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.
This one is in honor of Mad Max Fury Road, another Australian export. There is great tension in the buildup here, and after the dance starts it goes away. Nice.
This seems to be a thing.
This one is called insane, but it seems a little sad.
This is funny.
I missed this loud performance of new songs on David Letterman last February. There is something tonic in hearing this much noise on mainstream TV, even if Mould’s melodies are so narrow that it’s hard to tell where one song starts and the other begins.
And that bass solo sounds a little too much like the theme from Friends for comfort, but the rest is as comfortably loud as Danzig on Mothers Day.
I am a big fan of the Chicago-based band, Wilco, in fact their fantastic Yankee Hotel Foxtrot made my essentials list.
The wonderful thing about Yankee Hotel is that it was recorded when the band was signed to Sony Records, and they delivered the album which Sony determined was “unlistenable,” so the the brains at Sony rejected the disc and released Wilco from their contract.
Undaunted, the band toured, performing songs from the album, looking for a new deal. During their road adventures, the band delivered the same buzz that got them signed in the first place (well, that and they formed out of the terrific Uncle Tupelo so that helped), and suddenly there was a bidding war which was won by Interscope records who gave the band a $200,000 signing bonus.
Yankee Hotel went on to become a critics fave, much to the chagrin of Sony, but the real beauty is that Interscope is owned by Sony, meaning they paid another $200K to be able to release the album they rejected in the first place.
Ah, sweet karma.
But, this tune is from the band’s fine Being There disc, and it totally rocks. In fact, the BileTones are such Wilco fans that we have a half-dozen of their songs on our ever growing set list, and always play two or three per show.
And, of all those songs, Outtasite is a mainstay.
So, first, here is the band killing it on Letterman.
And, for fun, here are the Tones at Raymond’s in Cazadero, Ca, near the Russian River.
Warren Zevon’s last appearance on David Letterman’s show, as he waited for his final taxi. And we wait for Letterman to ease off into retirement.
Finally.
Someone posted the entire Rolling Thunder Bootleg Volume 5, which essentially covers what was a normal Rolling Thunder Review gig by Dylan and his Renaldo and Clara band in 1975.
The Rolling Thunder Band, who toured between October of that year and May of 1976, totally cranked it out, featuring the likes of Ramblin’ Jack Elliot, Joan Baez, Steven Soles, Roger McGuinn, and my faves, T-Bone Burnett and Mick Ronson.
This version of It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Train to Cry not only completely deconstructs the original studio version, but it just fucking smokes.
The interplay between Burnett and Ronson, along with great growling bass of Rob Stoner, makes this my favorite Dylan period.
And, this cut is my favorite on the disc and of the set. In fact, this might be my all time favorite live song recording, with my all time favorite guitar solos.
Check out the first Ronson solo, during which he plays the same Chuck Berry lick 16 times before blasting into some free-form Chuck-land. Then, to make sure we get it, he closes the song out with another totally killer blast that even Keef would smile about.
Swear to God: fire comes out of the speakers (or is it my head?) every time I play this.
Please note, that this link posts the entire 22-song box set, and though it is all terrific, #16 is It Takes a Lot to Laugh on the playlist. Sorry for the inconvenience, but you will see it is more than worth it!
My old buddies John Seabrook and John Homans have been fronting the Sequoias, a hard driving cover band, for quite a few years now. Here’s a story I posted, with video, from a show of theirs a couple of years ago.
Tonight they step up, however, with a gig at the Mother Nature Network’s White House Correspondents’ Jam at the Fairmont Hotel. The key ingredient this evening, however, aren’t the five bands that are playing that feature journalists, but the piano player for at least one number with each of them: Chuck Leavell.
Rare still photo (actually video frame capture) of some of the Sequoias.
Leavell is promoted as the piano player for the Rolling Stones, which is true, but I’ll always think of him as a member of the Allman Brothers Band.
Go see them if you can!
UPDATE: Tech issues made posting last night a nightmare. Here are a few quick notes this morning before work.
Went out to dinner with Mrs. Rotoman and two friends, Lisa and Terry, at a tasty and crazy Bengladeshi place off Sixth Street. Good food, good fun.
Walked over to Bowery Electric in the cold, and got hands stamped (always fun). As showtime approached we met another friend, Walker, and headed into the charming room downstairs. The crowd was mostly middle-aged rockers, probably 150 or so souls. I didn’t feel old, for instance, but I did feel preppy.
The UC emerged at 10:47, two minutes late. Count Bassie kept his pinkie extended, politely. The crowd cheered. The band plugged in, Lord Bendover said, “we are here to roq-cue you,” and they played Let Them Eat Rock.
Another early fave was “Little Lord Fauntleroy.” Bendover introduced “Badminton” by saying it light of the impending summer they would play a song they rarely played live. It was a rare song in which the vocals weren’t crisp and clear, which was too bad, since they’re delightful.
Other highlights were the Duc d’Stortion-sung I Shall Winter Elsewhere, a lively ode to winter holidays set to a Chuck Berry riff, and Count Bassie on vocals for the Small Faces’ like Come Hither Fair Youth, followed by the stomper I’ve Got Class Up the Ass.
Yet another friend, another Lisa, had arrived a bit late. I found her upstairs on the mezzanine. The show wound down at midnight, with one encore that came after they took off guitars but didn’t leave the stage. “We must conserve our energy,” Bendover said while remounting.
It was a great fun show by a most unusual band. Who knows why they keep doing it, playing smallish clubs has to be a hassle and not that remunerative. But they are a tight rock band playing songs in a variety of hard rock styles with truly clever and funny lyrics and stage patter. That never gets old.
Here’s a bad clip (and big file that will take some time to load) to give just a taste. I’ll find more on the rocking web and post later.
We all agree that great rock songs don’t need great lyrics. But sometimes I’m sucked in by a singer/songwriter who is clever and fresh lyrically, even if the music isn’t particularly distinctive or original or rocking.
Courtney Barnett is a bit of a critic’s darling right now, which is how I learned about her. Her lyrics are funny and probing, revealing and cleverly opaque, with enough pop sense to suck one in if one listens enough. Which I did, and now I’m a fan, even though as I listen I can’t help but hear the drone of Lou Reed in her delivery. And hearing that drone, I can’t help but think about the way Reed dressed his songs up in surprising and hard hitting ways, which Barnett doesn’t.
That puts her more in the neighborhood of all those 90s alt-rock bands, who didn’t really alt that much while not really rocking that hard. Bands/artists who lived on the sharpness of their lyrics.
Noah Wall has spent some time at the Guitar Center, using hyperdirectional mics to record people trying out their instruments. I haven’t listened to all of it, but what I have listened to has beens surprisingly listenable in an ambient kind of way.
