In the dark days of 1980s music, there were some real gems. One of those is Robert Cray, a blues guitarist who embraced a producer and songwriting team that set his skills and persona into a kind of Memphis soul vibe. I saw them live a few times, bought all the albums, and was a huge fan.
When you hear this one you will be, too.
But clearly the sound is too smooth. And clearly young Bob didn’t wear the skin of strong persuader eagerly. A lot of the success of those early albums can be pinned on Richard Cousins, the bass player/songwriter, and Richard Walker, the producer.
Which isn’t to denigrate young Bob’s talent. But he seems too nice a guy to get ahead in this business. That isn’t an attribute, but it does help explain a bit about his career. None the less, he can play.
Inserra say he was hurt on the job as a Port Authority cop a couple of years ago. He spent time on disability leave, drawing his $90K salary and $30K of disability payments, even after he was healthy. Even after he went touring with his hardcore band, Cousin Sleaze, during which, the judge said, “you repeatedly gripped the microphone and jumped around the stage while flailing your right arm in a rapid back-and-forth motion.”
The NY Post has the whole story about Inserra’s guilty plea. Enjoy the video, which was shot in my neighborhood in Brooklyn and doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.
What I just found out is that the first song the Stones played at their July 5, 1969 free concert in Hyde Park was a cover of the same Johnny Winter song I posted about last night. The original reason for the show was to introduce Mick Taylor as the band’s newest member, but Brian Jones died two days before, and the concert became something of a send off memorial for him. It seems his favorite song at the time was this Johnny Winter tune.
It’s totally fitting that the song shows just how tough a guitar player Mick Taylor was, and serves as a precursor to his fantastic work throughout the Stones’ Golden Years. May Brian Jones roll over, and tell Ronnie Woods the news.
My memory is there was a lot of hoopla when Johnny Winter’s eponymous elpee was released in 1969. I think he had signed a big contract and of course there was the whole albino thing, but what I remember most was falling in love with the sound of Winter’s guitar playing and voice, and the variety of arrangements on the record, jumping from Chicago to the Delta to Texas and back north again. I didn’t know that much about the blues then, but this was a revival record that satisfied in a wholly American and authentic way.
As I learned more, listening to more of the original players, I came to admire this record even more. There was nothing wrong with the Yardbirds and John Mayall, the Stones and Led Zeppelin, nothing wrong at all, but they sounded mediated in a way that this record doesn’t.
And on an autobiographical note, there was the morning when a gang of housepainters were working out in the hallway when I woke up. College kids from Stony Brook University, which was nearby. painting our house. I woke up and hit the play button on my stereo and the first bits of this tune growled out, and the boys raved. There was nothing cooler for an eighth grader to have a bunch of college kids digging your style.
As Winter moved to more popular stuff, along with his brother, I lost touch with Johnny and Edgar except on pop radio. But this record did the trick, from start to finish, getting me into the Blues for real
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.
Frankly, any discussion of The Shaggs must begin with My Pal Foot Foot which you’ll find on many “Worst Song Of All-Time” lists. I love this video version, actually one of my very favorite music videos period:
By the way, that creature running around is Foot Foot, drawn by one of the girls as part of the album art. We always assumed it’s supposed to be a cat.
The first Shaggs album is like nothing else. It adheres to very, very few musical conventions. It’s truly its own thing. I don’t know if these girls’ parents kept them trapped in a closet or what, but what they invented is a different animal (Foot Foot?).
I’ve often thought of how difficult it would be to cover one of these songs in a band – not a new rendition – but attempting to copy The Shaggs note-for-note, rhythm for rhythm. I suspect it would be next to impossible.
However, these girls know what they’re doing in their own little world of their own little invention. They clearly rehearsed these songs before recording them in their dad’s studio. There are stops, starts, planned part patterns in the songs, background vocals, etc. But just concentrate on the drum part in Foot Foot to get a flavor of how crazy this invention is. The drummer executes this strange combination of snare drum, clicking on the side of the drum and cymbals. It’s other-worldly.
The more The Shaggs progressed (they made at least two more albums, I believe), the more musical conventions crept in, making initial listenings more tolerable, but never quite capturing that insane “something” on the first album.
As for other renditions, I own a fairly obscure Shaggs tribute album called Better Than The Beatles: A Tribute To The Shaggs. Most of it adds at least a little bit of traditional musicality to the Shaggs’ own world and some turns out pretty good. I noticed today that now-somewhat-mainstream Deerhoof actually does the Foot Foot cover. Back when I bought the album years ago, Deerhoof wasn’t any more recognizable to me than the other bands.
I’ll leave you with Philosophy Of The World by Ida. Lawr often uses the term “haunting.” I think this is pretty haunting and the lyrics are actually quite profound.
Shonen Knife dig Redd Kross, which led me to this bit of fun.
This Carpenters song, which is treacle, turns into this Redd Kross rock mockup of the Carpenters, and both make sense! And both are terrible. Here’s the Carpenters.
Little Joe Cook died this week at the age of 91. Cook had one Top 40 hit with the doo-wop influenced “Peanuts” in 1957. You can read his full obit here:
So why would I take the time to write an extra SotW for an old guy from the ‘50s that is barely a footnote in rock and roll history? Quite simply, because he was ours.
You see back in the 1980s BC (before children) my friends and I used to frequent the Cantab Lounge in Cambridge, MA where Little Joe held a long residency. He could bring together the entire community – old and young, black and white, rich and poor, preppy and punk, townies and tourists – like no other performer.
He would play “Peanuts” several times a night and the crowd loved it.
He would work the crowd to get everyone “cookin” on the dance floor. It could be a zero degree, February night but it would be 100 in the Cantab. We would walk out of the club into the cold so drenched in sweat that you hair would freeze on your head.
Inside the Cantab it sounded like this:
So rest in peace, Little Joe. You touched a million lives.
