My old friend Dot skipped the debate tonight to see ZZ Top in Scottsdale, in Arizona.
Good choice, I said, but then I started thinking about ZZ Tops’ biggest hit and the video that dominated MTV for a while and thought it provided some commentary for the current political situation, which involves a lot of lies, a discombobulated narrative, bullying and, we hope at the end of day, some women’s liberation. Even if we don’t ever see Hillary kiss Bill again.
As you might expect, the signifiers are a mixed bag. Just vote.
I’m in love with HWIII when he and his band are rocking the country sound. Was listening to an album the other day that descended into some kind of death metal squawking, which wears thing quickly for me. But this is all day.
My first experience of Mustang Sally was this single by the Young Rascals.
The history of white acts covering hits originally performed by black acts is long, deep and full of argument.
I mean, Pat Boone?
The Rascals, as they grew up to be known, were better than exploiters, but where you draw the line concerning cultural appropriation might color your opinion. What I’m sure of is the Rascals loved R&B music, and brought their own shape (my first thought was to say color, but that would be wrong) to it.
The most surprising aspect of our Spotify subscription is that Diane is crazy for it. She is admittedly not a music junkie like any of us here at the Remnants, in fact I asked what artists she followed and she promptly replied, “none.”
She just likes listening to playlists with high energy stuff she can work out to, and soul and funk from any era she can bop to while driving her car. But, I was surprised when she sent me a link to a song the other day, and I could not help but think of the song as analogous to other generations of horny post pubescent music junkies.
The first instance of song where boys are pleading for sex I could think of was the wonderful Good Golly Miss Molly by the one and only Little Richard, who was certainly clear about the whole sex/music thing in the fifties. This was at a time when saying words like “panties” were verboten on screen, for example, as shown in this clip from the Otto Preminger’s 1959 film, Anatomy of a Murder.
This clip of Richard, covering his tune, released in 1958, a year before Anatomy of a Murder came out, speaks for itself with respect to lyrical content, but this clip was so perfect, as it is Richard live, playing for Muhammad Ali’s 50th birthday. And, well I have been thinking a lot about the loss of the great Ali as well as that of Prince, recently, and what a huge loss to our planet their spirits is.
The 60’s were not much better, and though this is indeed my favorite song by the Beach Boys, it is so lily-white in the Pat Boone’s cover of Little Richard’s Tutti Fruitti, sense, it makes my skin crawl. But, Brian Wilson could only hint at a time when “making love” still was kind of like Laurence Olivier suggesting the wooing of Joan Fontaine in Rebecca meant sweet talk behind a potted plant.
Here is the Beach Boys supporting that in the middle class white world very little changed over the 20 or so years between Rebecca and Don’t Worry Baby (which included that awful Boone shit in the middle of the time span). By the way, I love the song, but is this the worst “video” ever?
But, 50 years after Don’t Worry Baby, reality has struck and the world has simultaneously gone to hell in a hand basket, as witnessed by this song, by Strip Johnny, that popped up on Diane’s “Discover Weekly.” She heard it and just had to share with me.
Truth is, I really like this last song a lot! Not as much as Little Richard, though. At least not just yet.
My daughter is writing a research paper about the Dust Bowl. She was looking for a title, and I glibly suggested Dust In The Wind. She liked it. I hope she gets an A.
But that moment was a reason to listen to the tune, which I probably haven’t done in a really long time. But in all these years, I could sing the song, and certainly have.
Checking out the video tonight. It is cheesy, but the melody and starkness of the tune are unforgettable. Is abjectness a vibe? Apparently.
Does that make it a great song? The video tells me this is some sort of midwestern crazy fundamental evangelical nonsense. All these pictures are like those on the internet that promise me pictures that changed weddings, history, Woodstock.
But the tune is straightforward, and was a hit everywhere. Maybe it’s the great melody, with an idea that everyone finds inevitable. Hell yeah!
What I don’t hear is careerism. I hear Remnants who went big and hit one out. Cool!
If the world of pop music is endangered, then our system of finance and government is on life support.
It is Memorial Day, a day we need to seriously acknowledge the sacrifices made to keep our freedoms in tact and yet just now Congress is working to make our National Parks open to corporate sponsorship. Great. “Yosemite, Sponsored by Geico” is just what I was hoping to see next time I go the the park in order to get away from…Geico commercials.
I mean, it is bad enough that when the US Government evicted the Ahwahnechee tribe from the park when Theodore Roosevelt and Congress made Yosemite government protected land in 1903 (the park moved under the jurisdiction of the National Park Service in 1916). The Ahwahnechee had only lived in the valley for what some estimate as 7,000 years, basing their life cycles, religion, and culture around the seasons in what they considered a sacred place. But, what the fuck: the government evicted the tribe, and relocated them to Florida.
That is a terrible legacy, but the real problem is our culture is so focused on who has the most money and what said funds can buy that we have sold our soul accordingly. Don’t want to wait in the TSA line? Pay to get pre-check. Wanna drive in the carpool lane alone? Pay extra to the government and you can in some states.
Both these examples might seem silly, and even benign, but in a country where ostensibly “all men are created equal,” the very statement suggests we are all content to wait our turn in the lines of life.
Hah.
Impatient, money grubbing, and confusing financial success and power with competence and the ability to actually structure and order our society in a manner that does give everyone an equal shot are the rule, and if you doubt that, try explaining Donald Trump.
In contemplating this sorry state of affairs, all I could think of was the Brains fantastic song Money Changes Everything, and I went to YouTube in search of a version by the band, but what I really liked is this great live cover by Cyndi Lauper of the song that does indeed appear on her wonderful album She’s So Unusual.
Backed by another band I dig, The Hooters–who scored a hit during the same time frame with And We Danced–Lauper does indeed deliver a tour de force performance. I wish her passion could be channeled to the rest of the country so we would fucking wake up and recognize, money does change everything, and not necessarily for the better. (BTW, check out Lauper’s kicks: one white Chuck Taylor with black laces, and a Black one with white laces. Brilliant.)
While trashing Deep Purple earlier, I stumbled into this video (which I guess a lot of folks have seen, but it eluded me) made when George Harrison was inducted as a solo artist into the Rock’n’Roll Hall of Fame.
It is very good, but, if you ever doubted Prince’s mastery of the axe, watch this cos he KILLS (what happens to his guitar after the solo?).
Additionally, this great little piece about how it all came about and went down, by Finn Cohen, from the New York Times,is way interesting and fun and cool.
Finally, it might be easy to say Prince was grandstanding grabbing the spotlight on a song meant to be an homage to a late and great artist, but, Harrison was inducted the same year as the Purple One and I think that gives him some license to kick out some jams.
As noted, because of the bigoted nature of Okie from Muskogee, I have always had a tough time with Merle Haggard, no matter who he played with, or what he wrote.
But, this answer to Okie, by the Youngbloods was always strong in my heart and made me think there was at least an artistic “fuck you” pointed back at Merle and the song. Olema is a little town near the Pt. Reyes National Seashore, a beautiful area in Northern California.
I was streaming 60’s hits on Spotify as I drove to meet the family for dinner Friday evening, and the lovely Alone Again, Or by Love came willowing out of the speakers via my IPhone.
I was always a big Love fan, but the song that really did it for me was this one, 7 And 7 Is. I was 13 when the song was released in June of 1966 and along with I Fought the Law the song was easily my favorite of the summer (though You’re Gonna Miss Me by the 13th Floor Elevators ranks right there too).
Clearly, the wall of guitars and driving beat prove I was a rocker of the highest order, even back then. And, well, when I pulled the song up on YouTube this morning, 7 And 7 Is had lost none of its punch.
So, rather than chocolate eggs or a spiral ham for Easter, you can get a virtual slug in the chest from the late great Arthur Lee and his mates. And, tell me if the song doesn’t sound as good and advanced today as it did 50 years ago?
