Sun sessions.

Though I am sure there were a myriad of songs in between Peggy Sue, which really triggered my consciousness and subsequent love for rock’n’roll, and Gypsy Woman, somehow with each I remember thinking at first listen, “man, how could anything sound so good?”

So here it is, with greats Curtis Mayfield (who penned the tune) and Jerry Butler leading the charge.

Swear. I’ll be back soon. More tunes festering, and the “What makes a great song?” issue is something I tried to tackle almost a year ago but it went nowhere (lots of words, little point).

 

Night Music: Dion & the Del Satins, “Runaround Sue,” J.D. McPherson, “North Side Gal”

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I cannot even remember what I was looking for in YouTube when on the list of suggested items I saw a link to a version Dion’s Runaround Sue, just a fantastic song.

I am sure Peter and Gene, New Yorkers both, appreciate Dion, first with the Belmonts, then as a solo artist, who represented the doo wop bands, and the toughness of the New York streets of the 50’s better than anyone.

Dion’s pained voice and words reflected the unspoken angst of an era when angst was indeed not to be spoken about: but, at least we could live our pain vicariously through Mr. diMucci.

Dion, who had his struggles along with his hits, still lives and I believe still performs, but in the 1961, with Runaround Sue, he was dynamite.

What is funny is this clip, of the singer with the band The Del Satins, is just weird.

First, I don’t remember ever hearing-or at least knowing about–a song by them backing Dion.

Second, I could swear they are all just lip synching here, because Dion recorded the song under his name alone after splitting with the Belmonts. And, the song represented sure as hell sounds like the original recording.

But, even for lip synching, these guys have to be the most laconic band in the history of anything.

Even so, my man Dion is still at least trying to perform, but the rest of the band, especially the back up sax guy who largely snaps his fingers, and sings back-up with the two guitar players, is almost dead. And, when they go into their “awwwwwwwws” none of them moves even remotely close to the single mike. Not too mention their lips are way out of synch.

The piano guy is even worse, for though he is playing, or pretending anyway, he is largely looking at the camera in some kind of earlier wishful version of a photo bomb or selfie or something.

But, enough of the band, the audience is even worse. They seem to be in a nightclub, but no one has have a drink in front of him or her (well, ok, I saw one beverage, but it looks untouched). Otherwise, they are just fucking sitting there, while Dion is at least pretending to wail. And, even if the song is piped in from the original recording, that song rocks.

Yet not one person is so much as tapping their finger on the nice white table cloths, or even swaying just a little.

Which confirms my notion of how sadly repressed we were.

Whew. Glad we can all now have sex and drugs and rock’n’roll.

While we are at it, while thinking about this piece, I happened to hear J.D. McPherson on KTKE, in Truckee, performing a song new to me, but surely evocative of Dion and doo wop and rock’a’billy.

Check it out. Pretty cool tune, and though it seems the sax is overdubbed in this video, the sax player still showed more moxie than that guy in the Del Satins.

The Beatles Top 10 (as if this is possible)

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For this exercise, I did go through the Beatles catalog (I did for the Stones, too, to be fair) but even without looking to see if I forgot something, I knew the top four songs without much thought. And, that is not because I have made a list like this before: rather I know the songs that I not only love, but the ones I have continued to cherish in my memory bank.

It is odd that nothing from St. Pepper made it, as that is generally considered the band’s landmark/seminal album, and though I have nothing to say against it, in the rear view–at least to me–it doesn’t hold as strongly as Rubber Soul, Revolver, Abbey Road, or especially the White Album (which is all over the map, but is so damned interesting).

That said, saying there is a bad Beatles album is kind of like saying there is a good Starland Vocal Band album (remember, they got a best new artist Grammy, and well the Beatles as a band never got one until Let It Be which counted as a movie soundtrack).

Here goes (but scroll to the bottom for some honorable mentions):

Please Please Me: Dynamite the first time I heard it, and it is still dynamite today. How did they do that? The  harp and machine gun drums (shades of The Locomotion?) and those staccato guitar chords and thumping bass. And the couplet: “I do all the pleasin’ baby It’s so hard to reason with you, why do you make me blue?” is so beyond brilliant it is scary. More than anything, Please Please Me defined the band, the sound, and everything that came dragging on its coattails. That is pretty good.

And Your Bird Can Sing: I have written about this song before. It was part of the best bass lines ever piece on this site, but maybe the opening guitar riff belongs in a similar Lick Hall of Fame. The only problem with the song is it is too short as in I want it to keep going. But, since the tune is as close to perfect as one can get, that observation is moot.

It’s Only Love: God how I love John, and I think a lot of it is he is cynical (Ballad of John and Yoko) and obscure (I am the Walrus) and a rocker (Revolution) and such a romantic, as in It’s Only Love. This song is so beautiful and sweet, and when John sings “why am I so shy” he is telling us he is just like us, Beatle or not. And, we should all relate.

I am the Walrus: Speaking of which, this one is just mesmerizing. It is psychedelic pop at its very best and is a song that instantly hooks, and keeps me humming, trying to figure which vocal part to sing with at times. Does anyone have a clue what this song is even about? Better, does anyone care? That is pretty good when we love a song and no one has any idea about its essence.

I’ve Got a Feeling: Such a great opening riff, and such a great song, and such great vocals, especially at the end when the “Everybody had a high here” is double tracked in rounds with itself. I get shivers just thinking about it. Great double vocals. Great drums. Great bass. Great rhythm guitar. Just great.

It’s All Too Much: Always a sucker for George’s songs, and even though Yellow Submarine is really a thrown together soundtrack, this song just sends me. It’s hypnotic. The opening alone–basically 30 seconds of feedback–defines it all. Kind of like Moonlight Mile is to the Stones, It’s All Too Much is to the Beatles for me.

Tomorrow Never Knows (TNK): Goddam, how did they know to do the things they did to get all those–at the time–crazy sounds in this wonderful song? Was it George Martin, or them? And, how much fun might it have been to simply watch them brainstorming this stuff? I also want to give cred to 801–the Phil Manzanera/Eno jam band–who more than did justice to this song as well. I tossed it in for fun.

And, 801 doing the song more than justice.

Day Tripper: One of the first riffs I was able to figure out on the guitar, was the opening to Day Tripper. The bridge into the solo with the crash cymbols ringing is just spectacular. Solo is pretty good too.

I Need You: Such a lovely song from George, and one I prefer to Something. Again, a great opening lick, and better, when the bass kicks in after the head, god, is it good. Advanced guitar effects too. Just a great song.

Here Comes the Sun: Everything I have already said about the preceding nine songs applies here. Again, just a beautiful piece, with great guitar. And, the deadly farfisa organ that comes chiming in after the bridge just destroys me. It always did is the thing. I have played a few Beatles songs live in various bands, but this is the only one that was rehearsed, and I played the lead acoustic guitar part (capo on 7th fret, if memory serves) and I did an ok job. Sang it too. Always proud that I think I did it justice.

Honorable mention (in no particular order): Revolution, I Feel Fine, 8 Days a Week, Back in the USSR/Dear Prudence, She Said, While My Guitar Gently Weep and You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away.

BTW, three points each.

Stones’ Top 10

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The tough part of compiling a Top 10 like this is that I can pare a catalogue of tunes down to 15-17, but then all bets are off.

So, while picking my choices, I went for a combo of my favorites that are still songs I will crank up on the radio or stereo or my IPhone or whatever music delivery system is in fashion.

Otherwise, this list does not need much of an introduction.

It’s All Over Now: Once I heard the opening riff of this song, I loved it. And, I still do, despite it being a staple of the Biletones tunes (I get to sing it) since Day 1 of the band.

As previously noted in the Obit of last week, the song was penned by Bobby Womack, but it was as clearly deconstructed by Keith and Mick as was All Along the Watchtower written by Dylan, but owned by Hendrix. To me the Stones own It’s All Over Now as well.

She Said Yeah: From the first time I heard this song, it was instant love. Rocks as hard as any punk song ever, yet pre-dates by 15 years. From the first album by the Stones I bought, much to the chagrin of my older brother who wanted something more mainstream.

I won and still have my December’s Children copy.

Out of Time: I actually heard the great Chris Farlowe version, which at the time I did not realize was even a cover, before I heard the Stones treatment. Farlowe does have a monster voice, but over the years I came to prefer the Stones copy better, even though Farlowe more than put his stamp on this bad boy.

Here is Farlowe first, though awful awful dubbing/lip-synching. Just close your eyes.

This version, however, is deadly.

Moonlight Mile: There is something so dreamy about this tune, one that probably conveys the sensation drugs can provide as well if not better than any song ever. Sticky Fingers had so many great tunes, but this one is my favorite.

Dandelion: I was always more of a pop guy than a blues guy, and with this song the band really sealed it for me as clever and tuneful and interesting as well as willing to grow. And, man Charlie Watts is just righteous in this one.

Hand of Fate: I never expected to like this song as I was much more into the punk and new wave stuff when Black and Blue came out, but my roommate of the time, Bill Emrick simply bought every Stones album irrespective. This song came on the turntable one day and it has stuck with me ever since.

A great guitar song.

Connection: Seems like a throwaway in the context of all the great songs the Stones produced, but this has a hook, great licks, and a chorus that simply will not go away.

19th Nervous Breakdown: The Stones did one thing differently than the other bands: they seemed to distance themselves from their audience such that when they wrote about drugs or heartbreak there was a detachment between them and what they were playing/singing.

In fact in Mother’s Little Helper and this song, they are almost sneering at the rest of us victims of society and social pressure that we are.

Great bass run at the end, by the way.

2000 Light Years From Home: Released in the shadow of the Beatles Sgt. Pepper, I actually think Their Satanic Majesty’s Request borne the test of time better than the Beatles classic which doesn’t sound as fresh to me these days.

Maybe I heard Sgt. Pepper too much, but this number–with some killer guitar work–is just great. And, I spent so many hours scouring the 3D of Satanic Majesty cover looking for all four Beatles (easy to find Paul and Ringo and George, but John took forever).

Factory Girl: Funny that my favorite Stones album only placed one tune in my Top 10, and at the bottom for that matter.

But, it doesn’t detract from just how fucking good and rootsy and bluesy Beggar’s Banquet is.

I did put these in order of my favorites in the moment of writing, but that could change by tomorrow.

Still, just three points apiece, please.

Lunch Break: The Knitters, “Fourth of July”

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Well, a happy Independence Day to you all, especially in these times of political strife and angst.

Being the progeny of immigrants who fled Germany with what little they could drag with them, leaving fortunes and family behind to perish at the hands of the Third Reich, I find it frustrating these days to see the perverted way in which the Tea Party and right wing have somehow co-opted the ideas of freedom that the then left wing Sons of Liberty–the bulk of whom were Deists, not Christians or Puritans at all–represented.

For the conservative faction of this country does not understand that during the revolutionary war they would have been Torries, embracing the edicts of King George (as the Bush family, who actually date back that far did, actively supporting the crown during the war of 1812), opposed to the path of independence chosen by Samuel  Adams, his cousin John, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin, and George Washington.

Similarly, that same right wing does not seem to get that one of the reasons the American Revolution worked was that it was indeed a guerrilla war, fought on our own soil, against a potentially more dominant foe (England), but an absentee one. Meaning every time we think of invading a foreign land, like Iraq or Iran or Viet Nam, we should remember the three points the home field advantage affords in football.

In other words, it is tough to win an away war.

That said, I am a seriously patriotic and freedom loving first generation American who believes in liberty and justice for all, and that indeed all men are created equal, despite the initial success of our country being rooted in the slavery of African Americans and the genocide of the Native Americans.

For the truth is we all have our dark side: the problem emanates from denying that fact.

Which brings me to the great LA punk band X, founded by John Doe, DJ Bonebroke, and Exene Cervenka, who work a side project with Blasters founder Dave Alvin, and Jonny Ray Bartel of the band The Red Devils.

That band is The Knitters, who released a first album of roots music, Poor Little Critter on the Road in 1985, and then followed up with a second disc in 2005 entitled Modern Sounds of the Knitters.

When asked about the 20-year gap between albums, Doe deadpanned, “The Knitters, like their music, don’t do anything hasty. Since our last record’s been out for a while and it did pretty good, we figured it was just about time to put out another.”

What is better is the song I chose to acknowledge our Independence Day is not on either album the Knitters produced, in fact I could not even find a youtube of the band performing this great song, so I had to stick with this version by Doe and his cohorts, which I like a lot better than the couple of more countrified versions out there by Alvin and his mates.

The recording is a little rough, but I suspect just like our revolution was sort of a rag tag affair at its inception, and one that gathered momentum as it continued, so is the song.

It is also a standard of the Biletones set list, and if we had a video of us cranking it out, then I would have happily posted it.

But, we will have to stick with Doe, for he and mates do it justice despite the funky sound.

A safe and wonderful holiday and holiday weekend to all: just, as you enjoy BBQ and fireworks and savoring our freedom, remember the notion came from progressive (though admittedly imperfect) men who had a vision. Let’s stay true to that, and not the idiot demagogues who preach their vision of freedom, but dismiss any other.

 

RIP: Gerry Goffin, It Might as Well Rain Until Forever

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In 1958, I was first really hit by pop music and the radio. That is when I first heard Buddy Holly’s Peggy Sue, at the tender age of five. There are other tunes from around that period of my life that I remember–Gypsy Woman, Little Star, Sorry, I Ran All the Way Home, Come Softly to Me–but at that age I also played with army men and cowboys and well, I did not own a radio. Not to mention the radios we did have were controlled by my parents.

But, it was in the summer of 1962, when I was 10 and we were at a family camp near Lake Tahoe, I heard the incredible machine gun drums and droning saxes of what was the huge hit that summer, The Locomotion for the first time, and if Buddy Holly was the first nail of my rock and roll coffin, that moment was second.

The Locomotion was penned by Carole King and her then husband, Gerry Goffin, and was the first hit for their Dimension record label, but in reality, the team of Goffin and King had been cranking out hits as members of the Brill Building for years.

The Brill Building was the songwriting haven for luminaries that included Lieber and Stoller, Neil Sedaka, Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil, all of which is documented beautifully in the book Always Magic in the Air by Ken Emerson.

The Locomotion led to a request for a radio for the bedroom I then shared with my brother, and that Xmas we were given a white Packard Bell. As if that were not enough, our family also got a Motorola phonograph which played all speeds–16, 33.3, 45, and 78 RPM–of records.

We also got a copy of The First Family album, a political parody of the Kennedy family that was a huge hit at the time, and that started me on my path to collections of records and CDs along with a room full of musical instruments and playing in bands and pretty much a lifelong love of music in all forms. It started me on parodies, too.

Though I would have probably been hooked by music pretty soon anyway (I’m thinking had it not been The Locomotion, it would have been the Rockin’ Rebels Wild Weekend a few months later).

Wild Weekend was not written by Goffin and King, but it was a seriously rocking aong and one that hit me at the time like my mate Steve here notes KISS hit him. Don’t forget, I was just 11-years old then.

But, back to Goffin and King, among the wonderful hits the pair wrote are:

  • Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? (The Shirelles)
  • Take Good Care of my Baby (Bobby Vee)
  • Might as Well Rain Until September (The Shirelles/Carole King)
  • One Fine Day (The Chiffons)
  • Pleasant Valley Sunday (The Monkees)
  • Up on the Roof (The Drifters)
  • I’m into Something Good (Herman’s Herrmits/Earl-Jean)
  • Don’t Bring Me Down (The Animals)
  • (You Make Me Feel Like a) Natural Woman (Aretha Franklin)

Now, you have to remember that at the time a lot of the rock and roll was laughable by today’s standards. The wonderful and visceral and sexual Little Richard, for example, was sanitized by the awful Pat Boone for white kids (remember too this music was burgeoning around the time of the Civil Rights movement in the early).

But, much like Hip Hop was developed by the African American community, and the form was then “appropriated” for even broader commercial exploitation (and believe me, I am not talking the Beastie Boys here) earlier, rollicking rhythm and blues was swiped a la Richard to Boone.

At the time, though, Tutti Fruitti as performed by Little Richard was akin to Jimi Hendrix humping his Strat-O-Caster, or Wendy giving Prince a quasi blow job in the Purple Rain film (she does play a Rickenbacker, though), or anything current from Beyoncé on out.

Still, pop music, which was not necessarily rock and roll, was similarly tamer, and more orchestrated, an off-shoot of Broadway and tin pan alley largely still without the dominance of the electric guitar. Though that was indeed coming.

And, whether it floats your boat or not, or if the songs sound horribly dated and silly, the tunes of Goffin and King, I think, are still just lovely little masterpieces, much in the same league of Phil Spector. In fact, John Lennon noted that he wanted his songs with Paul McCartney to of the same ilk as those of the Dimension duo.

I still feel Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow is among the sweetest of love songs.

One of the things that always nailed me about this production is the beautiful tremoly rake of the electric guitar on the “one” of each measure. Such a simple and sweet effect, and one that has impressed me to the tune that I try to employ it often when I am playing rhythm guitar.

By the time Pleasant Valley Sunday hit it, the Beatles had come and guitars were happening and even Hippies were here, criticizing the plastic life of the suburbs, so Goffin came up with this:

Oddly this is a song I always kind of wanted to cover in some band or another.

So, last week, Goffin passed away at the age of 75.

Though I have been so remiss at contributing here at the site–it is hard once my work week begins to find time for much else, but, well, 185 more calendar days–I could not let his passing go without honoring and thanking just a great songwriter and influence on my life.

So, I will close with one other tune from the pair, and the one that introduced me to the voice of Carole King:

Thanks Gerry. Peace out.

 

Night Music: The Vapors, “Letter From Hiro”

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All that stuff about the Records last week just reminded me how much I loved the flood of British Power Pop bands that poured in tagging along with the punks in the late 70’s.

Nick Lowe might have led the charge with Paul Weller (The Jam) and Bram Tchaikovsky (The Motors)  along with Eddie and the Hot Rods and the Tom Robinson band. It was great here in the Bay Area, as one of those bands tickled in each week.

Such were the Vapors, who became legitimate one-hit wonders with their incredibly clever and tuneful–and I guess by now overplayed–Turning Japanese. And, the album the gave us that song, New Clear Days, was just as solid to me as was the Records vinyl.

In saying that get that I really dug them both, and still do.

So, I went to the tune I remember best from their big album, A Letter From Hiro.

Which oddly seems to also tie back into all the Japanese power pop of a few years back.

Strange.