3 Man Band of the Week – RUSH

Lovable Rush

You either love Rush or hate Rush.  There is no middle ground.  Nor would I ever attempt to convert a Rush-hater.  But for better or for Rush, here’s the three-man band of the week.

A copy of Rush’s Moving Pictures somehow found its way into my records as a child, but I don’t remember listening to it or paying it much attention.  However, by 11 I was a Rush convert.

The father of one of the girls I grew up with – Gin Marie – was a drummer in a band that never got any further than the bars around town, despite the fact that they were better (at least when they were sober) than many of the bands you hear on the radio.  Needless to say, there was always music at Gin Marie’s house, and lots of it.  I owe much of my taste to Gin Marie’s dad, Red.

So anyway, my mother dropped me off at Gin Marie’s house one snowy Friday night, and when I opened the door, all I could hear coming out of Red’s huge speakers was “Tom Sawyer.” Red was airdrumming with his hero, Neil Peart, and I was transfixed.  This was an enormous sound, one that literally filled the house, yet still managed to be exact; you could hear each crack of the cymbals, each note of the bass.  I ran over to Red and pulled his sleeve and said, “what IS that?”

Red was a mad Rush fan, so needless to say I got about an hour and half sermon on the mount about the wonders of Rush.  About how Neil Peart was the best drummer on earth AND the best lyricist, and how Geddy Lee had one of the best ranges in rock, and Alex Lifeson was a genius.  Well, I was sold.  When I went home, I got out my copy of Moving Pictures and listened to the whole thing at least three times in a row.

From that first experience with “Tom Sawyer,” I loved the intricacy of Rush, from the music to the lyrics.  Sad to say, I am the only person I know other than Red who feels this way.  But for the rest of you Rush lovers out there, here are a few of my favorites…

I’m only posting two songs, and both are from Permanent Waves, which after discovering Rush, was even more appealing to me than the later Moving Pictures.  Besides, if you are a true Rush fan, you know that there’s little left that hasn’t been said about Moving Pictures.

Spirit of the Radio:

One of my dreams as a child was to be a radio DJ.  I got to do this for awhile in college, so I can check this off my list.  Anyway, this song sums up how I always felt about radio, how pervasive it was in my entire life.  Okay, I can’t stand it anymore, I’m just going to post the lyrics:

Begin the day
With a friendly voice
A companion, unobtrusive
Plays that song thats so elusive
And the magic music makes your morning mood

Off on your way
Hit the open road
There is magic at your fingers
For the spirit ever lingers
Undemanding contact
In your happy solitude

Invisible airwaves
Crackle with life
Bright antennae bristle
With the energy
Emotional feedback
On a timeless wavelength
Bearing a gift beyond price —
Almost free…

All this machinery
Making modern music
Can still be open-hearted
Not so coldly charted
Its really just a question
Of your honesty

One likes to believe
In the freedom of music
But glittering prizes
And endless compromises
Shatter the illusion
Of integrity

For the words of the profits
Are written on the studio wall,
Concert hall —
Echoes with the sounds…
Of salesmen.

So maybe it’s about how something as wonderful as radio is corruptible.  It’s still an awesome song, and I give you this as evidence: how many song lyrics have you seen that are as literate as these?  You can read this song and it’s like poetry.  Notice the alliteration in the lines, the careful choice of words. Put that with music that ROCKS and you have perfection, people.

Freewill:

Again, I’ll just have to post the lyrics:

There are those who think that life
Has nothing left to chance
With a host of holy horrors
To direct our aimless dance

A planet of playthings
We dance on the strings
Of powers we cannot perceive
The stars aren’t aligned —
Nor the gods are malign
Blame is better to give than receive

You can choose a ready guide
In some celestial voice
If you choose not to decide
You still have made a choice

You can choose from phantom fears
And kindness that can kill
I will choose a path that’s clear
I will choose freewill

There are those who think that they’ve been dealt a losing hand
The cards were stacked against them —
They weren’t born in lotus-land

All preordained
A prisoner in chains
A victim of venomous fate
Kicked in the face
You cant pray for a place
In heavens unearthly estate

Each of us
A cell of awareness
Imperfect and incomplete
Genetic blends
With uncertain ends
On a fortune hunt
That’s far too fleet…

Again, you have lyrics so literate that they ALMOST read as poetry.  While “Freewill” is not as perfect lyrically as “Spirit,” it’s still head and shoulders above most other rock lyrics of that or any other time.  I think that’s what I like best about Rush best – while you are headbanging, you have something profound to think about.

When I was in college, I was in an advanced English class where I had to keep a journal that discussed the readings and topics we covered in the class. I don’t remember the subject, but my response was to write parts of the lyrics from this song.  My bemused prof only gave me partial credit.  Hater.

And just so you know, Rush has been the subject of a Congressional debate.  This from that torchbearer of journalism, The Onion:

Congress Debates Coolness Of Rush

WASHINGTON, DC–Continuing its long-running debate on the subject Monday, members of Congress argued the merits of Canadian power trio Rush. “‘The philosopher and the plowman, each must play his part’?” asked House Majority Leader Dick Armey (R-TX). “C’mon. Neil Peart must be the most pretentious lyricist in arena-rock history. Gentlemen, forget these bloated, overrated ’70s dinosaurs.” Countered longtime Rush loyalist Rep. Peter DeFazio (D-OR): “Keep talking, man, the tunes say it all: ‘Passage To Bangkok’? ‘By-Tor And The Snow Dog’? That part in ‘Red Barchetta’ where [Rush bassist/vocalist] Geddy [Lee] sings about the gleaming alloy aircar shooting toward him two lanes wide? Look me in the eye and tell me that doesn’t rock, motherfucker!” The deliberations are expected to continue throughout the week.

Ruby, the Metal Years

Dude!

I was feeling rather poorly last weekend, so I piled up on the couch and proceeded to watch all four-plus hours of The Metal Years on VH1 Classic.  While I did not agree with the documentary editorially – Megadeth was slighted, Deep Purple was left out altogether; “Smoke on the Water,” anyone? – it was a rousing trip down memory lane.  You see, as a young girl, Ruby was an unrepentant metalhead, and this was liking looking at your high school yearbook, only less traumatic.

I’m not sure how I came to embrace metal, but I’m sure it had something to do with my young appetite for Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple.  At any rate, by 13 I spent most of my time holed up in my room listening to Slayer, Megadeth, Anthrax, Metallica, Motorhead, the Misfits – well, you get the picture.  I wasn’t especially angry or anything, I just liked this kind of music.

You can imagine how popular this made me at school.  While most other respectable girls were listening to Slaughter and Warrant, I turned my nose up at these posers.  I was a magnet for any boy with long stringy hair and an Iron Maiden t-shirt.  Especially the ones with “bands.”  I put that in quotes because the best I could gather, there was only one “band” at my first high school, and it had a revolving door policy, meaning that when you graduated, a new guy took your place, because the only place these guys ever played was a school dance or two, and I think they were pelted with rotten fruit then.  But I digress.  I was one of about three girls in the whole school who actually understood the concept of headbanging, and since I could read music, even better.  I was the dorkiest cool girl in school, with my black leather jacket and shit-kicking boots, nevermind my own Iron Maiden t-shirt.  I got quite a few marriage proposals from boys who just couldn’t believe that a GIRL liked such HARD SHIT.  It was the apogee of my high school career.

By the age of 15 or 16, I’d moved on and further widened my musical tastes, but for a brief shining moment, metal was mine.  Here are a few choice selections from Ruby’s Metal Years…

Anthrax – Got the Time

Anthrax was one of the coolest bands around during Ruby’s Metal Years.  They rocked hard and fast – just like I liked it.  But they were a little more interesting than most of the metal bands of the time, which is why I still listen to them.  I’d been playing piano since I was four, and naturally loved Joe Jackson, so I thought it kicked ass that Anthrax would cover a Joe Jackson song.  I mean really – you wouldn’t see Metallica or Slayer covering Joe Jackson, now would you?

Megadeth – Poison Was the Cure

I was one of the few hardcore fans who preferred Megadeth to Metallica – especially after Metallica freakin’ sold out with the black album.  Trash, people.  Megadeth were always more rhythmic, and Dave Ellefson will go down in history as one of the best bass players EVER.  He propels this song, which somehow manages to be superfast and superfunky at the same time.  Leave it to Megadeth.

Funny story: my baby brother is ten years younger than me, which would have made him about three or four during my metal phase.  He LOVED Megadeth, and told everybody his name was “Dabe MusTANG, dude!”  My mother was mortified, naturally.  He would lipsynch “Hangar 18″ and “Peace Sells” by standing on the living room table and singing into a remote.

Queensryche – Jet City Woman

Queensryche were HUGE for about an hour in 1990-1991.  I’d loved Operation:Mindcrime, and was fully expecting to be disappointed by Empire, but that was not the case.  It was a little less metal, a little more melodic, but it was still heads about Slaughter or Trixter.  “Jet City Woman” should have been the hit that “Silent Lucidity” was.  It was a much better song, in my opinion.

Another funny story: when Empire came out, Queensryche toured behind it, and played Operation:Mindcrime in its entirety during this tour.  I somehow talked my mother into taking me and about three or four more dorks to see them.  I’m pretty sure we were the only relatively sober people in the place, because we only smoked one joint shared amongst us.  Most of the audience did not have the patience to sit through Operation:Mindcrime, including at least two of the dorks with me, having come to hear “Silent Lucidity.”  It was an awesome show, though.  But my mother, who sat in the lobby, didn’t much appreciate it.

And here’s one more surprise…

What Else Is There?

Lest you think I stopped listening to music in 1980, I offer you one of my favorite bands, Royksopp.

I’m not sure where I first heard Royksopp.  I’m sure it wasn’t on the radio.  While some of their songs are certainly radio friendly, as you will soon hear for yourself, the best thing about Royksopp is also their biggest liability – the fact that there is nothing that will automatically identify a song as undoubtedly Royksopp in the first 10 seconds. And this is aside from the fact that they are a European band with an unpronouncable name, a death knell in America.

On their two best albums, Melody A.M. (2001) and The Understanding (2005), Royksopp sounds like a completely different band on nearly every cut.  They employ different guest vocalists, for one thing, but for another, they play everything from dance to jazz to torch songs.  All very electronic, yet also warm-sounding much of the time.

Enough from me – listen for yourself:

What Else Is There?:
This song could have been huge. In 1988, that is. Unfortunately, it employs the wrong type of 80s vibe for today’s audience – the Siouxsie and the Banshees kind. It’s an expansive, sinuous song with lyrics that can be interpreted a hundred different ways. I have no idea who the girl singing is.

From The Understanding.

Sparks:
Does this not sound like an entirely different band? One of the most beautiful songs of the last 10 years, without a doubt. A strange combination of torch and electronica that actually works. And when the slightly disembodied (or just sampled) female singer croons:

It doesn’t matter when
it may rain or it may shine
blurred memories of us
come back from time to time

well… I just get chills.
From Melody A.M.

She’s So:
One of my favorite albums of all time is the soundtrack to Blade Runner; when I heard this song, I thought I’d found a bonus track. “She’s So” has the same spacy, smoky, noir-ish sound as the Vangelis music from Blade Runner, only jazzier. At the same time, it also reminds me of another of my favorite bands, Air.
From Melody A.M.

Do yourself a favor – download these three, then get thee to Itunes or whatever you use and get the rest.

Mellow Gold, 70s Style

Mellow Gold from Sessions

I’ve always been a sucker for the compilation albums advertised on TV.  I’m ashamed of how many I actually own.  Many of these I owned on album or cassette as a child, and as an adult have spent an embarrassing amount of time and money recreating these on CD.  No, I don’t need a hobby – this is my hobby. As part of an ongoing series, I’ll share with you suckers some of my favorites, beginning with the one that got me started, the one and only Mellow Gold.

Mellow Gold actually belonged to my mother.  I suppose she gave it to me because the first album was missing and the two that remained were already scratched all to hell.  I was in HEAVEN. Two albums, packed with songs that I soon grew to love, along with some duds, but hey, you could always skip the duds, anyway. And I loved that cover shot, by the way.  I still do.

As a young connoisseur of comp albums, I soon found that Mellow Gold was typical of offerings from Sessions – eclectic selections, interesting cover art, three albums or tapes.  I was a return customer, as you will soon discover.  This particular volume came out in 1976, and the three albums sold for $8.98.  WOW.

Here’s the track listing for Mellow Gold, annotated:

Side 1:

Sundown – Gordon Lightfoot

Midnight at the Oasis – Maria Muldar

I Say a Little Prayer for You – Aretha Franklin

Then You Can Tell Me Goodbye – the Casinos

Long Train Running – the Doobie Brothers

Side 2:

You Were on My Mind – We Five

Sunshine – Jonathan Edwards

Cherish – the Association

Hey Jude – Wilson Pickett

Ma Belle Amie – The Tee Set

That’s the Way I Always Heard it Should Be – Carly Simon

Side 3:

SOS – ABBA

How Can I Be Sure? – The Rascals

I’d Like to Get to Know You – Spanky and Our Gang

Everybody’s Talkin’ – Nilsson

My Special Angel – the Vogues

Love the One You’re With – Stephen Stills

Side 4:

Anticipation – Carly Simon

Dock of the Bay – Otis Redding

Doctor My Eyes – Jackson Browne

Feel Like Makin’ Love – Roberta Flack

One of a Kind (Love Affair) – the Spinners

Side 5:

Summer Breeze – Seals and Crofts

Baby, I’m Yours – Barbara Lewis

Hello, It’s Me – Todd Rundgren

Send in the Clowns – Judy Collins

She’s Gone – Daryl Hall and John Oates

(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman – Aretha Franklin

Side 6:

Fallin’ in Love – The Souther, Hillman, Furay Band

Good Time Charlie’s Got the Blues – Danny O’Keefe

Baby Don’t Go – Sonny and Cher

Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love to Town – Kenny Rogers and the First Edition

Everything That Touches You – the Association

Oh, how I grieved over the long-lost first album.  I loved “Sundown,” and “Cherish.”  Lots of weeping and wailing over that one.  Album two (or sides 3 and 4, according to Sessions) was my favorite.  especially “SOS,” “How Can I Be Sure?” “I’d Like to Get to Know You” and “Everybody’s Talkin’” in sucession – that seemed especially good sequencing to a 6-7 year old girl.  The songs I listened to most were probably “Hello, It’s Me” and “Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love to Town.”

I think what I liked best about listening to this was imagining my gorgeous mother – and she was gorgeous, like a cross between Florence Henderson and Jean Seberg (I’m serious) – saving up the money she made by waiting tables to buy this, writing her name on the back of the cover so that none of her sisters would try to make off with it, then listening to “Sundown” while getting dressed in her bell-bottoms and Aigner boots to go out on one of her first dates with my daddy.

Now, here are a few bites from Mellow Gold, just for you:

I’d Like to Get to Know You – Spanky and Our Gang: Ah, I love this song. The dignified male verses, then the brassy Spanky coming in, the breathy outro…. all right.

Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love to Town - Kenny Rogers and the First Edition: We listened to a LOT of Kenny Rogers in my house, growing up. This ties with “Reuben James” as my favorite. This is a very menacing song, and I can’t imagine why it was so appealing to a small child, but oh well.

Sundown – Gordon Lightfoot: This was the song that made me regret the loss of album one so keenly. One of my favorite songs of all time.

And here are two pictures that look a little like my mother:

3 Man Band of the Week – Cream

Cream - Disraeli Gears

And now for my favorite three man band, the irrepressible Cream.

The first time I can remember hearing Cream was on a British Invasion compilation that nearly got me sent to a convent at the tender age of 9.  More about that on a later post. Anyway, the comp had three Cream songs, the usual suspects – “White Room,” “Sunshine of Your Love,” and “Crossroads.”  I couldn’t get enough of “Crossroads.”  I still can’t.

Like the three man version of Traffic, Cream sounds like a least a ten man band.  And yes, Clapton is God and all that, but one should never overlook the talents of Jack Bruce and Ginger Baker.  Jack Bruce was not only one of the best singers of the late 60s era – and by best I emphasize versatile – but he was also a solid bass player, more than a match for Clapton.  As for Ginger Baker – I’m sure he’s an octopus.  There’s no way he just has two arms.

Cream managed to mash-up blues, psychedelia, and just good-old heavy rock better than almost any of their contemporaries. They were great musicians from the get-go, but it took them some time to develop into songwriters.  Recognizing early on that none of them were particularly good lyricists, they employed Pete Brown, who wrote the lyrics to some of their best songs, including “SWLABR,” “Sunshine of Your Love,” and “I Feel Free.” However, overtime, each of them developed into songwriters in their own right, each distinctive.

And, the unnecessary “Toad” aside, Cream were tasteful. Even though all three of them could play the hell out of their instruments, they never seem to be showing off.  In that respect, they were closer to the Beatles than to any other band of their era.

These three needed each other, despite the fact that they evidently got along like three cats with their tails tied together.  Nothing that Clapton, Bruce, or Baker ever did afterward was as consistently good as the two years of music they made as Cream.  And yes, that even includes one of my favorite albums of all time, Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs.

Enough from me – here goes the music:

Lawdy Mama
Cream made blues standards their own. Unlike the pretentious Led Zeppelin (go ahead and start the flaming comments. I’m ready.), for instance, who made dirges out of most of their blues covers, Cream made songs like this one really swing. I don’t know why, but I’m really fond of this one. I got a real funny feeling about it, you know.

Deserted Cities of the Heart
It’s almost hard to believe that it’s the same band, when you listen to “Deserted Cities” after “Lawdy Mama.” “Deserted Cities” is HUGE; it somehow manages to be tight while also being wide open, so expansive that it seems to go on forever. Jack Bruce’s vocal is perfect, never over the top. He was just as adept at this kind of heavy psychedelia as he was the pop of “I Feel Free” or the dirty blues of “Politician,” too. As an aside, this is one of Camille Paglia’s favorite songs. Wow.

Badge
Hands down my favorite Cream song EVER. I don’t know what it is about this song that is so affecting… wait, yes, I do. It’s the evocative lyrics and the subtle, but gorgeous arrangement.
“Don’t you notice how the wheel turns ’round/but you’d better pick yourself up from the ground/before they bring the curtain down.”

Clapton wrote this with George Harrison, who also plays rhythm guitar. Makes you wish that Harrison would have left the Beatles and joined Cream, where his talents were put to better use. And the title – Harrison called it “Bridge,” but Clapton misread his writing as “Badge.”

What’s your favorite Cream song?

Let’s Take Some E – emusic, That Is

Sorry I’ve been gone so long.  The Long Hot Summer just passed me by, as Style Council would have it.

Anyway, I was recently sucked into emusic, yet again.  Yes, once long long ago, I tried emusic, and it blew.  Hard.  I think I downloaded the entire number of songs I was allotted in my trial period – and all of them were either by Sharon Jones or Dwight Yoakam, just so you know – and promptly cancelled.  Here’s why:

• Shitty selection.  Even I, who loves nearly everything put out by either CCR or the Stax label, which emusic has tons of, couldn’t find much to love on emusic.  I think my tastes are far too plebian, but that’s a personal problem, right?
• “New Stereo Recordings by the Original Artist.” Yes, you read that right.  Emusic is awash in those cheap re-recordings that you find for $3 at Wal-Mart – only there’s no fine print to read to let you know it.  The only way I figured this out was by reading reviews and listening to some of the songs (and considering I was using a laptop with tin-can speakers, that was a challenge). I think this practice is an ABOMINATION. Who wants to waste their downloads on this kind of trash.  Not Miss Ruby, for sure.
• Shitty sound quality.  Some of the files have literally been ripped from vinyl.  Vinyl that a dog’s been packing in its mouth for a week or so. Others just sound muddy.
• That wonky download manager.  Emusic has the craziest download manager I have ever seen.  And that’s all I have to say about that.

So, curious to know what I found when emusic solicited me with 75 free downloads to come back, a year later? Well, more of the same.

All the same problems I found last year are still there. Like the last time I was suckered in, I couldn’t even use all of the 75 downloads they gifted me because I couldn’t find that many songs I liked.  And trust me, I looked – if emusic was a guy, I’d be in jail for stalking.

That being said, I did find some interesting things on emusic that surprised me, enough that I’ve signed up for another month, just to see what else happens, because it appears that they are trying to clean up their act.   Here are some of the gems I unearthed:

• Margo Guryan’s Take a Picture.  Yes, that’s right.  I’d been tempted on more than one occasion to pay outrageous sums for imports of this, and here it turns up on little old emusic.  For real.
• The Free Design’s Kites are Fun.  Another htf gem I’d been tempted to throw down a king’s ransom for.
• Orpheus.  Are you starting to see a pattern here?  So I like cheesy late-60s pop.  It’s none of your business, anyway.
• Sloan.  And yes, I also like Canadian bands that owe a lot to 60s-70s pop.  Just try to deny Sloan.  You can’t, you know.
• Spoon.  Need I say more?
• Dr. Dog.  I was just about to order Fate from amazon, too. I got it free, baby doll.
• Bobby Caldwell.  AAAAAHHHHHH.  Both “Open Your Eyes” AND “The Flame.”
• Sammi Smith.  “Kentucky.”  And “Birmingham Mistake.”

HOWEVER. I fully intend to let emusic know every time I find a shitty-sounding file or one of those rerecorded things.  I want to see what they do about it, if anything.  And, if their selection doesn’t improve drastically by, oh, say, December, I will cancel again.

I’d love some feedback here.  I’d love to hear what some of you have thought about emusic, if you’ve used it.

Three Man Band – Traffic

From the inside cover of John Barleycorn Must Die,

the only picture I can find of the three man version of Traffic.

I have long had the idea that three-man bands rock harder than they have to just to prove they can. My first case in point was The James Gang . I now present you Traffic.

Traffic did not begin as a three man band, nor did they end as one. But for a brief, shining moment in 1969-1970, when Steve Winwood, Jim Capaldi, and Chris Wood came together for what was ostensibly a Steve Winwood solo album, these three members of Traffic became the three-man incarnation of Traffic, my personal favorite.

The three-man version of Traffic consisted of Winwood on piano/organ/vocals, Capaldi on drums/background vocals, and Wood on sax (I would postulate that other instruments were also played by these members, but I have no proof). Interestingly enough, Winwood began the album by playing all the instruments himself, calling Capaldi and Wood in for help. Thank God. Not that I have anything against Winwood – I just really like Jim Capaldi. And Chris Wood, too, I suppose.

At any rate, the trio Traffic is much more interesting than the previous incarnations; mind you I like the previous incarnations, and appreciate Dave Mason’s contributions, but the Traffic I love is the jazzy, funky Traffic of John Barleycorn Must Die. This version makes a terrific amount of noise for a trio, all of it worth hearing.

I grew up listening to John Barleycorn on vinyl, no idea where I got it, and it’s to this day one of my favorites to hear on vinyl. It has a warm, full sound, with all that electric piano and sax, that’s perfect for vinyl, and Jim Capaldi’s drumming is so precise that it actually seems to snap out of the record.

Let me also note that I often find sax offensive in rock music. I give Chris Wood a pass. He’s bringing it, and I have to believe that Pink Floyd was listening. So was Supertramp, but I digress…

Without further ado, three of my favorite tracks by one of my favorite trios…

NOTE: It is absolutely essential that you listen to “Glad” segue into “Freedom Rider.” This is the only way to properly enjoy either song. I mean it.

Glad – Rock instrumentals are often tedious, surf music notwithstanding. “Glad” is anything but tedious. It rocks from the get go. It gets a little mellow toward the end, and you start to worry, but never fear, it kicks right back into gear. As an aside, I’ve always thought Steve Winwood was overrated as a singer and underrated as a musician. Does he sound black? Who cares. He can play anything with keys like a house on fire. Who, prior to 1970, would have thought he had the chops that he displays on John Barleycorn?

Freedom Rider – Now that “Glad” has you all warmed up, you’re ready for “Freedom Rider.” That sax intro is seductive, as is Jim Capaldi’s incredibly crisp drumming. But it’s Steve Winwood’s piano that propels this song – okay, his voice has something to do with it too, but that piano is something else. The sax gets a little wonky in places, thanks Chris, but it’s still a great song.

Empty Pages – This may possibly be my favorite Traffic song. I’ll probably change my mind by next week, but I can say that growing up, this was definitely my favorite Traffic song. This was one I nearly wore the grooves on the record out from repetitive listening. That intro is an attention getter, and Steve Winwood was never in better voice. The electric piano just cooks, and Jim Capaldi just beats it into shape. No sax to be found – Chris Wood must have been taking a smoke break. And if the intro kicks ass, how about the finale? Perfect.

Three man bands. I can go on this riff awhile. Help me out. Make some suggestions, please…

Only Daddy That’ll Walk the Line

Me and my handsome Daddy.

Tomorrow is Father’s Day, and to celebrate, I’m posting about my Daddy.

I have the best parents ever; not only have they been together over 30 years – “without either of us killing each other,” as my mother likes to say – but they seem to get ever more fun the longer I know them.

Case in point – yesterday, my Daddy comes bringing me one of those old-fashioned looking little stereos that plays records, CDs, and tapes. “Now, this will play any kind of record,” he told me, “78s even. Do you even have any 78s?” I think if I’d said no, he would have gone looking for those, too. How wonderful is that?

I don’t even know all the ways to tell you how great my Daddy is. But here’s a list of just some of the reasons he’s the best:

• When I was little, he used to take me to his coal mines with him, and actually let me go just inside. I rode in the coal trucks, on the dozers and the loaders, even on the man trip. That’s an experience very few children have, I imagine. Plus he would always hide me a little snack in his “dinner bucket,” then bring it back to me at night.
• My Daddy loves old cars. We’re always looking at cars, working on cars, or talking about cars. By the time I was five, I could rattle off the specs on his ‘73 Corvette (it’s an LT1 with a 327, if you’re interested), and tell you all the trim levels and available engines for Chevrolet trucks. He taught me all this. I was like a trained monkey – he’d take me to the service station, or the liquor store, and sit me up on a counter and let me run on as long as anybody would listen. Even now, he loves it when I can come with some car talk in front of his buddies.
• We would often go to Tennessee to see friends of his, and Daddy would always stop at Lincoln Memorial University in Harrogate so I could see the Lincoln Museum. Once we went past when it was closed, and we still yet stopped to look at the huge statue of Lincoln and his dog. Just because I wanted to. I always loved history, and he’d go out of his way to show me something historically interesting, and would bring me books and things about history.
• Sometimes Daddy would come get me and even friends of mine out of school just to take us to lunch, or to take us on some trip he was going on for work. He even did this after I was in college, and all my friends just loved it. In fact, he still does this.

Okay, I’m about to get all teary-eyed, so here’s the songs, dedicated to my Daddy:

Kenny Rogers – Reuben James

There used to be a restaurant (or “resturnt,” as we say around here) in town that Daddy and I would go to when I was really little. They had a big jukebox, and when we went in, Daddy would give me a handful of change so I could play it. I was so little that they had to push a chair up in front of it so that I could see the list and reach the buttons. This was one of the songs I liked best, and would sing it for Daddy and whomever else had the misfortune to be there at the time. Daddy was always tickled by how amazed people were that such a little girl could sing all the words to so many songs. He’s still tickled when he thinks I’ve impressed anyone

My mother and Daddy both love Kenny Rogers. In fact, they took me to a Kenny Rogers concert when I wasn’t even two years old – and they claim I loved it. Hmmm.

Jefferson Starship – Count on Me

We also listened to a lot of soft rock, when I was little. This is one of the songs I can remember hearing on the radio, maybe when we’d drive up to Marblehead, Ohio, to see some of Daddy’s friends and so he could pretend to fish (he doesn’t like to fish – he just likes boats), or when we’d go to Gatlinburg, Tennessee to go to the rod runs and the weird museums down there. My family has always been one to travel, but we’re not big on amusement parks or anything like that – we instead like historical sites and museums and places where old cars congregate. We still all go on trips together, even though all the children are grown now. And we still have so much fun.

We can count on each other, too.

Dire Straits – Portobello Belle (live)

Most kids, once they are teenagers, kind of grow apart from their parents. I never got the opportunity – my parents wouldn’t allow it. We were all still herded together all the time, whether we liked it or not.

When it came time for me to get my drivers’ license, and hence a car, Daddy and I spent a lot of time driving around, looking for a car for me. We’d talk about cars, about the cars he’d had (and he’s had a lot), and what would be good for me. We listened to Dire Straits a lot; they’re the kind of low-key stuff he loves. When this song would come on, and he’d hear the line, “she thinks she’s tough/she ain’t no English rose,” Daddy would always nudge me and say “sounds like somebody I know.” And I thought I was tough, but we both knew better.

On a funny note, some people who lived a few miles up the road from me had an awesome 79 model Camaro Z28. It has sat there for over 20 years, just collecting dust. I wanted that car so bad I could taste it when I got my license, so Daddy went up to these people’s door, and asked them if they would sell it. They of course said no. Instead of giving up graciously, he offered them way more than it was worth, which they still refused. He then told them that if it were him, he’d be ashamed to let that car sit there and rot when a little old girl wanted it so bad. To this day I laugh about that, because he had several classic cars of his own that I was forbidden to touch under any circumstances!

Waylon Jennings – Only Daddy That’ll Walk the Line

Everyone I know thinks I have the coolest Daddy ever. So here’s one more for the coolest Daddy ever.

Oh, and here’s a picture of my baby, the classic truck I was finally able to buy my own self. My Daddy was probably never prouder of me than when I had him go look at this one with me. And that includes when I graduated from high school, college, and graduate school. So here it is, the truck me and my Daddy spend so much time on, my precious Lil’ Doe:

Aliens in Atlanta

The boys from Doraville

Just as promised, a post on the phenomenon of phenomenally ugly bands from Georgia.

I give you Atlanta Rhythm Section.

Their ugliness is unparalleled. Their talent is debated. Nonetheless, I am proud (okay, a little abashed) to say they are one of my favorite bands.

In the canon of Southern Rock, ARS occupies an interesting position. While they had several chart hits – “So Into You,” “Imaginary Lover” – their charting hits had more in common with Fleetwood Mac than Lynyrd Skynyrd. While they could rock as hard as most of the other B-list Southern Rock bands (think Molly Hatchet and Black Oak Arkansas), their music was much more sophisticated, much harder to drink beer to.

Consider the band’s history: most of the members got their start playing with Roy Orbison’s Candymen, then moved on to the Classics IV, famous for the song “Spooky” (which ARS would later do a pointless remake of, considering that vocals aside, it sounded almost identical to the original). Unlike most Southern rock bands, they had a long history of playing mainstream pop music, albeit mainstream pop with a serious dark side.

So when it came time for them to regroup as Atlanta Rhythm Section, they no doubt took advantage of the growing Southern rock groundswell, typing themselves in name, music, and, especially, lyrics.

But ARS never fit in. Nowhere near as raucous as their Southern rock brethren, yet too Southern in their musical sensibilities to appeal to a wide audience, they only hit the charts with songs totally divorced from any Southern reference, songs that, while appealing, were extremely MOR and not really representative of their sound.

Alas, I do run on. I’ll let the music take over.

Doraville
A statement of purpose, if you will. Representing Doraville. What you notice first off about this and almost all of Atlanta Rhythm Section’s music is that it has a dark, almost brooding quality, even when the lyrics and ostensibly, the music, are upbeat.

Most of the Southern rock bands liked to brag about from whence they came, and ARS are no different, but lyrically, they tend to have a bit of an edge, both structurally and literally. They’ll have multiple rhymes within a phrase without sounding stilted; they use the word “redneck” repeatedly, and unlike many of the other Southern rock bands, it’s not a prideful reference to themselves.

Dog Days
“Dog Days” is one of the prime examples of why Atlanta Rhythm Section was damned to faint success. A song that it’s hard to relate to unless you are Southern, “Dog Days” is a languid epic about just that – the dog days of summer.

The first stanza is amazing:
“Paper fans in sweaty hands/ shooing flies away/ reflections on a porch/ a shelter from the scorch/ when dog days came around.”

It’s poetic, whether you like it or not. Unfortunately, the chorus is a little stale, and the song suffers for it, but is still beautiful.

Champagne Jam
Lord have mercy. You have to wonder how Molly Hatchet must have responded to this one. What bunch of rednecks goes around singing about having a CHAMPAGNE JAM with the boys?

Again, that’s what sets Atlanta Rhythm Section apart. They want “first class fun.” Don’t give ‘em “no whisky, give [them] some high-class booze.”

Unlike most of the Southern rock bunch, ARS never identified themselves as rednecks; as a result, rednecks didn’t identify with them. “Champagne Jam” is a perfect example of why ARS could never appeal to their built-in audience. They were Southern rock for the New South, maybe. More Urban Cowboy than cracker.

It’s a strangely sedate party anthem, but when they finally start to break it down around the 3:00 mark is worth the price of admission.

If you want a real laugh, look at the picture above and try to picture them having a champagne jam. Ahem.

Quinella

This one, along with the following song, are taken from one of the original ARS line-up’s final albums, 1981’s Quinella, after the success of “So Into You” and at the aegis of the band’s decline. The title song from that album, this song is about hitting it big at the Quinella racetrack/casino. The champagne’s back, just so you know.

What’s so interesting about this song, to me, is that the band finally put into words what had been obvious all the while – the narrator of the song refers to himself as a “rank outsider,” (in and of itself an odd choice of words for a rock song), and dedicates the song to the rest of the outsiders.

Musically, the song reminds me of Little Feat; singer Ronnie Hammond even sounds a bit like Lowell George at times.
Alien

A minor hit in the vein of “So Into You” and “Imaginary Lover,” “Alien” takes the outsider theme of “Quinella” one step further. “Have mercy cried the alien/help him find his way back home,” the song says, but it’s obvious the narrator is the alien.

And that’s what ARS was, really. A band of aliens, too wordy and slick for Southern rock, but too entrenched in Southern customs to break out of the mold completely. It explains the off-kilter feeling of most of their songs; geeky party anthems that no self-respecting redneck is going to turn up to 10, sophisticated MOR pop that was just a little too dark for lasting success. They were lyrically and musically too literate for the fans of Southern rock, and too Southern for most of the mainstream audience.

In conclusion, another picture. This is the cover of an ARS album titled, ironically enough, A Rock-n-Roll Alternative.

Funk Only a Mother Could Love

God love the James Gang. They only made a few albums, a great number of their songs sound so identical that they are nearly impossible to tell apart, and to beat it all, they were nominated to mine and Lucille’s list of the ugliest bands we’ve ever laid eyes on. Since there’s only three of them, they come in behind Atlanta Rhythm Section, so at least they have that.

On the plus side… they have Joe Walsh. What more did they need, as evidenced by the extreme sucking power of, oh, everything they did after he left?

I realize I may be in the minority with my love for Joe Walsh, but he rocks harder than he has any right to, considering he took up with that bunch of asshats the Eagles. Surprised? Thought because I love 99.9% of the 70s that I also loved the Eagles? Nope. Most of their songs make me want to gnaw open a vein. I do make exceptions for a handful of their songs, including this one, but mostly because it’s Joe Walsh and partly because it reminds me of my mother and her sisters.

Anyway, I digress. Joe Walsh is good, he did most of his best work with the James Gang, and when the James Gang’s good, they’re very good, blah blah blah. The James Gang speaks for itself.

Funk No. 49
How funky indeed. How three people can make this much noise is beyond me (but I do have a theory that bands with only three members tend to rock harder, just to make up for their small size). This song compels me to shake my ass. Between the cowbells or whatever that is and the hyena noises at the break, it just moves me. Can’t help it. Excellent cruising song, btw, if you can keep from dancing while driving.

Funk No. 48
An age old question – did the funk need a 49th iteration to truly rock, or was the 48th funky enough? We may never know. You can shake your ass to this one, too. It has all those jerky little breaks that were perfected on the 49th version, with the addition of a thumping bass. Is it just me, or does Joe Walsh sound like someone’s punched half his teeth out? Does it matter?

Woman
Poor old Joe Walsh. If these songs are any indication, his batting average could use improvement. He tends to attract the kind that, as they say around here, “you better get a biting dog for.”

Shallow women, tsk tsk. Look past the fact that Joe looks like ten miles of bad road, has the diction of an ape, and went to the dark side by joining the asshat brigade. Listen to the guitar, women, and listen hard. If a man can do that to a guitar…. yeah, I know. That’s bullshit.

Enjoy the James Gang. Stick around for previews from next time’s episode, titled – “Why are all the bands from Georgia so ugly, yet rock so freaking hard?”