a shirt with a picture of Ryan Gosling wearing a shirt with a picture of Macauley Culkin on it.
Culkin is in a band called Pizza Underground, which plays versions of Velvet Underground songs with the lyrics rewritten so they’re about pizza. Papa John Says, I’m Waiting (for a slice), you get the idea.
Here’s a video of their first show. I believe they served pizza to all in attendance.
But that’s old news (last December). Today this picture came out. Do I need to describe it? Funny.
This clip is notable for awkward pauses, not all of which are the result of having an English punk rocker singing country tunes for the country elite. But notable because the Englishman charms and the country guys embrace.
Okay, I got onto Love Hurts tonight because John Mahoney was in the movie of that name, which comes from a song the Everly Brothers made famous that was written by Boudleaux Bryant. I know the Everly’s version, which is iconic, but the one I know most is Gram Parson’s version.
Ten years ago there was a tribute concert to Gram Parsons. I don’t know where or why, at that time, but what I found tonight was this clip of Keef and Norah. She has a lovely voice and Keef seems to enjoy holding her close, but the impressive thing is his vocals, which aren’t particularly powerful but are nuanced and adept and show that he’s a good singer and having a gas, despite sporting a rather odd look.
Slowhand and Cray apparently wrote this tune together. It’s okay, but what wins here is Clapton’s look. He had so many, most of which weren’t as weird as this one.
Clapton also has a dueling guitars moment in this clip, during which he shreds Cray the way he did Robbie Robertson in The Last Waltz. Nevermind. Clapton is god, but he clearly knows that he stands on the shoulders of others. Whether that makes him a good guy or an asshole is up in the air.
What I know is I’m always glad to hear him play.
Pat Ivers and Emily Armstrong happened to have the excellent idea to shoot video of many performances at CBGB in the late 70s and early 80s, one of which is this performance of the Dead Boys.
Pat and Emily have been preserving their material, which is being archived at NYU, and through May and July will be showing the videos at the Museum of Arts and Design in New York.
They also maintained a blog for a while, with clips and good stories about the bands, which you can find here.
Many clips are hosted on Vimeo, under the name go nightclubbing.
Plus there are more clips and info at the gonightclubbing.com site.
See you in about year.
I never saw this before. Daniel is young, has the voice, bangs the guitar, encapsulates the moment, refers to his disease and escapes it in a strum.
Of course I am working, and streaming KTKE (still the best radio on earth in the best traditional listening to the radio sense) and The Band’s Chest Fever hit the airwaves.
The studio version is among my favorite songs by the iconic group, but I found this live version from Woodstock that is so good (too bad no real video).
Aside from the killer church organ intro, the group pushes this cranker forward in such a relaxed fashion, that it just flies by.
Really love the drums and Robbie Robertson is as good as they come on the guitar. Vastly under-rated.
Like late 19th-century English literature, I know far more about Roxy Music from those they’ve become or those they’ve influenced than their actual elpees. That’s because I’ve never owned a Roxy Music album (but I own plenty of Eno), and I’ve never read a Jane Austen novel (though I’ve seen plenty of the stories on a movie or television screen).
The last couple of days I’ve been playing the Essential greatest hits el=pee, which starts with the fantastic Re-Make/Re-Model and ends with a live and somewhat lachrymose version of Jealous Guy. In between is their first single, from 1972, the rollicking Virginia Plain, which seems to mash just about every style of rock under a Velvets’ kind of chug.
One thing about the core of us here at the Remnants is that we all became friends thanks to baseball: in particular fantasy baseball.
And, maybe there is something about how our respective and collective brains process, that makes it so that while we all do love baseball and games, there are a bunch of other things we all love, and are happy to discuss ad naseum.
Like music.
So, when our good buddy from Rotowire, Derek Van Riper, asked me if I was familiar with St. Paul & the Broken Bones, I had to plead ignorance, but that did not last too long.
I did a YouTube search, and found a song entitled Call Me, which was pretty good. It also reminded me so much of the late great wonderful Otis Redding, and his band the Barkays, who sadly died in a plane crash in December of 1967.
And, as I finished watching the Call Me video, what did I spot but a live cover of the band performing Redding’s wonderful I’ve Been Loving You (too Long to Stop Now).
Now, to be fair, my love of Redding and that song tracks back to a pair of vintage all time classic albums: Otis Redding Live in Europe, and Jimi Hendrix & Otis Redding Live at Monterey (which made my essential 50 albums list).
So, the fact that Paul Janeway (St. Paul) and his crew pretty deftly pull off their homage and sound is high praise. I mean, these guys really have the essence of the Stax/Volt sound down.
Here is the band covering Otis:
And, as a means of comparison, here is Otis and the Barkays at the peak of their form at the Monterey International Pop Music Festival, just about six months before they perished.
Otis is so good and cool, and his band is so tight that it is hard to imagine anyone even trying what St. Paul and mates did. They certainly get props from me. Thanks DVR!
Doc Pomus and Mort Schuman wrote this classic in 1960. It was originally recorded by Ben E. King and the Drifters in 1960.
Pomus had polio as a child and used crutches to get around until later in life, when he used a wheelchair. The irony of a man who can’t dance writing a song about watching his lover dance with another is powerful stuff, and Lou Reed has told the story that the lyric was inspired by Pomus’s wedding day, when he married a Broadway star and dancer, but could not dance his own wedding dance.
All of which would be way too much, except it’s true. And the song is not comfortably romantic. There is angst, lots of angst in there, too.
Which is what helps make Leonard Cohen’s closing time singalong with 14,000 Irish so touching. Oh, that and Leonard’s age. We’re all too freakin’ human.
