Category Archives: lawr

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.

 

Lunch Break: Lee Michaels, “Streetcar”

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Peter posted last week on the ever-fun Lee Michaels (sigh, no relation unfortunately) and his biggest hit, Do You Know What I Mean?

I was a big Michaels fan back then, and I think I saw him at Winterland and Sound Factory and various little northern California venues four times with my childhood friend Stephen Clayton.

I never saw him play with anyone but his great and behemoth drummer, Bartholomew Smith-Frost aka “Frosty.”

Further, I always remember he was barefoot, and from what I could see, his feet were really dirty (even back then, he was a stoner after my own heart).

I remember loving Michaels’ first pair of albums–Carnival of Life and Recital–after which he released Barrel, the work the artist insisted was his first real album. That is because Barrel was just Michaels and Frosty whereas the first two efforts featured the likes of studio-men Eddie Hoh and Hamilton Watt and friends.

The problem is as much as I liked Michaels and Frosty live, similarly I thought those first two albums were full of great tunes and some decent crunch and psychedelia.

The song I picked here is Streetcar which was my fave on that first Carnival of Life album.

As I was searching for Michaels information to assemble this little ditty, I did come across his website, which is kind of a hoot in a “peace and love I am a bit of a scattered stoned out hippie but that doesn’t mean I am stupid or anything” way.

Here is the link:

http://www.leemichaels.com/LeeMichaels.com/no_war.html

As they say at Penny Lane, “very strange.”

Afternoon Snack: “Sukiyaki,” Kyu Sakamoto

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All the Japanese pop some forced this song into my head, and, to quote Lucinda Williams, I Can’t Let Go.

Not that I wish I could.

Kyu Sakamoto was sort of the Masanori Marukami of pop: Sakamoto the only Asian to log a #1 hit in Billboard history, and well, this is it. And, though he was a one-hit wonder here, though “Mashi” (the Giants nickname for Marukami, the first Japanese born in the Major Leagues) was kind of like that too, they at least both paved the way.

I guess it is pleasant enough, and when the song came out in 1963 it was indeed a huge hit (sold 13 million units overall). But, this song is certainly not pop as I think of it, and it is as far removed from rock and roll as Percy Faith and Mitch Miller and even Pat Boone’s obnoxious cover of Tutti Fruiti.

Not sure why it was such a big hit, though? Sort of muzak with words none of us knows, and as I thought about it, I thought about compiling a Steveslist of the six songs not sung in English to hit #1 on the Billboard chart.

But, as I looked at them, they were all really so awful–and I get they may evoke fond memories in some–that I just couldn’t do it.

However, they are:

  1. Nel Blu Dipinto di Bleu: Domenico Modguno, 1958 (My mother loved this song: Bobby Rydell did the American thing with Volare.)
  2. Sukiyai: Kyu Sakamoto, 1963
  3. Dominique: The Singing Nun, 1963 (See how badly we needed the Beatles? Two of these dogs in one year.)
  4. Rock me Amadeus: Falco, 1896 (Proud that I have no conscious clue what this song is.)
  5. La Bamba: Los Lobos (I love the Lobos, and this song, in fact this is the best tune on the list, but why not Richie Valens?)
  6. Macarena: Los Dell Rio, 1996 (Never understood and I guess the only reason I know this song is they played it at the ball park.)

I just don’t get any of these songs, save La Bamba, which is really a treatment of a Mexican folk song, being hits at all. Not that I am trying to be xenophobic, but in general the music is cheesy and most really cannot understand the words. Meaning if we were on Bandstand, and doing “Rate a Record,” we couldn’t say, “I give it a 73, Dick. It had a nice beat and I liked the lyrics.”

OTOH, I don’t get I’ve Never Been to Me or Abba songs (maybe tuneful, but so what?) or even Snoopy Versus the Red Baron (which I hated at the time as much as I hated Incense and Peppermints and In the Year 2525.)

BTW, this video of Sukiyaki is the official publicity one Sakamoto released. And, sadly, in another shot at fame, Sakamoto was killed as one of the fatalities resulting from the JAL air crash August 12, 1985 the worst air disaster in history.

So, on that sobering note, enjoy if you can. If you dare.

 

Seth MacFarlane Knows

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Life is busy.

That is my cheap shit excuse for neglecting to surrender my share of contributions to the Site here over the past weeks.

Truth is, my life is very busy, although I am in the process of transitioning from one of those more than demanding day jobs that really pays the bills and provides my health care, to the ranks of the retired. Although for me retired means writing four or five baseball columns a week, working on some fiction, being at the ball park, playing music, writing songs, and well, writing here too among other things.

Well, rest assured, just because I get distracted and forget to post stuff here, it doesn’t mean I am not thinking about it.

And, while I have a lot of fodder floating around in my grey cells, somehow when watching Family Guy a couple of weeks ago I saw this which demonstrates just how brilliant Seth MacFarlane and his mates can be.

I get if you hate Family Guy. Peter Griffin is as oafish and mostly offensive a character as we can imagine. In fact if The Simpsons has proved to be the best representation of American Family life ever recorded, the Griffin family has pushed that envelope by showing our basically soulless full of reality TV instant experts internet cell phone culture in an even more visceral way.

In other words, yeah: lots of fart and toilet jokes, too much blood and vomit, lots of gags that no one can let go of, and on and on.

However, if you can indulge creator MacFarlane just a little, when he is on, he is so on it is scary.

And, very often, that on is the result of some musical genius.

Not that we are talking Lou Reed or the Hellacopters or original music.

More like knowing that the ever-hot Lois Griffin banged all of Kiss as a young woman, something that makes her Trog husband Peter proud.

But, the show also riffs other songs and genres and stuff so brilliantly. As in the song/sequence below where MacFarlane and mates take on Disney, not only in song, but with just a few deft line changes from the animators, and a little creative use of metaphor, well, you get this:

OK, so it ain’t rock’n’roll, but it is funny and I do like it. It is also smart, which I also like.

When I think about it, in fact, most of my earliest exposure to classical music–aside from what my parents usually had going in the background–was the result of Looney Tunes, as in this great clip of Bugs playing Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody #2 (although when I first saw it, I had no idea what the music was):

To finish off, I am going back to Family Guy, again with a song and dance number that is so clever, and to pair with Bugs and his ilk, links back to the 30’s with the song Bag O’ Weed which totally riffs on the Marx Brothers and Duck Soup (I looked for a video clip of the brothers banging on the helmeted heads of the enemy Sylvanians with dubbed xylophone music that MacFarlane parodies, and could not find one).

However, if you watch carefully during the finale, you will indeed see a Groucho head spill out (at 2:49) among the images, giving credit where credit is due right after the Duck Soup riff (instead of helmets, Brian and Stewie are banging on bongs).

OK, so I got that out of my system, and I can start writing about some serious music. Like Foghat.

Happy and safe holiday to you all.

 

 

 

 

Lunch Break: Jim Carroll Band, “Wicked Gravity”

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What else would I be doing during the day than working and listening to KTKE? Even if baseball is on in the background, the volume is down, essentially sparing me the observations of commentators explaining what I can see for myself.

This time, the nugget from the past they hit me with was Wicked Gravity by the Jim Carroll Band

Carroll was a young poet who emerged from the New York arts scene of the late 70’s, along with Patti Smith and Robert Maplethorpe, with whom he apparently shared living space as the punk movement was burgeoning.

He published an autobiographical volume, The Basketball Diaries, in 1978 that dealt with his adolescence, sex, shooting hoops in high school, and drugs, specifically the author’s heroin addiction.

Largely a product of a Catholic upbringing, the young poet hit the music scene to, forming a band and releasing a decent enough first album, Catholic Boy.

The big hit from the disc was For All the People Who Died, but I always dug the cut here, Wicked Gravity a little more as a song.

Apparently this clip was posted on YouTube by Carroll Band bass player Steve Lisnley, who noted the video is from the band’s final live performance.

Carroll produced music, prose, and poetry through 2000. He passed away in 2009 at the age of 60 from a heart attack, and one posthumous volume, The Petting Zoo was released in 2010.

 

Steveslist: My Favorite Bass Lines (Today)

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I hardly ever get a chance to play guitar these days. Which is a drag because though I am an adequate lead player, I am a pretty strong rhythm guy.

But, sort of by default, I have become a bass player over the past six or seven years, and that has been interesting as part of my growth as a so-called musician.

What this has done is now when I hear a song, I not only listen to the bass on the song more carefully, but similarly do I imagine what I would play, humming the line and notes to myself.

When I do find a run I like, I have been dragging the tune the bass line is attached to over to my teacher Steve Gibson, and try to pick it apart, and learn some new stuff.

So, this list represents the last cluster of songs where I just found the bass deadly and fun to learn.

Long Way to Go (Alice Cooper): I was driving to band practice a couple of weeks ago and looked for something to sing along to while driving to get my voice warm. And, though I have loved the Love it to Death album since it came out in 1971, and even knew bits and pieces of the bass parts throughout, I had never really let the bass of Long Way to Go–which is the song that gives the album its title–hit me. Well, till a couple of weeks ago, and I stopped singing and dug just how great this bass line is.

Some wonderful chromatic walkdowns, and isolated notes are all great, but what really nailed me was the completely different path during the interlude/breakdown before the final verse.  Just brilliant playing by the band’s bassist, Dennis Dunaway.

The original Alice Cooper band might well be the best garage band ever (gotta give props to the Ramones here, too), and it is such a shame that they mostly self-destructed after Killer.

I know my mate and fellow bass player Steve will love it to death that I put this song atop the list.

Secret World (Peter Gabriel): Peter Gabriel sometimes seems overlooked to me considering how what a great visionary and explorer of music and art he is.

Arguably, his Sledgehammer video was among the early really c0hesive pieces of celluloid to  grace the scene.

Though I was never a big fan of Genesis, his mark on that group goes without saying. And, though I am not that crazy about Phil Collins as a singer/songwriter, he is an excellent drummer, and Gabriel’s influence on Collins as a tunesmith speaks for itself. Or at least it used to.

This song, though is such a tour de force number it is hard to deny, and the great Tony Levin’s bass playing just kills me.

The studio version of Secret World is good, but when Gabriel and his band do it live, things move, shall we say, to another planet and level.

Watch the video here and you will both see what I mean, including Gabriel’s vision as an artist.

Cold Sweat (James Brown): I probably would not have been stung quite so hard by this song, had teacher Steve not brought it to my attention. This line created by the Flames Bernard Odum is a case study in time, discipline, and the selection of notes.

Not much more I can add to that.

Dazed and Confused (Led Zeppelin): While I have always owned albums by the Zep, and dug their songs, it was not till I started seriously playing music 20 years ago that I began to really appreciate just how good they are/were.

The first eponymously titled album was influential in ways I have described before, but over the last few months, the Biletones were trying out a new drummer, whom I subsequently fired a few weeks ago.

His biggest crimes were not keeping time for the band, as opposed playing the drums and not paying any attention to the rest of us, and in the process, not locking into me. I think the drums are the heartbeat of a song, and the bass the pulse, and they need to be in lockstep, complementing one another.

There were other musical transgressions committed by Scott, but that was the most egregious, as in I simply couldn’t, and then wouldn’t play with him. Cos he would never look at me or synch with me.

Bad.

Anyway, Dazed and Confused is textbook synch between drummer John Bonham and bass player John Paul Jones.

In particular, the call and response between the bass and the drums during the interlude might seem overly simplistic, but that is the feel I always want with whomever I am sharing the rhythm section.

And Your Bird Can Sing (Beatles): Anyone who doubts just how brilliant Paul McCartney’s playing is has obviously not listened too carefully. But this song, among my favorites of the group’s catalogue, just shows every piece of clever and musicianship these guys had in less than two minutes. The bass line is beyond musical. It is magical.