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Although Mary Tyler Moore doesn’t conjure up images of rock and roll for most people, she certainly has inspired it in some.
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For instance, take this cover version of the MTM Show theme song — “Love Is All Around” — covered by the Minneapolis based punk band Husker Du.
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And who could forget the reference to MTM in Weezer’s power pop classic “Buddy Holly?”
Pete “Overend” Watts, bassist for Mott The Hoople, has died at 69 of throat cancer. There are several important Motts still left (I’ve heard Ian Hunter’s latest is really good and I plan to get it), but this makes two down as drummer Buffin died a year or two ago.
I didn’t see Mott The Hoople, just Mott a little later, but Overend was certainly the rock ‘n’ roll shit, strutting around with his seven-inch heel boots and hairstyle you’d probably know better as Johnny Ramone’s.
MTH meant and still means a lot to me. My first taste came from an 8-track of The Hoople that I bought off a kid I worked with at Dorney Park in the summer of 1976 for a couple bucks. It’s one of my all-time faves, making both my top 50 when we did those lists a couple years ago and my Teen list last week. In usual backwards style, I first got into the last-gasp Hoople, with Ariel Bender on guitar, then “progressed” to Mott (probably because they existed) and then went back years later to catch up on the also-excellent earlier Mick Ralphs stuff. Maybe it’s due to the order I learned it, and surely it’s Dave Marsh heresy, but I always preferred Bender’s more over the top guitar style to Ralphs’ subtlety. It’s all good.
Before someone posts one of the obligatories, I’ll give you Pearl ‘N’ Roy, from The Hoople, maybe my favorite track on one of my favorite albums, arguably my favorite Mott song of all. Particularly love the sad, wailing guitar solo as the song fades.
RIP Overend!!!
When I moved to New York late in 1976 punk was breaking. Patti Smith’s Horses was already out, and the club scene was lively and exciting. New records, new great records seemed to come out every day, and the music press, the Voice, the Soho News, NME and others were crazy with coverage and analysis of the vibrant music and the scene that came with it. It was an astonishing time to be in New York, a city that was bankrupt and dangerous and eating itself from within, but also reinventing the world.
While the punk scene was centered in the East Village, and I visited all those clubs there, I somehow ended up hanging out in the Village itself, mostly at Gerdes Folk City on West Fourth Street, and Kenny’s Castaways on Bleecker Street. There the music was also hot, artists were being signed, but it was a singer-songwriter scene that was evolving, birthing a new generation of folkies, these far less interested in folk songs per se and far more interested in songwriting and confession and reflections on the quotidian and how life is lived by everyone and themselves.
I would have to do a little research to find a list of names of performers from that scene, some of whom I’m sure got a little famous and some of whom did not, but the two acts I admired most and saw many times were Steve Forbert and the Roches. Forbert wrote aching songs and sang with an aching voice, but the result wasn’t morose. His honesty and clever melodies are compelling and enduring, at least from his first two elpees, and it was hearing him live on the radio play a rocking careering version of Telstar on his acoustic that helped me develop the idea that the rock ‘n’ roll spirit isn’t just about volume and drive, but also about an honest and straightforward accounting of whatever you’re doing in song.
Which brings us to the Roches. The three sisters were delightful, funny, vivacious, and clever. They lit up the stage as presences, even Maggie the shy one, and lit up the room with their clever and lovely and surprising harmonies. We is their far too cute origin song.
As Tom recounts below, their first album as a threesome was produced by Robert Fripp, the famed progressive and experimental rock guitarist. The result is a spare and resonant sound, full of room without obvious reverb. Pretty and High was a song by Maggie, it closes the album with surreal drama and poetry and a clanging guitar. Play it loud, as if it rocked.
I just learned Maggie Roche, of the Roche Sisters, died yesterday after a battle with breast cancer. I’d like to pay tribute to her by resubmitting a SotW article I originally posted on December 4, 2010.
Ignored Obscured Restored
When I got my first career job out of college (1978, ouch!) the first priority I made for my new found “wealth” was to buy a hi-fidelity stereo system. Beside the money I had to set aside for rent, utilities, and a little for food and drinking – EVERYTHING else was squirreled away for that first big purchase. About nine months later I had $750 set aside for a stereo. (That’s the equivalent of about $2,200 in today’s money.)
I went out to the Tech Hi-Fi store on Commonwealth Ave in Boston (near BU) and bought an Onkyo receiver, Dual turntable and a set of Infinity Qb speakers. I loved those speakers and they’re still being put to good use at my cousin’s beach house in Florida.
My roommate Jimmy D had a pair of the same speakers, so we set them up in the four corners of our listening room in a faux “surround sound” setup. I can still remember lying on the floor listening to pure sound of certain vinyl records that we loved.
One of my favorite cuts to listen to this way was “The Hammond Song” by The Roches. Their self titled, 1979 album was beautifully recorded in warm, analog sound. It was produced in “audio verite” by Robert Fripp (King Crimson) which in this context means recorded “as is”, substantially without alteration or addition. The Roches wonderful three part harmonies are the focal point of the recordings. They have minimal instrumentation although Fripp provides a very tasteful guitar solo in the middle of “The Hammond Song.”
The lyrics are a bit obtuse abstruse but seem to tell the story of a woman that plans to visit her boyfriend, told from the point of view of her disapproving family.
If you go down to Hammond
you’ll never come back
In my opinion you’re
on the wrong track
We’ll always love you but
that’s not the point
If you go with that fella
forget about us
As far as I’m concerned
that would be just
throwing yourself away
not even trying
Come on you’re lying to me
The dynamics of the Roche’s vocal harmonies ebb and flow to capture the emotional apprehension of the story.
Enjoy… until next week.
After this was posted one of my readers, Tom V., responded with further commentary that adds more insight into my original post so I’ve included it below.
“I’m a couple weeks behind in my SOW observances, so this one caught me by surprise.
Hearing The Roches for the first time at a party somewhere outside Atlantic City, I thought it was the dawn of a new era in songwriting. The words were so organic and conversational and musical all at the same time. “Mr. Sellack” is inspired. The way they leave syllables hanging, then resolve them in a way that should be bad lyric-writing but turns out to be genius. In subsequent work, even they didn’t live up to what I thought was happening that night.
But to the matter at hand, I’m convinced The Hammond Song is an appeal to a younger sister’s better instincts. She’s not visiting, she’s moving in. Moving away to be with him. She’s about to pass up higher education to follow some fella, (quitting school or not getting her masters, who knows)?
“That would be throwing yourself away, not even trying. Come on, you’re lying to me.”
And the lying part is her sisters knowing she’s bullshitting when she says she “really wasn’t all that excited about school in the first place” and how “there’s lots more opportunities in Hammond than you’d think,” and “he’s got a really terrific opportunity there” and on and on.
It just occurred to me that in some ways they were the musical children of J.D. Salinger.
And you’re right, I love the sound of this recording. Never a big Fripp fan, I love him for bringing us this.
Good one, cuz.”
IGNORED OBSCURED RESTORED
A few weeks ago I heard from one of my many second cousins. She remembered that I am a vinyl record collector and wanted to know if I would like the collection that came from the home she grew up in. She even went to the trouble of hand writing out information about each disc (artist, title, label, and even condition!) and sent the list to me.
The collection included several hundred records, many of which were mid to late 60s rock. Everything from The Lovin’ Spoonful to Jimi Hendrix. But the one record I can’t wait to get my hands on is Introducing the Beau Brummels. That’s their Sly Stone produced, 1965 debut that featured their two biggest hits – “Laugh, Laugh” and “Just a Little.”
These are two perfect, British Invasion influenced pop songs. The buying public agreed, pushing “Laugh, Laugh” to #15 and “Just a Little” to #8 on the Billboard Hot 100.
Both songs follow a similar formula – minor key chords, chiming electric guitars, interesting harmonies and prominent use of harmonica (in “Laugh, Laugh”). These all turned out to be hallmarks of the burgeoning folk rock movement led by The Byrds, Mamas and Papas, and others.
Baby boomers might get a chuckle from this Flintstone’s episode where the “Beau Brummelstones” perform “Laugh, Laugh” on Shinrock! (Shindig!) to a lot of groovy dancing.
Salon founder and author David Talbot’s fine modern history of San Francisco, Season of the Witch, contains a playlist of “The Best Songs Recorded by San Francisco Bands, 1965-1985.” Both of today’s SotW are on it!
Enjoy… until next week.
Not to be a pain in the ass – meaning I have every intention of being a pain in the ass – but I think “albums that lasted with you” is bullshit. Just another invitation to pat ourselves on the back. I’m more interested in the albums we actually listened to. I’ll tell you what I listened to most, to the best of my recollection, from ages 13-19. The years were 1968-1975.
I didn’t have many albums until 1969. No money. But I started working that summer and from 1969-1974 I probably bought 500 albums. That’s a lot of listening that must be left behind in choosing one or two records per year. But I’m going to try to pick the 10 albums I listened to the most. Most I still love and the rest I still at least like.
1968 – Their Satanic Majesties Request, because I had it. I only had about 10 albums and that was the newest and I really liked it, except I would often lift the needle and skip the jam parts. Closest rival would be Revolver, which I got for Christmas the year before.
1969 – Led Zep II. Very close call, could just as easily be Let It Bleed. I’ve blown hot and cold on Zep over the years, the cold mainly because FM radio for years insisted on playing many of their lesser songs over and over. Even now I think II is by far their best album, though all their albums have good songs. For all the criticism of them ripping off blues songs, they certainly aimed high with Sonny Boy’s Bring it on Home and with Killing Floor (The Lemon Song). And they did put their stamp on those songs. Furthermore, their best blues song, When The Levee Breaks, is as good as any old blues masterpiece, and I say that as a true lover of old blues masterpieces.
1970 – Mountain/Climbing in a very close call over Ten Years After’s Cricklewood Green. Teen hard rock. Damn right I had Funhouse, which most if not all my friends mocked, but I listened to Mountain more. The best of this record, not the raga guitar solo, has stood up well. You don’t hear this one much but damn I smile when I hear Leslie West whale.
1971 – I have to do two albums this year: Layla and The J Geils Band first album. I still remember the first time I ever heard the opening riff to Layla, and rushed out to buy it the next day. Like a lot of my favorite records it’s really dense with guitar tracks, and to this day I catch new little subleties of interplay between Clapton and Duane Allman. Speaking of Duane Allman, Live at the Fillmore got a lot of play in my ears this year, so did Who’s Next and Live at Leeds, not to mention Alice Cooper Love it to Death, but not as much as the eponymous J Geils Band. This is the shit:
1972 – A transistion year. Many great soul singles this year, but for the most part soul artists did not make great albums. Backstabbers, Cleanup Woman, Freddie’s Dead and Superfly, Sly’s If You Want Me To Stay, I’ll Take You There, Slippin Into Darkness, Get on the Good Foot – super funky shit but no great album attached. At this time we started hearing Glam from England, I loved Bang a Gong but didn’t get the album until later, but we did get way into Slade around this time. So this year’s album is Slayed? The real winner is Exile on Main St but that is forbidden me – an album that I didn’t much like when I first heard it although I loved the first single Tumbling Dice. I kept listening to it because of course I liked some of the songs, and one night listening to Let It Loose it hit me: not only is this good, it’s the best thing the Stones have ever done. Another dense mix that couldn’t be any other way. There are a lot of instruments and they should all be heard.
1973 – No contest, New York Dolls. I had been waiting all my life for the New York Dolls. I don’t know how many copies of this album I’ve owned over the years, certainly ten. I lost half my friends over the New York Dolls and good riddance. This is one album that sounds every bit as good today, or better. Every song is great, and it might boast the best rocknroll lyrics in one place ever. Todd Rundgren caught a lot of shit for his production, but history vindicates him in spades. Not their most known song but one of their best:
1974 – I’m not allowed to pick the Dolls’ Too Much Too Soon even though it’s the hands-down winner, but 1974 was a big Roxy Music year for me too. Sometimes my tastes swing from primitive to sophisticated, and Roxy could always do both. Their first five albums are up there with anybody’s as a body of work. In many ways Country Life is my favorite, and again the sound is dense but so worth penetrating:
1975 – I was on the road for most of the first half of this year, hitching across the country, and when I got back to New York in May I didn’t have any albums or a stereo. I moved to a 4th floor walkup on 11th St between 1st and A and played a lot of guitar. The bands I was listening to at this time hadn’t made any records yet. At the end of the year Patti Smith made her debut but I was not a fan. So there’s not a lot to choose from. Roxy’s Siren and Stones’ out-take album Metamorphosis aren’t allowed, so the album I listened to the most was probably Earth, Wind and Fire’s That’s the Way of the World. I spent a week in upstate New York and there were I think three albums to choose from.
I was born in ’56 so I’m limited to albums from ’69 to ’75.
So I’ll start with the end of the line…
1. Born to Run – Bruce Springsteen
“Thunder Road” is one of the greatest openers on any album… EVAH! “The screen door slams: Mary’s dress waves…”
And “Jungleland” is an equally great closer. “And they wind up wounded, not even dead.”
And everything in between is pretty damn good too.
2.Sticky Fingers – Rolling Stones
Most critics rate Exile higher, but I’m a Sticky Fingers fan. Great rockers (“Brown Sugar”, “Bitch”), blues (“You Gotta Move”), ballads (“Wild Horses”) and one of the greatest jams (“Can’t You Hear Me Knocking”). Mick Taylor on guitar and Bobby Keys on sax make significant contributions to compliment the original Stones band members.
3. Green River – Creedence Clearwater Revival
Hits (“Green River”, “Bad Moon Rising”) and deep cuts (“Lodi”). Gotta love it!
4. Blue – Joni Mitchell
There’s been enough discussion about this album on this blog to fill a book! And maybe I have to hand in my man card to defend it again here and now. This album is effin awesome; Joni at her best. “I want to knit her a sweater and write her a love letter{ to thank her for the one she gave to us.
5. John Barleycorn Must Die – Traffic
An outstanding mix of jazzy numbers like “Empty Pages” and “Glad” with British folk (“John Barleycorn…”). The musicianship is virtuoso and Steve Winwood is in superb voice.
6. Horses – Patti Smith
This album changed me! Everthing about it touched my soul. From the Mapplethorp cover photo to the cover of Gloria (“Jesus died for someone’s sins but not mine”) to the reggae influenced “Redondo Beach” and more. Tom Verlaine spooky guitar on “Break it Up” is amazing, as is the poetic orgasm of “Land.” It still holds up today.
7. Innervisions – Stevie Wonder
In the 70s, Stevie Wonder put out a run of sequential, perfect albums that I’m not sure any artist could match — even my beloved Beatles.
Starting with Music of My Mind, Talking Book, Innervisions, Fulfillingness’ First Finale and Songs in the Key of Life.
My favorite is Innervisions. It opens with the irresistibly funky “Too High” and skips through the guitar focused “Visions” and a few radio hits (“Living For the City”, “Higher Ground”, “Don’t You Worry ‘Bout a Thing”). Perfect!!!
8. Can’t But a Thrill – Steely Dan
I heard “Do it Again” on the radio and loved it. Next I heard “Reeling in the Years” and loved that too. They sounded so different to me that I was shocked to learn it was the same band. That ability to play in different genres motivated me to go out and buy Can’t Buy a Thrill. I wasn’t disappointed with the rest of the album and became a loyal Dan Fan.
9. Sail Away – Randy Newman
When my older brother was in college (and I in high school) he brought home a copy of Randy Newman Live. To me it sounded like a bootleg album although it really was an official Reprise release. A few months later I learned that Newman was performing at SUNY New Paltz which was jst 10 miles north of my hometown. I bought tickets and went to the show.
Soon after, Sail away found its way into my record collection. I loved the social commentary of “Sail Away” and “Political Science” and the children’s tale of “Simon Smith and the Amazing Dancing Bear.”
Then there’s the timeless “You Can Leave Your Hat On.” So good!
10. Blood on the Tracks –
I was late to grasping the importance of Bob Dylan. Blood on the Tracks was my baptism and the launching point for my re-discovery of his earlier work.
The emotional impact of songs like “Shelter From the Storm”, “Tangled Up In Blue” and “Idiot Wind” was irresistible.
My ADD made it impossible to follow the entire story of the 9 minute “Lily, Rosemary and the Jack of Hearts.” I’m not sure I ever got there but I loved the challenge.
So there you go. Have at it!
Peter put up a great post here, and Steve responded with a cool list. I am, I believe, the oldest (Steve is still the most curmudgeonly, though) so my teen years halt at 1972 meaning Brit Pop and Psychedelia ruled my adolescene.
My list:
The President Elect has selected his theme song for the big day, an old chestnut first made famous by Frank Sinatra, whose daughter Nancy thinks would not have supported Donald Trump.”Just remember the first line of the song,” Nancy Sinatra tweeted on Wednesday (Jan. 18) in response to a fan’s question about whether the family was okay with the Trumps dancing to the song at Friday night’s (Jan. 20) Liberty Ball. “And now, the end is near.”
Here it is:
Yes, it’s an internet thing. The prompt goes like this, and is irresistible: List 10 albums that made a lasting impression on you as a TEENAGER, but only one per band/artist. Don’t take too long and don’t think too long.
I turned mine in last week, before I knew it was a thing. I made two mistakes in my first pass, listed two elpees that hit when I was 12, though I suppose maybe I wouldn’t have gotten into them until the next year. Hard to know.
List 10 albums that made a lasting impression on you as a TEENAGER, but only one per band/artist. Don’t take too long and don’t think too long.
1. Commander Cody and his Lost Planet Airmen – Lost in the Ozone
2. Rolling Stones – Exile on Main Street
3. Allman Brothers – Live at Fillmore East
4. The Who – Who’s Next
5. Stevie Wonder – Innervisions
6. Johnny Winter – Johnny Winter
7. New York Dolls – New York Dolls
8. Jethro Tull – Benefit
9. Paul Kantner – Blows Against the Empire
10. Kool and the Gang – Wild and Peaceful
Originally had Cream’s Disraeli Gears and Blood Sweat and Tear’s Child is the Father to the Man, but they were released before I was a teen. As I type this I realize that Blind Faith should be on, but I don’t know what to bump. I’ve written about all of these here before, except Benefit. And I’ve seen all these bands live, too, which may explain some of the attachment, except Jethro Tull. I once saw Commander Cody open for Jefferson Starship in Santa Monica. Weird show.
One odd thing to note is that I’m older than most everyone who made lists I’ve read. I turned 20 before punk broke or new wave hit. Feel free to add your list in the comments. In the meantime.
