I think I drove my mom to the hospital to see my step great grandfather who had just had a hernia operation. Or she drove and I got to go back out to the car after the perfunctories, which is where I heard this pretty much perfect pop song for the first time. (And I mean that the poetry is right on, meaning the ambiguity wins.)
Enjoy.
But then there is this!
I remember reading the review of Sticky Fingers in Rolling Stone, when the record was new, and thinking how sad the reviewer’s job must be to be disappointed in this fantastic record. Today Slate’s Jack Hamilton reviews the original album (not the new double and triple disk versions meant to cash in on enthusiasm for the anniversary) and it’s a much happier and appropriate piece, and he mentions those less than enthusiastic reviews.
Because we’ve posted most of the songs from the album here over the years, especially the terrific Sway and the majestic Moonlight Mile, here is a version of Wild Horses from the Flying Burrito Brothers, which came out a year earlier than the Stones’ version.
No reason. There doesn’t have to be a reason. Or the reason is as big as your head. Or larger.
There are other good Sex Pistols songs, but this one seems to me like the heart of the project. Not exploitive or sensational, not based on obvious rock hooks, but awfully catchy and enduring.
I have no idea why I haven’t posted this pretty much perfect tune before.
Just came across this fantastic video of How Blue Can You Get, live at Sing Sing in 1972. Fantastic.
Rolling Stone has a feature with five of King’s great live performances. Are they the best? I don’t know. But they sure are great.
BB King was my gateway to the blues, via his great album Live at the Regal. I saw him live once, at the Academy of Music in New York on a bill with the J. Geils Band in 1973 or so. An amazing show.
I just read on Wikipedia that King’s favorite singer was Frank Sinatra, who similarly died on May 14th.
Sweet Little Angel is a delightful song, full of life and generous good spirits. On a sad day, I get joy, and everything.
Different than the metalchoreography. This was from Shoot Out The Lights, my first brush with Richard and Linda Thompson, in 1982. A breakup album, they toured together to support it and I saw them at Lone Star Cafe, when it was on the corner of Fifth Avenue and 13th Street (with the big lizard on the roof). There was palpable negative energy between them on stage, but when I hit the bathroom later they were hanging out by the Asteroids machine and there was the eau d’ herb about. I spent the next few years working slowly through the back catalog, which is uniformly fantastic, while Richard went on the rampage as a solo artist, releasing a lot of music in the 80s. But all starts here.
I don’t know in what world a video on YouTube can be considered rare, but I hadn’t seen this video of this, perhaps greatest Clash song of all.
