Dwight Yoakum is a strange case. He has a strong voice and always has a strong band and pushes his California Country sound in interesting directions. Teaming with Flaco was a smart idea. But Dwight’s strong voice is also a little soulless. He pushes ideas and manhandles inflection, and I find the heart to be hooded and a little bit mechanical.
Do you believe Dwight (with the hat) his strung out on heroin on the outskirts of town, falling deeper in love with Carmelita as he sweats and retches? I do not.
But Flaco’s accordion and the band here carry things quite nicely. But if you want to believe, check out Warren Zevon’s version. Or GG Allin’s.
Got what I think is the last CD with at least a few Hellas songs that I don’t have the other day, from Japan, the last of the Amazon Santa motherlode. There’s one song I still don’t have here and there, mostly on vinyl, but I don’t do vinyl anymore. It has several covers on it – my second choice would’ve been “Cold Night For Alligators” a Roky Erickson song if you’re into that. I give you this, an Otis Redding cover. Yes, the Otis Redding original is better, but a dope like me wouldn’t even know it were it not for the Hellacopters. Hopefully Peter can stand the vocals, which he says leave him limp as Rosie O’Donnell in a puddle of puke.
So, a fantastic actor died because of his need for drugs. That’s horrible for his kids and his family and everyone really, but he was a drug addict, a junkie. Every dose he took meant he was courting death in some way, creating potential horror for his kids and family and everyone really. While the outcome was tragic, it was also pretty much predictable and pathetic.
Lou Reed got the why of all this pretty much perfectly in this VU song. Using is fucked up, but what if it’s your wife?
PS. The video is fun to watch, from the Factory, but it messes with the song.
I had a friend who lived in Seattle who introduced me to the Sonics for real. There were minutes of pleasure, over and over, discovering the many sides of this garage band, which seemed to be way ahead of the times.
Actor Philip Seymour Hoffman, the chameleon of contemporary actors, was found dead Sunday, ostensibly the victim of a self-inflicted heroin overdose.
At age 46, this is a sad loss as Hoffman was just a great talent, so able to look and act differently depending upon the role.
Hoffman did win an Oscar for his role as writer Truman Capote in the 2005 film, Capote.
But, there are basically three films Hoffmans, I really loved, all three of which had great music floating around in a direct or indirect fashion.
Boogie Nights-Hoffman played the sexually confused Scotty J, a sort of Gaffer in the world of porn film: an insecure nerd who has somehow stumbled into the dream world of the repressed voyeur.
The Big Lebowski-This time Hoffman plays Brandt, instead of a Gaffer, he is a gopher for David Huddleston’s other Lebowski, a wonderfully restrained brown-noser. My favorite line of Hoffman’s is “Well Dude, we just don’t know.”
Almost Famous-My favorite of Hoffman’s roles, as he plays the great–and also sadly late and nihlistic–rock critic Lester Bangs. Bangs, who penned the iconic definitive rock critique book Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung, died of alcohol and drug abuse, and now Hoffman has followed.
I was driving up to Davis to pick up Lindsay who was spending Super Bowl Weekend with us (she is a huge Red Hot Chili Peppers fan), listening to my shuffle on the way, when Roxy Music’s More Than This came popping through the speakers.
More Than This is a lovely song, and I am a big Roxy fan, though apparently not as devoted as my mate Gene.
But, as I was thinking about Roxy, my thoughts went to the 1976 spin-off fostered by Phil Manzanera and Brian Eno, 801.
Backed by the stellar bass of Bill MacCormick and equally deadly drums of Simon Phillips (with additional keys by Francis Monkman), 801 lived long enough to produce a live disc (from which this version is culled) 801 Live along with a studio piece, Listen Now.
I did buy both LPs, but the thing I remember is the first time I heard TNK.
It was Christmas Eve, 1977, and I had a sort of girlfriend, Cathy Fabun, with whom I went to hang with (along with her friends) the early part of that night.
We were all sitting around talking, and getting stoned on some Maui Wowie, which was primo stuff at the time. $50 a quarter of an ounce, which was an unheard amount.
Eventually, I had to go back home as my roommates had stuff planned for the holiday.
In those days, I had one of those little mid-engine Porsche 914’s, so it was like a little spaceship, and instead of taking the main interstate home, I chose to drive on Frontage Road, in Albany and Berkeley, which hugs the bay, and gives a great view of the bridges, San Francisco all the way across the Golden Gate to Marin.
Since it was a nice clear night, you could see every light, and I had the stereo in the Porsche blasting to KSAN, the first free format FM station in the world, and one that at the time was still playing DJ’s choice.
So, on came TNK with no verbal introduction, nice and spacey with Eno leading things off, then MacCormick falling in behind, then the drums, and then Manzanera adding this rugged rhythm chords, and finally things are cranking full tilt.
This first time, I heard the vocals, and the words, and I kept asking myself, “I know this song, what is it?” till it finally came.
As soon as the record store was open (remember, the next day was Christmas) and I bought 801 Live and it has remained a top five live album of mine over the years.
So, on a finally rainy morning (53 days without rain, making it the first January in recorded history with no rain in Northern California till today), a Super Bowl Day when I am having fun cooking for the feast later, here is just a fabulous cut, live or not, cover or not.
Did anyone notice that it was Paul Williams that gave the acceptance speech for Daft Punk when the helmeted duo won the Grammy for Album of the Year? Williams, whose earlier career was derailed from alcohol abuse, hit the bull’s-eye with his comment “Back when I was drinking, I would imagine things that weren’t there and I’d get frightened. Then I got sober and two robots called and asked me to make an album.”
We oldsters all remember who Paul Williams is. But for the benefit of those of you under 50 I’ll let you in on his career highlights.
Williams was a very successful song writer in the 70s. His greatest success came with the two big hits he composed for the Carpenters – “We’ve Only Just Begun” and “Rainy Days and Mondays” (co-written with his partner Roger Nichols). He had another major triumph with “Evergreen,” a #1 hit from the Barbra Streisand movie A Star is Born which won him a Grammy. He also penned songs for Three Dog Night (“Old Fashioned Love Song”) and others. David Bowie recorded one of his songs (“Fill Your Heart”) on the album Hunky Dory. Williams also wrote the theme song for The Love Boat TV show and Kermit the Frog’s “Rainbow Connection” for The Muppet Movie.
But few who recall his background know that earlier Williams recorded with a pop/psych band called The Holy Mackerel. I have a (white label promo) copy of the 1968 album and at least one side isn’t half bad.
The SotW is “Scorpio Red.”
“Scorpio Red” is an astrology themed, cautionary tale about a “red headed lady” that “will not be tamed.” It contains all of the trappings of late 60s psych/pop rock – Eastern influenced chords, ringing guitars, reverb and group harmony.
Another song on the album worth hearing (though not written by Williams) is “Wildflowers.”
This could be the East/West hybrid sound George Harrison was shooting for on “Within You Without You.” Or maybe not.
Roll it back to early 70s. My favorite bands were Commander Cody and his Lost Planet Airmen, the New York Dolls, the Rolling Stones, the Allman Brothers. Something of a mess, but lots of great music.
Commander Cody and the Airmen were my home group. I saw them many times, they played smallish clubs, and I was devoted to them.
What’s the matter Now is less novelty and more straightforward than much CC. But what I liked about them was the way they played straight rock ‘n’ roll (great version of 20 Flight Rock) and corny old timey country (Family Bible) and stoner classics (Down to Seeds and Stems Again Blues), all with nothing in mind but fun.
This is a fabulous song that is about religion and faith, and all the richer because the Ur punk Hell is covering the Ur hippie band Credence Clearwater Revival.
What you need to know? Catchy as heck. With meaning. And a great guitar solo.
This is another song I can remember hearing the first time, though there really isn’t a story attached. But in those days buying an album, almost always at a tiny story on Second Avenue just south of Eighth Street, on the west side of the street, was an act of faith. I was working lots of hours to pay for school, and actually closing the deal on some vinyl was a little like sacrament.
I don’t know that anyone listens to The Blank Generation album today with anything more than academic interest, which is probably right. I don’t recall thinking that this was music for the ages, but I do remember the intense pleasure that came from Love Comes in Spurts and Down at the Rock and Roll CLub and Walking on the Water. And really every cut on the album was, if not perfect, it represented the imagined perfection of the time.
And at that point we were getting close to the end of the time when any of us would think that one good thought might solve all of us.
