Donley was a songwriter and singer in New Orleans at rock ‘n’ roll’s dawning. He sold songs that became hits to Fats Domino and Jerry Lee Lewis. Alas, ironically, he is best remembered for his tune, Born To Be a Loser, which came out as a b-side in 1958.
For Night Music, his 1962 tune, Please Mr. Sandman is much better for taking us all to bed. Donley, alas, chased by demons and alcohol, took his life in 1963, leaving behind just two hands full of New Orleans rock ‘n’ roll/rockabilly sides to be remembered by.
I never got into Sleater Kinney, one of those most-revered-bands-in-the-world bands. But in their first incarnation, when they won lots of Pazz and Jop polls and were always on Top 10 lists, I tasted and I spit. Everyone was calling them America’s most essential rock band, or at least Greil Marcus was, but I wasn’t having it. For me the sound was always too fractured, the angles didn’t speak to me, and I have to admit that I gave up. They just weren’t working for me.
Which was a little funny because I’ve seen their drummer, Janet Weiss, play live as a member of Quasi a couple of times, and listened to Quasi’s many records a lot, and I would say (and have said) that she’s one of my favorite drummers. Even on Sleater Kinney songs I have liked listening to her. And I’ve found Carrie Brownstein to be a winning actor and fine writer on Portlandia. And (I know this from Wikipedia) Corin Tucker married a guy named Lance Bangs, in 2000, and they had a kid and named him Marshall Tucker Bangs! How cool is that?
Sleater Kinney broke up in 2006, in order to pursue solo projects, which they did, but got together again last year to make a new album. I saw them on David Letterman last week and, surprise, I didn’t much like the song, but I was kind of surprised how bouncy and rockish and leg kicking Carrie was, and the angular riffy song got me thinking about other rock grrl bands that chose layers of dissonance and angular rhythms and, when you listened closely, pretty-neat harmonies in the vocal, over straight rock pounding. Even when there was straight rock pounding. I’m thinking post-punk icons like the Delta 5, the Slits, the Raincoats, for three, all of whom I loved back in the day and still listen to, and wondered why Sleater Kinnney got stuck in my craw.
If you’re expecting an answer here, well, you’re going to have to wait, but in listening to songs by SK tonight I came across this one. The lyrics are a little schematic, but the sound isn’t angular, it’s as heartfelt as a folk song (if that folk song is Factory Girl) and just as angry as you might hope. With almost no drums—Janet plays harmonica!
This could be a demo for a song by the Bangles, but it’s also a really strong piece. I like it. (It’s from 2006.)
Chatmon played guitar and other instruments in Hollandale, Mississippi in the 1930s. He played with his brothers sometimes in a band called the Mississippi Sheiks, and may have been a songwriter, though the Mississippi Blues Trail is unclear about that.
He also picked cotton to make a living, and played in the clubs of Hollandale with many of the blues big names. He got a chance at a bigger stage during the folk and blues revival of the 1960s, and played festivals all over the country. I’m assuming that’s when this fun cut was recorded. There are some Alan Lomax recordings and films from 1978, too.
Friday night, and as I was making dinner (this time cayenne fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy) this great song from To Have and To Have Not jumped the synapses.
Directed by the equally great Howard Hawks (Bringing Up Baby, The Big Sleep, Red River, and Ball of Fire to name a few), with a screenplay by Ernest Hemmingway, To Have and To Have Not is in fact based upon a Hemmingway short story. But, rumor has it, there is very little in the film that has anything to do with the story.
Which doesn’t mean the film isn’t just great. It was Lauren Bacall’s and Humphrey Bogart’s first film together (in fact this was Bacall’s firgst film, period, and she was 19 at the time) and the chemistry is undeniable.
This is the film where Bacall suggestively tells Bogart he knows how to whistle (“you just put your lips together, and blow”).
The film also features Walter Brennan as a tookothless rummy sidekick named Eddie, and a joke of mixed-up names, for Bogart’s name is Harry Morgan, but Bacall always calls him Steve, while Bacall’s name is Marie Browning, but Bogart calls her Slim.
Anyway, the equally wonderful Hoagy Carmichael (as Cricket) plays throughout (remember, this is a 40’s movie, and music and song were part of the equation), including this cool number where he starts solo, and where Slide m helps him finish up.
Friend of the Remnants, WFMU dj Evan Davies, played this gem on his show this week. Here’s a link to the playlist of everything he played. Check it out, it’s always a great time.
As for DM3, they were an Australian powerpop band led by a guy named Dom Mariani. They made three albums in the mid 90s that I did not know, so hearing this today was kind of mindblowing. Shortly after its release, Mariani, who was more famous for his band the Stems, was inducted into the Western Australia Music Industry Hall of Renown.
The Hellacopters covered this one on their Head Off kiss off album of covers they thought we should all know about.
It’s very solid, paranoid and driving, but I’m excited because it has a crazy stanza (and a fine guitar solo):
We are everywhere
in the sign of the Octopus
It’s just a six-letter word
You can see it clearly now
But it is still obscured
And your vision will be blurred.
What is the six-letter word? Certainly not octopus.
The video that went along with Lawr’s post of Deportee spoke directly to the issue of the state of California keeping dust bowlers from Oklahoma, Texas and Arkansas out of their state. Bastards!
Woody Guthrie wrote a rollicking good song about that situation. I saw this band back in 1977 at the Bottom Line. They seem a little stiff, but professional, on the Old Grey Whistle Test, but they were rollicking in NYC when I saw them. It was a great show.
I’ve been listening to the Pink Fairies pretty constantly lately. They raise this really interesting question: Can I find a new favorite band from the early 70s when it’s now the mid teens? And will I be as enthusiastic when I put those Beatles and Hendrix sounds in the context of the timeline.
Blue Cheer pushes the line back a few years. Summertime Blues was a big hit, and is generally considered the birth of the Heavy Metal genre. But the interview with Dick Clark in this funny clip is notable for its directness. Plus, the words Heavy and Kashmir in the same interview, even before there was a Led Zeppelin. Far out.
I have a teenaged daughter. She has heard a lot of music around our house, and has carved her own path toward her likes and dislikes. But I note that tonight, she came into the kitchen singing this one, unprompted, maybe the most Simon and Garfunkle-ish song ever for the Fab Four.
