Where's That Sound Coming From?

"Tommy Ardolino!!... Tommy Ardolino!!"--a belated, non-linear tribute in a few parts

2012-02-28T22:28:00.002-08:00

Prologue: January 2012: One man's tribute to a fallen comrade.

At the recent Scud Mountain Boys reunion-tour stop in Northampton (at Pearl Street), opening act Ray Mason played an intense, passionate, solo-electric set that kept my eyes riveted to the stage (though I admit I missed the first couple songs). One 60 year old man and his Silvertone guitar filled the room with one pop gem after another. My sister Alyssa, who was also at the show, once described Ray's gigs as always life-affirming and I've recycled that description many times since. Especially when I start thinking "am I getting too old for this game?"

I remember The Scuds' Joe Pernice telling me about the awesomeness of Ray Mason as we drove through Amherst Center one fall day in 1992. We were on our way to my (failed) audition for The Scuds (the more rocking band that preceded Scud Mt. Boys). As I've said before, good thing I wasn't exactly what they were looking for (Christ, I was 19 and completely unprepared!) because it set the stage for their morphing into the mellow band we all know and love. Yeah, I'm taking full credit for their success. (No I'm not.)


Joe Pernice joins Ray Mason onstage--Pearl Street, Northampton, January 2012

Fast forward 20 fucking years. No one thought The Scud Mountain Boys would ever reunite, but here we were and there they were.

And Ray Mason, the local legend they all looked up to when they were starting out, was STILL rocking the house, slashing away at his Silvertone and owning the stage. On this night, in the middle of one of his last songs Ray walked to the front of the stage, abruptly stopped and, off mic, shouted, "TOMMY ARDOLINO!".
Some folks cheered. I know I let out a big "WOOOO!". Then, more jagged chords, more stalking, and then he stopped again. Another off-mic shout out: "TOMMY ARDOLINO!" More cheers.

This was such a heavy moment. I'm not sure how many people grasped it. Was it merely a shout out to his recently-deceased friend? Or was he conjuring Ardolino's spirit? Or perhaps he knew Tommy's spirit was in the house and Ray was just saying hello.

Tom and Ray were kindred spirits. Natives to the area (Ray-Holyoke, Tom-Springfield) who lived and breathed music, who never lost their wide-eyed enthusiasm for good music, good record stores and, of course, cats.

But Ray chose life, and productivity, when, 20 or so years ago, he quit the less-healthy aspects of being a rock and roller, and instead became addicted to writing and releasing albums. I've lost count how many he's made. But they keep on a-comin', both with his own band and as half the writing team of The Lonesome Brothers. He's not touring the world and appearing on national TV like Tommy was in NRBQ, but he's still with us and doing what he loves with no sign of stopping.

Tom embraced the rock and roll life and didn't seem to know what to do without it. He was no longer the drummer in a band playing 200+ gigs a year, so he just had too much time on his gifted hands. And hanging with cats and records can only get a 50-something man so far.
So when I saw and heard Ray calling out his friend's name from the stage, it was a chilling moment. To me it seemed a purging, mourning wail to a fallen kindred soul/rock and roll soldier; as well as a cheer/exaltation, to a room full of friends who would recognize the name and gladly testify.

I imagined a wolf standing on the edge of a cliff howling mournfully at the moon. But this was a living legend saluting his friend in front of an audience, playing his beloved instrument; a setting that Ray, Tommy, and countless performers (myself included) would call one of the few places, if not the one place, that one can show their true selves.

I: Summer 2012: The Last Waltz--Tommy joins Terry at the Green River Festival.

As of this writing, it's been almost two months since drummer extraordinaire Tom Ardolino passed away at the age of 56.
I saw what was probably one of his final live appearances (if not his final appearance), this past summer at the Green River Festival in Greenfield, MA (I was there to play with School For the Dead).
It was a surprise when, part way through Terry Adams' set with his new version of NRBQ,
Tom ambled up from behind the stage and came up front to sing a tune (damned if I can remember what it was. I blame the blazing hot summer day.) He then got behind a second drum kit and played drums on one, maybe two songs, along side regular drummer, Conrad Choucroun (who, according to Terry's Official Site, earned Ardolino's official endorsement upon first hearing him play).

It seemed like a little "drum battle" was staged during one song, but, to my eyes and ears, Terry cut it short when it seemed rather one sided. One drummer was in rock and roll touring shape, and the other, simply, was not. Tommy smiled sheepishly, boyishly (and yes, semi-toothlessly) at his long time friend and band mate, Terry, and I'm sure no feelings were hurt. After all, that was the same guy who, in 1974 at a gig in Sunderland, called a 19 year old Ardolino up to the stage (at that point, just a huge fan who had never played drums to anything but records) when NRBQ's original drummer fell ill at a gig, and, after one perfectly-played song, pronounced him the heir to the drum throne (well, it didn't happen that instantaneously, but I'm sure if there's a biopic, that's how they'll do it).

I'm glad I was able to see him do it one last time, however.

And anyway, Tom Ardolino didn't have to prove anything to anybody.

“Tommy deserves an entire wing in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame,’’ singer Bonnie Raitt told the (Boston) Globe last summer. “There’s Charlie Watts, and there’s Tom Ardolino. That’s it."

Tom Ardolino at the Green River Fest, 7/16/11.

II: 2001: "Next Stop: Brattleboro"--Yours Truly, young, cocky and ignorant, is repeatedly referred to as "Tom Ardolino Jr." by an NRBQ insider. And I have no clue what it means.

When The Aloha Steamtrain were a regularly-gigging band (1997-2002), one of our regular stops was The Mole's Eye cafe in Brattleboro, VT. We also kept a regular on-line "Gig Diary"(these days, called a "blog"), in which bassist Henning Ohlenbusch and I would recount memories of the show (or, more often, everything that happened that day/night EXCEPT the show.)

In any case, here's an excerpt from April 20, 2001:

BRIAN:
Is it some strange coincidence that we were booked to play in Vermont on 4/20?....

......A guy named Johnny, who roadies for NRBQ, talked to me a bunch. He keeps referring to me as _________Jr (NRBQ's drummer). When he yelled that during the concert, (Aloha Steamtrain singer/guitarist) Russ replied, "yes, those are my favorite cigars too". Johnny apologized for being obnoxious and drunk the last time we'd met. "Who isn't obnoxious and drunk", I thought, "in this private hell in which I live?".

We began the second set with the Bee Gees tune, which got a good response. One of our loyal, long time fans later told me he remembers hearing that album (Bee Gees 1st) on the same day he heard The Doors first album. Talk about night and day. Do you think all the Gibbs wanted to act out Oedipus with their parents?..."

Ok. Well, first off--I resisted any editing, because this stuff has existed on line for eleven years now. No sense in hiding the evidence now.

But here's what it tells me. In 2001, I:
1) was too ignorant to know who Tom Ardolino was
2) too disrespectful to be gracious in my re-telling of the story online
3) too lazy to even look up Tom Ardolino's name, and instead filed my report with a blank line in place of his name.

And those, believe it or not, were my GOOD traits, ladies and germs. (ba-doom. ching!)

Anyway....let me retell the tale as I remember it. Actually, I may be remembering two different stories.

So there I was, playing pinball between sets at The Moles Eye, and avoiding talking to people. Just hanging with my own ignorant, disrespectful, lazy (and antisocial) self...

So there I am, playing pinball in between sets at the Mole's Eye...

....when a guy I'd never met before, who appeared to be a bit into the drink, stumbled up (mid-pinball game) and shouted at close range, "TOM ARDOLINO JR!".
I said "Huh?", not about to look up from my game in-progress.
He expounded a bit. "You're like TOM ARDOLINO JR, man! You look like him, you're a solid drummer, and if he met you, he'd say 'Meeowww...meeeowww' I just know it".
I'd looked up for a second to catch him making the international "cat scratch" sign.
I was a bit freaked out.
I lost my ball.
Game over. Thanks a lot, dude.
I said "I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about... and I gotta go play the next set".
As I'm walking away, he shouts "TOM ARDOLINO!! N! R! B! Q!" with some anger in his voice.

Knowing hardly anything by NRBQ, but knowing their reputation as a "musician's band" that I'd put off exploring, I turned back and politely said "Ohhh...right. Well thanks."
He introduced himself as Johnny and said he worked for them as a roadie (I think).

Here he is, that night, with Henning:

Henning and Johnny.

Anyway, I do hope he forgave my ignorance. In retrospect, it's one of the best drumming compliments I've ever received.

Of course, I later looked online to see if I looked anything like this..whatever his name was. NRBQ drummer guy.
Ummm....well, maybe the young Tommy. But it's sort of like when people say I look like Mickey Dolenz. Curly hair, drum kit= exact clone. particularly if you're buzzed and in a dark club.

Tommy, 1976.

Brian, 2001

III: 2003: "'Atsa My Band!": I Ask Ken to Make Me a Mix

Somewhere around 2003, perhaps it was having turned 30, I began to slowly embrace music that I'd previously rejected as "music for 30-somethings". Back in 1995, my then-house mate Ken Maiuri tried to turn me on to both Steely Dan and NRBQ. I didn't want any of it. At the time, I only wanted speedy pop made by skinny, pale, preferably British blokes in the late 70's-early 80's, or 60's psychedelia and garage punk. Nothing beardy, big collar-y or Hawaiian shirt-y. I was a snob and an ageist.

But, now, as my first signs of Grateful Dead fandom were beginning to sprout, I figured I was heading into the inevitable. I was mellowing out. My brain chemistry was changing. I was giving in. Veering away from WAMH and toward WRSI.

Ok, Tony Westcott, go ahead and make me a Steely Dan mix.
Ok, Ken Maiuri, make me an NRBQ mix. (When I asked Ken, he replied "Of course! 'Atsa my band!". I thought he was just being a weirdo, but I later learned that he was merely quoting the title of an NRBQ album.)

I think I took both the "Dan" and the "Q" mixes on a Scandinavian tour I did with Don Lennon. How American can you get?

I dug just about all of the NRBQ mix, and took note of the drumming on the second half (the Tommy years).

Wow! What a singular style. Heavy and sensitive, subtle and deliberate at the same time. Not fashionable. Not of its time. It's like Bill Haley's or Buddy Holly's drummers were transplanted to the late 70's-80's. And he could do jazz (or at least fake it real well)! And, wow, I don't think I've ever heard such a SWING! It's the opposite of what's often referred to as the "Mo Tucker"/Velvet Underground beat. It's decidedly NOT machine-like. It tells you "this is a person playing this, and playing it live, and playing it rock solid." It makes you move a different way. It puts an extra wriggle or shimmy in your step. So that's Tom Ardolino? Wow.

He comes from Springfield, you say?

IV: 2004: Watching Q-Mania from the sidelines

Soon after came that A+E documentary which had stars galore singing the praises of NRBQ.

There was a local tie-in to all that too. Northampton-based Spirit House Records was putting out a star-studded NRBQ tribute album, and the documentary could not have been better timed. The "Q" was in the air.

I felt some Valley pride. I felt some guilt too for not having recognized the goodness before. I willfully remained an outsider to the hype, however, because I didn't want to be a Johnny-come-lately bandwagon hopper poser. But I did enjoy the documentary a whole lot. And the tribute album.

Here's Elvis Costello, REM and other celebs talking about NRBQ from the A+E documentary.

V: I Meet Tom Ardolino. And He Indeed Says "Meow".
or
"He's Standing Here, Right In Front of Me"

One evening in 2007-8 I found myself at the late, great Night Owl Records in Easthampton. Most likely, I was checking to see if anyone had bought the latest Sitting Next to Brian CD, Polite. But of course, having made the drive, I stayed and browsed the stacks and chatted with my friend, musical cohort and Night Owl co-owner, Mark Schwaber.
Mid chat, two guys came in, and Mark greeted them amiably. I recognized one of them as none other than Tom Ardolino. I got butterflies and, as usually happens when I see someone famous, I planned a quick exit (this utter lack of shmoozing skills has, I'm sure, deprived me of a few music career opportunities. Damn shyness).

But before I could beat a retreat, Mark said, "Tom, this is my friend Brian. You would love his drumming".
I smiled sheepishly as did Tom. "So great to meet you", I said. "Meow", he replied.
I felt validated.

Tommy A.record shopping. Photo not taken at Night Owl, but a damn good substitute.

Epilogue: Random stuff.

Across the street from what was Night Owl Records, is a famous bar called The Brass Cat. It was there, not long afterwards, that I saw Tom Ardolino play for the first time. He was loud, and in command. Here's a review of the show, written by none other than Ken Maiuri.

Here's something to watch for those who say "I just don't get NRBQ". Because, I've realized, the only appropriate response is to confuse them even more. There's no definitive sound. But, because of that, there's stuff that I like and stuff I just will never like. This, I like. It's not an example of Tom's drumming genius, but just of NRBQ's collective weirdness. Probably a part of why Simpsons executive producer, Mike Scully, loves them so much. NRBQ make great cartoons.

But to go out on a Tommy-heavy note, here's the Q in '92 on the Dennis Miller Show--a good example of that straight/shuffle/swing thing. (and boy, I don't miss Dennis Miller's "laugh at my own joke then call attention to my luxurious hair" shtick).

And finally, if you have 15 minutes to spare, here's a tribute someone lovingly made and put on YouTube. It's definitely a fitting tribute to the man.

As I said on Facebook the day after he passed, I swear I heard a certain swing in the tic-toc of all the clocks that day. Also, all the kitty cats I saw seemed to be in mourning.

Some entertaining filler while I find time to work on 2 big projects...

2012-02-22T12:22:00.000-08:00

Thanks to a couple of sources--This Tumblr site and music friend Erik Alan for sending me down this rabbit hole: Isolated Beatle Tracks on You Tube! (wonder how long they'll last?)

Here are a few highlights:

Paul's isolated vocals on Helter Skelter and Oh Darling.

--Main points:

1) that is some proto-metal screaming right there.

2) The last note of "Oh Darling" sounds exactly like Paul Stanley. Really.

3) George and John singing harmony live, perfectly, pretty much proves that they were angels walking among us. Well, at least that's what they sound like to me.

Helter Skelter:

Oh Darling-

Ok, kids, listen to this and tell me you still think Ringo was a lousy drummer.
(this is how you play a 6/8 beat, rock solid, with some cool-ass fills. Bear in mind, Keith Moon found 6/8 to be challenging).

and lastly, props to Paul's bass playing here on Lennon's "She's So Heavy"

Punk/New Wave Icons Diggin' the Garcia Long After the Punk Wars Ended

2012-02-09T12:19:00.000-08:00

With Elvis Costello, whose praises Jerry was singing back in '78. Mill Valley, CA 1989

With Sting, who the Dead picked to open some shows in 1993. Garcia sat in w/ Sting's band for a few songs.

And, well. here's Jerry when he was a young man. Backstage at the Ark in Boston, April 1969. (and by the way, the three nights the Dead played at the tiny Ark club--April 21-23-- are some of the most raucous they ever played. They proved they could dish back the Boston attitude. Don't let that acoustic fool you).

"The French Girl"--the tale of the tune.

2012-02-01T12:36:00.000-08:00

Do you know the song, "The French Girl", written by Ian Tyson of Ian and Sylvia and released on their 1966 album, Play One More?
Well, apparently the song quickly made waves all around the folk+pop scene. It is indeed a beautiful melody and tells a timeless, evocative tale of an exotic and poetic one night stand/one-that-got-away that any romantic type would fall for (and any songwriter would be glad to have dreamed up).

Lyrics | Ian & Sylvia lyrics - French Girl lyrics

Bob Dylan never officially recorded this song or performed it in concert.
But he did rehearse it, 20 years apart, with two different back up bands that he loved and trusted and who probably shared his love for the song. Here's a mini-doc I made about that, merging the two versions, followed by some supplemental video clips which connect many surprising (and not so) dots.

And now, let's begin the supplemental material with Ian and Sylvia's original (1966):

Here's Gene Clark's lovely version (recorded as a solo single in 1967, unreleased until 1991):

The Daily Flash's equally lovely Version (also 1967):

And now, let's bring it full circle: In 1970, Ian and Sylvia, The Band and The Grateful Dead all took part in the famous Train Across Canada Tour (or whatever it was officially called), documented in the film Festival Express. Both on and off stage, the bands intermingled and generally had a crazy time. The only thing missing was Dylan, who was still more or less hiding out in Woodstock, playing husband and father. (Bonus connections: if you click that Festival Express link, the song you hear is Woody Guthrie's "Goin Down the Road Feeling Bad", which The Grateful Dead played a zillion times, but ALSO, which Dylan and The Band rehearsed in the winter/spring of 1967).

Here's Sylvia Tyson and Jerry Garcia doing a version of the spiritual "Cold Jordan" aboard a train in 1970 (from the film Festival Express).

..and Garcia playing with Ian and Sylvia on that same tour

...and from the same film, Ian and Sylvia covering Dylan's "Tears of Rage", which he wrote, you guessed it, in 1967 during his semi-retirement.

And of course, to connect the Band/Dead dots, this famous clip of the oddest version of "Ain't No More Cane" you'll ever hear. You get a contact buzz just from watching Rick Danko.

Feedback.

2012-01-26T09:30:00.000-08:00

"They loved feedback. First one would feedback, then all of them would be feeding back madly, until the song disappeared beneath torrents of noise. It was like someone tossing a bloody chicken into a school of piranha. Phil would almost be foaming at the mouth, throwing his guitar into his amp. And Jerry would just drop everything and run at his amp, as if he couldn't get back there to start feeding back fast enough....Pigpen hated it."--Mickey Hart

Fictional Album Time Again: The OTHER Best Double Album of 1972

2012-01-24T11:01:00.000-08:00

Garcia+Weir, 1972-San Franciscans in the UK.

Jagger+Richards, 1972-Londoners in the States

In a 1991 interview quoted in Blair Jackson's Garcia-An American Life Grateful Dead lyricist Robert Hunter was asked about why so many of the Dead's early '70's songs were spread widely across a triple live album, and Garcia's (excellent) and Weir's (pretty good) debut solo albums:

His response: "All that material was sort of the kicker follow-up album to AMERICAN BEAUTY ...I
personally would've liked to hear those songs on an album of their own."

(I swear I read somewhere that the album would have been called Ramble On Rose. But I can't seem to track down the source)

Well, were I in charge of such things, I'd have compiled the very album you'll see at the bottom of this post. In fact, I think that Rhino, or whoever is putting official Dead stuff out, should do just that. However, I believe that my idea would end up in the same round, metal "suggestion box" with the foot-operated pedal, that my Nesmith in Nashville idea ended up in.

I think, in many ways, were it released at the time, Ramble On Rose would be considered the perfect west coast American counterpart to The Rolling Stones' Exile on Main Street. What Exile was to claustrophobic, cynical, Jack Daniels n' junk, Euro Decadence, Ramble On Rose should have been to wide open, wild west, coke and acid, American Idealism.

There's a bit of an interesting correlation between The Stones and the Dead in 1972. Both were on creative and chemical highs, and both were touring outside their homelands. But, whereas The Stones tour was a money making machine, with Mick very conscious of who was and wasn't on the guestlist (he wanted to appear equally attractive to the men and women who made up the A-List of both the art and business world--Keith couldn't give a toss, as long as the "tour doctor" was well stocked at all times), The Grateful Dead, by their own admission, were, as a collective, One Big Dumb American Tourist. (or as Garcia stated to Charles Reich, a Yale law professor, and Jann Wenner of Rolling Stone, The Dead are "One Dumb Guy"). The Rainbow Kid on the cover of Europe '72 reflects how they saw themselves. Ugly, loud, attracting the wrong kind of attention. The cliche of how Europeans see American tourists. The people who elicited groans when fellow passengers were unlucky enough to have to sit near them on a transcontinental trip.

This image was not exactly Truman Capote and Andy Warhol being seen on the Stones' private jet.

Would you let your daughter date this kid?

Would you kiss your mother with that mouth?

The Dead were exclusive in a family way ('72 tour)

The Stones were exclusive in a cliquey way. ('72 tour)

And yet, if one was open-minded enough to start a conversation with one of this motley, hirsuite crew, depending on who they were next to, they would likely get quite an education. And not about the price of weed. Phil Lesh was a walking classical, jazz and avant garde music textbook. And Garcia, judging from the many interviews with him that I've read, could expound upon just about anything. And not be bullshitting. They all might be high as kites, but...well, they're like that kid you know in college who takes acid before his advanced physics final and aces it. Then invents something for NASA. Or Apple. No wonder people hate them.

Whether we're talking The Stones or The Dead, these were just cocky, talented, musicians in their mid to late 20's, expressing, in words and music, as well as attitude, what was written in their genetic codes, and selling it to the masses. They grew up in vastly different environments, but had the same influences. A chubby 15 year old anti-authoritarian named Jerry was practicing Chuck Berry licks in San Francisco at the same time as a big-eared, equally rebellious kid named Keith was doing the same in London. They were also practicing to be painters, but preferred the lack of pretentiousness in rock and roll. Making good on these teenage practice sessions, the two men, despite creating hundreds of classics on their own, never stopped showing off their Chuck Berry licks to crowds.

"Johnny B. Goode", "Promised Land", "Let It Rock", "Run Rudolph, Run", and "Around and Around" were all covered by the Dead and "Around And Around", "Bye Bye Johnny", "Carol", "Sweet Little Sixteen" ,"Come On", "Down The Road A Piece", "Let It Rock", "Little Queenie", "Memphis, Tennessee" and "You Can't Catch Me" were all covered by The Stones.

From bedroom to arena--compare/contrast the 20-something Keith and Jerry's Chuck Berry licks. Really, this is where the direct comparisons to these two bands begin and end. So I post these clips not as a "awwwwwesommmme" type thing. Just a compare/contrast thing.

Close your eyes, pretend you've never heard of either band and you can't tell which band spent 2 hours in hair and makeup and which one is led by 2 guys who look like they've come to repair your roof.. They just sound like grown up rock and roll kids playing a song by one of their faves.

The Stones--November 1969, "Carol"

The Grateful Dead--July 1971, "Johnny B. Goode"

So now to the subject at hand.

I've compiled what I feel is an album akin to Workingman's Dead and American Beauty--one that qualifies as just good early 70's singer-songwriter pop rock. No jams, no overly ambitious jazz changes...not too wimpy, not too weird, not too lame. All substance. And, as I stated earlier, a sort of American answer to "Exile".

As stated earlier, these songs are culled from three official sources:

1) Bob Weir's debut solo album Ace (which was really a Dead album) (1972)
2) Jerry Garcia's debut solo album Garcia (which had Garcia playing everything but drums) (1972)
3) The Grateful Dead's Europe '72 (which had many great new songs alongside live oldies...but all the vocals were overdubbed in a studio, so these are almost like studio versions).

It would have been a classic double album, with the only gimmick being the two short, arty Garcia instrumentals that would have begun side one of each album.

This is almost a concept album. Like Elton John's Tumbleweed Connection. There are recurring images of gambling, losing (friends, women, money), escaping from shady circumstances...
And then there's the more transcendent, peaceful, Zen stuff ("The Wheel", "Cassidy", "Bird Song" (which is about Janis Joplin but works as a general statement). At the end, in "He's Gone", after describing a litany of horrible images, the loser figure sings the famous "nothing left to do but smile, smile, smile". (Yet another dark Robert Hunter line that becomes associated with the acid-eating grins of Deadheads mindlessly parroting the lines that look best out of context, on bumper stickers, and surrounded by roses).
And to begin and end, party man Bob Weir rocks it up, screaming his pony tailed head off.
But even these songs are filled with resigned lines like "don't worry about tomorrow--lord, you'll know it when it comes"--which of course, was how these guys--and The Stones, and most big names of the time--were living.

You don't need to have any sort of "Dead Degree" or credentials to like this collection. Really. It's just simply good early '70's rock. The songs are almost an even split of Garcia and Weir, with the edge going to Garcia. Plus, one final tune from Pig Pen (the endearing "Mr. Charlie")

So here's the Spotify Link to the fictional, really-should've-been one of the best-selling, critically-acclaimed albums of 1972, RAMBLE ON, ROSE.

Late For Supper    1:38
Greatest Story Ever Told    3:42
Loser    4:10
Jack Straw    4:49
Ramble On Rose    6:04
Looks Like Rain    6:14
Sugaree    5:55
Cassidy    3:45
Bird Song    4:26
To Lay Me Down    6:18
An Odd Little Place    1:39
The Wheel    4:12
Mexicali Blues    3:27
Brown-eyed Women    4:39
Mr. Charlie    3:39
Tennessee Jed    7:19
Black-Throated Wind    5:42
Deal    3:14
He's Gone    6:57
One More Saturday Night    4:31

Watch Kool-Aid turn into Electric Kool-Aid--Rafelson and Schneider Style

2012-01-24T08:12:00.000-08:00

(Oh god, he's delving into film AGAIN?!)

If you have a few minutes (which you obviously do if you're reading this), check out the various thematic, visual similarities in these two clips. Both are from those legends of cutting-edge American cinema, Bob Rafelson and (the recently deceased) Bert Schneider. (and, though Dennis Hopper and Jack Nicholson weren't involved in The Monkees TV Series, they were hanging out towards the end of it, both for the fun times and research for Head). And yes, I realize that Schneider and Rafelson's roles in each of these clips aren't completely analogous. But they were both involved in one way or another.

Clip One is from The Monkees in Paris. (One of the strangest episodes-- There's no dialog except in the opening and closing scene, which have The Monkees arguing with the director about the monotony of all the show's scripts). Anyway, this episode is grainy, shot on location all around Paris, and features chicks in mini skirts, guys in leather fringe jackets, a slightly druggy, arty, disturbing vibe, and a scene shot in a cemetery. There's no straight up sex (like in the Easy Rider clip), but some implied sex. And it's just FRANTIC.
Of course, it's from a TV show marketed for 10 year olds, so like I say, this is straight up Kool Aid. Maybe with a couple extra teaspoons of sugar for added fun (and a horrible come down, man.)

Clip Two is from the legendary Easy Rider, filmed only two years later, when The Monkees were still around, but as cold as last week's mac and cheese.
More chicks in mini skirts, more dudes in fringe, more grainy, on location shots, more disturbing moods, and another scene in a cemetery. But this time, the Kool-Aid had most definitely been spiked.
And, having read some about the making of this film, Dennis Hopper did his very best to make this scene as realistic as possible. It sounds like he was out of his Feck-in head (get it?). For example, Peter Fonda is really and truly bumming out with that statue. Hopper made him think of some horrible personal stuff while Fonda was in a, shall we say, susceptible state of mind. Nice.
I don't think any one made any one in the Monkees do the same.
So dig.
Oh, hey:
If you have time, watch all of both, and see the parallels. If you're in a rush, go to 8:30 in clip one and 5:30 in clip two and watch each for 2 minutes. You'll hopefully see what I mean. Parallels, man, Par-a-llels-uh!

The Monkees in Paris--1967

Easy Rider--1969

And in case you didn't hit the Head link above, here's the one minute goodie you missed and that ties this mother together.

The Monkees influence on Cinema--part 1 of probably 1

2012-01-24T06:14:00.000-08:00

Here I go, taking an amateurish dive into the big screen. This is a thought that occurred to me just now, at 8:30 am after dropping the boy off at school. Because, you know, not enough sleep, caffeine working its way into the brain, synapses waking up....

Here are two similar scenarios. I'm no movie or TV buff, so maybe I'm way off. Maybe this is the video equivalent of someone blogging that "I just had this revelation that a lot of Ramones songs sound like other Ramones songs".

Anyway, here's a scene from The Monkees episode, "A Coffin Too Frequent". A rather weak episode from the second season.
And I HATE Davy's middle part. You will too.

Unfortunately, this scene cuts in JUST after Mike makes an obvious (to me and any hip 10 year olds that were watching) LSD reference. The evil dude has just told Mike and Mickey, for no good reason, to take a special pill in order for a seance to work (because bands often hold seances in their apartments?). Anyway, Mike replies something like, "Oh, I get it. We take one of these pills and we see a guy come back from the dead. We'll also see lots of pretty colors and things crawling up the wall...".
And.....ACTION!

Something a little familiar (and pretty politically incorrect) about that scene...but political correctness has never been foremost on the mind of.....
MEL BROOKS!

I just realized why I thought of all this. I was in a pharmacy and Taco's "Puttin' On the Ritz" came on.
That used to be my favorite song for a while in 4th grade. have I posted it here before? I feel like I have.

And, I kind of feel really dumb saying this, but this was my thought as I was dancing like a madman in the vitamin aisle: the music in the last minute (say from 3:50 on), sounds a lot like mid-80's Grateful Dead when they would do their disco jams, with the cheesy synth sounds and the envelope filter on the guitar. And no, I'm not going to post an example of that. If you know what I'm talking about, cool. If you don't, that's just fine.
One last thought: "TacoHead".

Advice for New Bands: Don't All Love the Same Music

2012-01-23T10:43:00.000-08:00

I'll always remember the crestfallen look on my long-time close friend and band mate's face when the realization hit him:
"You'll just never love The Moody Blues, will you, Brian?"
I had to be honest. After all, he and I ranked many of the same artists in the highest regard. From The Zombies to Love to The Stooges.
But The Moody Blues...he was right. I just could not get with them. Still can't, honestly.

Well, before I go any further, and if he is reading this (and crying), I will right now list a few Moody Blues songs that I can say I like very very much and wouldn't kick out of bed, as it were:

1) Peak Hour
2) Tuesday Afternoon
3) Evening (Time to Get Away)
4) Voices in the Sky
5) Questions
6) Thinking Is the Best Way to Travel
7) Lovely to See You

So there. That wasn't so hard.

That same person, I was surprised to find, enjoyed listening to Bob Marley. I couldn't rap my head around that. It took me getting into Desmond Dekker, a few years later, to discover early Marley, and then allow myself to get mellow enough to appreciate the slow stuff (this was when you wouldn't catch me within 20 yards of a Grateful Dead album).

So my point is this: If a band forms because everyone worships and wants to be, say, Radiohead, or Arcade Fire or The Clash, guess what you're going to sound like? And guess how interesting that will be?

Did you form a band just so you could get compared to the band you worship?

In fact, it helps if there's even an unspoken (for the sake of keeping the peace) extreme distaste for an artist within a band. That's how new sounds evolve. Or even a guilty, unspoken love for a band. (Holy Christ, imagine if so and so actually was a HUGE Red Hot Chili Peppers fanatic this whole time?)

So, say.... one guy starts playing a bassline that's totally derivative of a Fall song. The drummer, who knows nothing of the Fall, but loves The Replacements, will steer the song in a totally different, but hopefully compatible direction. The guitar player who worships Richard Thompson might suggest an interesting twist. And badda bing.There's an interesting band. (Just don't mention the name "Richard Thompon" to the bassist or he'll ditch the song--and possibly the band-- immediately).

You see, by not forcing one's taste on the others, but just presenting ideas, the whole band can learn.
It's like putting dill in a recipe and not telling the person who you know would never eat it if that person knew it had dill.

I could get totally turned off if I said "bloody great riff there! It makes the song!" Then the person said "Yeah, it's a total Ben Harper rip off". So sometimes it's good not to say anything.

Let's take for example one band I've played with.

School For the Dead is pretty compatible, in that, for example we all like XTC. But...some of us get off on the over produced, layered, Oranges and Lemons (which could also be called Samples and Triggers (sound geek laughter)), and some of us like the sharp, angular, "seal-bark" vocals, full of jagged herky jerky stops and starts of the early stuff like Go 2 and Drums and Wires. Some find that unrewarding.

Let's look a bit more. I hope this is seen as just a fun sociological study and not a way to break up the band. Crikey, we've been together 10 years.

While sometimes compared to They Might Be Giants, only a couple of us would consider ourselves fans. Some have never seen them or ever would even entertain the idea. Some have only listened to an album of theirs all the way through because their high school girlfriend liked it. Some admit a strong distaste for them. Some really like a handful of singles but that's enough.

Some would declare Neil Diamond "boring".
Some would declare Cat Stevens "unbearable"
Some would declare The Doors "the worst".
Some like "Shattered" by the Stones. Some hate it.
Some can't name more than 3 Rush songs.
Some have probably never sat through all of Axis: Bold As Love. Or Zen Arcade. Or Physical Graffiti.
Or Band on the Run. Or Solitude Standing. Or The Head on the Door. Or anything by Billy Joel.

But some have.

Everyone loves The Velvet Underground and Robyn Hitchcock as far as I know?

Most will diss anything Clapton post '74.

Some know more about 80's hair metal than they're letting on.

Some have a hard time not falling asleep to women singing without drums.

Some will say they like King Crimson, despite never having listened to more than two songs.

Some could argue the relative merits of various Beach Boys and Kinks albums for hours, without the help of external stimuli.

One might name their kid Miles after a famous jazz musician.

One would consider naming his kid Elvin for similar reasons. But probably won't.

Elvin would be a great name for a cat, however.

Only a couple of us could name more than 7 Monkees songs.

At least one of us could name 100 Monkees songs, who wrote them and the month they were recorded.

Some can sit through an entire Dire Straits album.
Some can maybe sit through half of a Dire Straits song.

One or two could be happy driving cross country listening to nothing but oldies stations. One or two might arrange for other transport were that the case.

Some grew up on 70's Pink Floyd. Some have never even listened to Dark Side of the Moon or The Wall beginning to end.

Some only like the Syd Barrett stuff.

Some lives were changed when one got some into Harry Nilsson.

One didn't think anyone under 40 listened to solo Paul Simon (back when we were all far from 40)

One could expound for an hour on all the differences between 1969, 1973 and 1977 Grateful Dead and why they sound like three different bands. Then offer to fully demonstrate using an 11.3 hour playlist.

That same person might need some money or medication if made to listen to Phish.

Some may have never thought they'd be in a band where the singer played an acoustic guitar.

Some really like Queen. Some just don't get it. One had to admit that he'd never paid full attention to Bohemian Rhapsody until made to play it for a few thousand people.

Some love The Fall. Some just don't get it.
Some love Exile on Main Street. Some probably never will.
Most love the Beatles.
Some much more than others.

Some might prefer newer bands that sound like The Beatles.

Some might find Buzzcocks much more interesting than The Ramones.

Some might like Frank Zappa? Some definitely don't.

Some might not be able to see what the fuss is about with NRBQ or Steely Dan. Some won't care to try to find out. Some may ask for a mix CD to learn and be eternally thankful.

And yet, whenever we get together, since the first time, we sound like School For the Dead. Crazy, that.

Primitive Noise

2012-01-12T12:57:00.000-08:00

This idea came from two directions. First, I'm always a Yoko Ono defender. There were character flaws, but you can't say that they were any worse than any of her late husband John's.
And I'm not here to start that debate.
I'm only here to show this wicked cool clip. I was made aware of a treasure trove of Let It Be film outtakes through the latest Lennon biography,
His mention of the scene where Peter Sellers drops in was enough to send me hunting on You Tube.
But my favorite thing that I found was filmed on January 10, 1969.
We all know the famous scene where George and Paul have a very quiet falling out (and what band hasn't jokingly said amongst each other, "I'll play what you want me to play or I won't play at all if you don't want me to play. Whatever it is that pleases you, I'll do it". Which is probably the most awesome thing anyone's ever said in response to Paul McCartney's extreme annoying-ness during those sessions.
Anyway, George soon packed up, famously said "See you 'round the clubs" and went home.
Lennon half-jokingly suggested "giving Eric (Clapton) a call".
And to blow off steam. The Beatles, minus George, plus Yoko Ono on the microphone, proceeded to kick out some serious, serious noise jams. Paul's up against the amp, Ringo is moving like Keith Moon, John and Yoko are doing their junkie-artist-couple thing, and what a coup to get Paul and Ringo into it. Check it out. (The only thing I'd be embarrassed about is that Yoko keeps screaming "John, John". I'd be embarrassed if my wife just kept screaming "Brian, Brian!" were I in the same position.)

So, that was for real. What comes next is a creation of my mine.
After reading so many posts on Grateful Dead forums debating the merits of both Donna Godchaux and Ned Lagin, I had an idea. Use the toys on my Mac to make the ultimate duet (strange that it never happened in reality).
First off, my candid opinion of each:

Ned: Though I may not always want to sit through 20 minutes of analog synth noise, I find him to be one of the most fascinating and mysterious characters in the Dead family. That he was accepted (by mostly Jerry and Phil, it would seem, as they still retained avant garde aspirations) is a very cool thing. That he voluntarily erased himself from GD history (as much as possible) is even weirder and cooler. That he was doing what he was doing in front of 30,000 people was way cool. No avant garde electronic noise artiste could ever aspire to that.

Donna: When I was 15, I totally had a crush on Donna in the GD Movie. Then I succumbed to the "Donna Sux" cult, without much thought. A 12 year anti-Dead period followed, and when I delved hardcore back into the band (4 years ago), I reevaluated her. The verdict: she was WILD! That's why the guys loved her! How unfitting would it be if these untrained singers and often sloppy musicians had Emmy Lou Harris with them? Why do you think Joan Baez totally sucked the couple times she sat in with them? Donna was one of the boys! Unpredictable as a Jerry guitar solo (will it suck? will it make us swoon?)

Re-listen to "Cassidy" from ACE or all of Garcia's Cats Under the Stars album. Donna rules!
So I'm firmly pro-Donna now.

Anyway....as I was saying. I made this movie, imagining a crazy, noisy duet between Ned (and Phil) and Donna.
I know, it's a bit of a rush job, but I think it's worth a gander....It was fun to make, and I consulted the Dead forums on Archive.org for some choice Donna off-the-rails moments.

(if you've not taken a look, the intended audience in my Dead-related youtube clips and forums is that of someone who likes a lot of different kinds of pop, punk, classic rock, new wave...but doesn't really get the Dead. My videos are intended to educate a bit. To create a middle ground between the closest-minded Deadhead zealot and the biggest Dead hater. Some have objected to my attempts at humor, but those are exactly the humorless people the jokes aren't intended for.) Anyway,
This video was done as a tribute to the greatness of Ned and Donna, who I think should get a lot more love. Hope you enjoy it at least for a hoot. Again, it was fun to make. Let's hear it for the noise!.

Warlock East, Warlock West. Well hello, Jerry Lou.

2012-01-09T18:58:00.000-08:00

A Tale of Two Mullets in 1989! (but believe me, this post is not really about that. It's just it's..just...WTF? It was a PLAGUE!!! The Hairdresser Community's REVENGE!
Ok. Had to get that out of the way first.)

The following videos may look familiar, but you sure didn't see them on You Tube! They didn't allow them.
I made them last year, only to be crushed by copyright law upon upload.
So, I think I put them on Facebook, which really isn't ideal.

Vimeo, (for now at least) is wicked cool and doesn't flip out if I use 3 seconds of a song.

So here. This is a two part series all about the cultural and musical parallels in the lives of Lou Reed and Jerry Garcia. Neither of whom I can say I love unconditionally, but both of whom I can say have meant a great great deal in my life. Enjoy.

Part One: A Tale of Two Warlocks: The Velvets and The Dead-1965-70.

A Tale of Two Warlocks from Brian Marchese on Vimeo.

Part Two: Lou and Jerry in the 70's, and Those Three Chords

Take a Walk on Franklin's Girl from Brian Marchese on Vimeo.

Beatles With Ill-Advised Perms

2012-01-08T20:08:00.000-08:00

That's all, really, for now.

Greyfolded (say it fast, aloud).

2012-01-07T21:35:00.000-08:00

John Oswald-Canadian Sound Artist

This essay will discuss what, in many ways, is the coolest Grateful Dead album: John Oswald's Grayfolded, released in 1994. It is one continuous piece of music (2 CDs) consisting of over 100 versions of the Dead's signature piece, "Dark Star". There may be 2 seconds of one version, 12 seconds of just one isolated instrument from another version, or 7 uninterrupted minutes of yet another version. There may be a 1971 Phil Lesh playing bass to a 1990 Garcia lead with a 1974 Bill Kreutzmann ratta-tatting away. The vocals (very few and far between) feature multiple Garcia's spanning 20 years. The over all effect is his young voice, but with close listen you can detect a few layers of croaky old Jerry from 1989-92.

JG-No Glasses. 1987

JG-No Glasses. 1969

Some of the coolest moments are when, for example, a 1970 Garcia run seems to perfectly complement something he was playing in 1991. (of course, that '70 tone--an SG through a Fender amp is much more palatable to these ears than the custom guitar, MIDI set up, a zillion effects blah blah...which, to me, took all the life out the entire band's sound. And no doubt cost a fortune. Why couldn't have they been more like Crazy Horse? Well, if one does their homework, The Grateful Dead were always total tech nerds.)
Anyway, Grayfolded...

Here's a movie I made of my favorite track. Vimeo let me upload it. You Tube did not. I may be a convert. Or not. Anyway, watch this and be prepared to be blown out of your beanbag:
(Give this track 90 seconds to take off...then make sure your volume isn't too high. Not many people are aware of this aspect of the Dead)

Fault Forces--John Oswald mixes up some noisy Dead moments from Brian Marchese on Vimeo.

Commissioned by the band, Oswald, the Canadian composer/sound-collage artist, whose work was admired by members of the Dead (he'd remixed Michael Jackson's BAD, which apparently the band loved), knew little to nothing of the Dead's music. He had quite a task on his hands: compile "the ultimate 'Dark Star' out of the hundreds of versions in the Dead's vault. But not with the humor of the MJ project (even though there's always inherent humor in most of what the Dead do...)

Yeah, disturbing, to say the least.

Oswald was given full access to the famous Dead Vault, and brought to the project a total objectivity. He'd never seen the Dead (he did see two sub par shows while working on the project) and had stopped listening to them after 1969's Live Dead. So suddenly having every version at his fingertips must have been a combination of overwhelming, disgusting, addictive and intimidating.

I can't even imagine. I'm STILL discovering versions of Dark Star that make me say "OH! THIS is THE ONE!". Since I've delved in to Dead-land (about 4 years ago), I seem to hear a Dark Star that replaces my old favorite one about once every other month. I could list my faves, but I really don't want to do that. I don't want to know that I did that.

Like most casual Dead fans, my first taste of "Dark Star" was what many still feel is "the one"; the one from LIVE/DEAD, recorded on 2/27/69. And yes, that one will forever hold up. In my teens, I had both a peak and a dreadful experience with that version. The peak came one late night, wearing headphones, staring at the glow-in-the-dark-stars on my ceiling and at the movies behind my eyelids. That's when I got it: "The instruments are talking to each other! Jerry asks a question, Bob makes a joke, Phil comments on it, Jerry answers his own question, now Bob is laughing and Phil getting a bit fed up with the subject and wants to change it....". That was when I feel I sort of "passed the test".
However, not long after, I had a girl over. I thought I'd set the mood with a long, spacy song that could just be in the background. However, she didn't dig it one bit...."ugh! What is this? Take it off!". And the mood was ruined.
And so, my opinion of the Dead was ruined for the immediate future.And that was compounded by college hippies. "The Dead? Hate 'em!"

No bother, all the cutest and smartest girls liked The Cure, The Smiths and Jane's Addiction anyway. I found hippie chicks to be a little too immodest for my tastes. Gimme some knee high Doc Martens over open toe whateverthefucks any day of the week. Still.
But enough about me. Grayfolded.

How does one describe it? I'll kind of sort of try, I guess.

You see these half-assed scans I took?

These are from the liner notes to Grayfolded (Grayfolded is like a slurred version of Grateful...yeah, you got it). And they are visual representations of what the music sounds like. I'm glad Oswald included this. Not only to show the work that went into it, but also, to someone like me, if I hear a particularly cool passage, I can consult the chart--which goes minute by minute, track by track--and say "Oh! 12-01-71 in Boston? Never heard that show! Sounds like just my type of thing!" And then I can seek out that show on some site or blog or what not.
To me, the whole process is fascinating research. And as far as the layering of different versions of things, I have done my own poor-man's versions on a few occasions. Like THIS and THIS. But this, of course, is a major work, using state of the art technology and months of steady, paid work.

To the untrained ear, the average "Dark Star" sounds like this: "deedle deedle noodle noodle wanky wanky crash boom dum dum da da noodle noodle Dark Star something/ space rock lyrics total dork fest doodle dee smoke another, dude, stoner twirly spinny dancer psychedelic space rock..."
And that's...OK. I refuse to get huffy about such relatively unimportant matters. But I will tell you a few factual things.

1) Dark Star started as a 3 minute single. Intro, verse, chorus, verse, chorus, out. This was late 1967.

2) Throughout 1968, it slowed slightly and could be as long as 10 minutes. The instrumentals were largely Garcia soloing over Weir's simple chord pattern, and Lesh doing his usual non-bass-playing (like The Who's John Entwistle, Phil Lesh ignores the concept of "locking in with the kick drum" and goes for the holes, and becomes almost another lead instrument. He's like an invasive weed or climbing ivy).

3) In 1969 it slowed even more, and was allowed to breath and mature. Tom Constanten relieved Pig Pen on organ. This was good, because Pig, as cool of a line as it was, would spend 10-12 minutes repeating the same 6 note pattern. It did make it more like Stereolab or something, but it also made the others seem like dogs straining at their leashes. Constanten was an avant/classical player who played flourishes that would be embraced by any Prog-Art band. Also. the drummers, who, had been spending the whole song keeping a steady pulse on shakers and guiro, were now also opening up. The pulse was still there, but one might do a tom flourish. And of course, Garcia's vocabulary was expanding by the minute. There were stock phrases he'd always incorporate, but often many breathtaking inventions.

While I'm at it: It's funny that in 1988 I was listening to both The Dead and Jane's Addiction, but never noticed this until now: Go to 1:30 and listen to the guitar figure that Dave Navarro starts to play during the middle section of "Trip Away" from the first Jane's album.

Got It?

Now go here and foward to 12:00 and hear what Jerry stumbles into. (By the way, this is the aforementioned definitive "Dark Star" in many people's books. The one where "I got it" and the one that repulsed the girl in my room. It's still great and engaging all the way through.

I don't know, O guitar players: Is this a fairly common figure for "now I'm gonna get trippy, folks" or you think Dave was paying tribute to Jerry? (Remember, Jane's Addiction did an amazing version of "Ripple". which incorporates both "The Other One" and "BirdSong" at the end..)

So 1969 Dark Stars. Truly psychedelic, spacy, pretty, shades of prog-rock. Also, in the spring (I'm thinking 4/5/69 Avalon and 4/22/69 at the Ark in Boston), it could get just aggressive, noisy and heavy in a very 1969 rock way.

3) Late 1969 and 1970 saw some of the coolest Dark Stars that can only be described as "arty". Listen to 1970-05-15, or 9-19 and you'll see what I mean. There will be like full 2 minute periods where you think "did my speakers die?" And then someone will lightly scrape their pick against the strings on the bridge or head of the guitar (sonic youth anyone?). 10 seconds later, a 2 second burst of feedback. Then a very quick mallet-on-cymbal wash. The tension build. The audience is totally silent. Maybe you hear one tripping girl screech in fear. Because it is scary. Like, what could happen next?
Thank God Jim Morrison wasn't there to scream something dumb.
Then someone like Weir will suggest something goofy and light to break up the mood. Like Archie Bell's "Tighten Up" or Paul Simon's "Feelin' Groovy" and they'll jam on that for 5 minutes, before heading back into the main riff and eventually a sung verse.

4) In 1971, they lost Micky Hart, and Constanten, and it was back to the original 5-piece. And Pig Pen still wasn't adding much to the more adventurous stuff, so he'd sit out and wait for a blues song (yawn). So, '71 didn't have many "Dark Stars", but it is very cool to hear what they did with basically a quartet. Many find the 12/31/71 to be among the best ever. Without the distractions and frills, one can hear really the genius of Garcia/Lesh/Weir working as a team. They were all about listening. having a three way chat. "Ensemble Improvisation" is how Jerry Garcia put it, differentiating them from "jazz fusion". Because he knew that none of the players were going to win any virtuoso awards--because they didn't want to be virtuosos. Where do you go from there? So they'd intentionally put road blocks in their way. Try to trick each other, or, as was often the case with many of them, just be so high that your mind plays tricks and your fingers get a different message than what your brain was trying to tell them.You don't know down from up, the one from four beat, or 5 seconds from 5 minutes.

5) 1972-74--It Gets Truly Weird. And long. Keith Godchaux joins on piano, and hits the ground running. He had jazz training, so he knew how to improvise. And what he brought lent a, I dunno, Keith Jarret vibe to things at times. He never took over, and if there's anything to complain about, he'd sometimes parrot a line or two that Jerry just played. I read that this annoyed Jerry towards the end of Keith's tenure, but I notice it all the way back in '72. In '72, "Dark Star"'s tempo slowed down dramatically, and a sort of pattern started to emerge. And this is sort of the pattern that Oswald attempted to emulate in Grayfolded:

--opening riff (a cheer of recognition from the crowd)
--meandering, finding a vibe. Like walking into a crowded room and deciding who you're going to talk to. Or into a forest and deciding which trail to follow. If it was a novel, this would be the first 2 chapters setting up the characters and relationships.
--if it's a good one, there will be many cool ideas exchanged, with some great "dialog" between the characters. But it's usually still a bit reserved. Sometimes, a forceful statement is made--say with a Garcia figure or a restless Kreutzmann flourish.
--Then it's time to wind down and the signature riff repeats a few times.
--Garcia steps to the mic and sings "Daaaark Staaar Crashes...." and we get the first verse and chorus ("Shall we go....)
--Intro again, and then often times, all hell breaks loose. In a truly great Dark Star, this section (between first and second verse) is transfixing. Ideas abound, and sometimes these are ideas that some bands would immediately take note of and remember for future reference. Not the Dead. Like a late night "enhanced" conversation, so many ideas are flying around that no one has the wits to remember them or follow the thread to the end. Sometimes, they will recur in a future version, but what makes a Dark Star fan keep coming back for more is to see exactly what occurs at this section.
--A couple things that have a good chance of happening: In late '72, Phil Lesh briefly introduced what has become known as the "Philo-Stomp" (coined, I think, by the late archivist Dick Vitala). I love this. Phil does this bass chord riffing that is somewhere between a Stones riff and something Peter Hook would do in Joy Division. I SO WISH the band all joined on this in a totally ballsy way. But, being the Dead, Phil is surrounded by some drugged impotents that aren't up to the challenge. If this was, say, LED ZEPPELIN, this would have become one of those awesome head banging riffs they'd go into in the middle of "Dazed and Confused" or "Whole Lotta Love". But instead, Jerry noodles, Bill can't seem to find the "one" and the promise of complete rock and roll satisfaction is dashed. Thus, this section only lasted a couple months.
--One thing that often happened, and never failed, and I could listen to 50 examples in a row is what some call "The Tiger" (credit Deadheads for these goofy names). Jerry's foot is on the wah pedal. He teases with some dissonant scratches. Meanwhile, Bob and Phil start to build a bed of feedback. As it builds, Jerry SHREDS THE LIVING CRAP out of his distorted guitar, with the wah going crazy, going up and up and up and up the neck until he can't bend the strings any higher on the highest frets, and then keeps that going for about 20 seconds, collapsing into Phil and Bob's feedback bed. it truly does sound like stuff Sonic Youth and Butthole Surfers routinely did 10-15 years later. It's the most glorious noise ever. Sometimes Kreutzmann joins in, sometimes he lays out until order is restored. (this type of freakout could also happen in the middle of "The Other One", "Playin In the Band", or even "Here Comes Sunshine". Or sometimes, just on its own.

Watch the last 2 minutes of this clip for the only real video evidence of what I mean. This is relatively tame compared to others (possibly because it was apparently 98 degrees at this show), but it's video nonetheless:

--By then, most everyone is ready to settle into the second verse/chorus and the end. Or, as would often happen, Bob Weir, Mr. Showbiz Clown, would lighten the mood by bringing the band into one of his beloved country covers like "El Paso" or "Me and My Uncle", because no one ever gets sick of those songs, right? (blecchhh). Perhaps it was an old acid trick that I don't understand.

Then the last verse was sung--or not--and the band would segue into something sad and beautiful like "Morning Dew", "Stella Blue" or "China Doll". Basically, after taking you on a tour through the universe, Jerry wanted to see you weep.

So that was pretty much Dark Star as it evolved from 1968-74.

After that, it disappeared until 12/31/1978. (I really don't listen to much 80's-90's Dead) Then a couple in '79, 81...I think one in 1984...then it appeared a few dozen times between 1989-94. One guy on the Dead forum on Archive.org put it best when he said that (I'm paraphrasing), from '78 onwards, Dark Star was like a treasured car that the boys would take for a spin around the block but never dare to cut across 3 lanes at 90 mph while flipping off old couples, and taking the wrong way down one way streets while rolling joints with one hand. No, modern day Dark Stars were safe, kinda boring, Jerry's vocal would be strained and the goddamn fucking reentry after the first chorus was always a train wreck. What's so hard, fellas? Phil does the 5 note lick, then everyone falls in with the riff! You got it perfectly every time from 68-74, and most of you were tripping your faces off!
(Ok, 2 good Dark Stars I've heard from "the modern age": One is fall '90 in NYC shortly after Brent died. It took BRUCE HORNSBY of all people to re-inspire the band. So they do a good one. A year before that, the guys must have got their hands on some primo Miami blow, because they do a Dark Star that sounds like 7 glue-sniffing teenagers let loose in a MIDI convention. It's the Art of Noise 10/26/89 in Miami).

The many forums on Archive.org cover so much ground. And there are some outstanding and thoughtful writers who really know their stuff (there are also a lot of haters and people with shockingly closed minds and argument styles right out of the Limbaugh book. These are the Deadheads that are all about the Sheep Mentality and wouldn't be able to think for themselves if their lives depended on it. Really? Give us a reason why Donna sucks other than that she is a woman? Hey wait, are those racist or homophobic tones behind some of those reactionary diatribes? I mean, at least I could give a few educated reasons why Pig Pen and Brent bore me most of the time. They're bluesy and a bit simplistic and I just think Jerry and Phil wanted the new and the weird to rule the day. But I could also give you many things I love about them).

Wow, sidetrack supreme.

I bonded with "Dark Star" again about 2 years ago when I had a job where I would drive all day around every town in the western half of Massachusetts. I'd download a Dead podcast (Shakedown Stream or The Deadpod--this was after I got my first iPhone, yo) and either dig it or hate it. But one thing I loved was to be listening to a Dark Star for the first time, while driving through, say, Sandisfield or Richmond on a weird-weather day, and feel like the twists and turns in the song were corresponding to the old roads and the weather. It was like navigating through a new universe. I even had a great idea for a Dark Star video game, but 1) I can't design video games and 2) someone else is doing a Dead video game. But mine would have RULED! Let me know, o reader, if you design video games.

And NO I never EVER was on any illegal substances while on the job. I swear on whatever it is you want me to swear on. This is why I like listening to the Dead a) ALONE and b) STRAIGHT. I listen as a musician and I'm either totally wowed or completely disgusted.

I find Grayfolded to go best with driving on a rainy day. Not a passing shower. I mean steady (but not scary) rain. That's just me.
Grayfolded is spread across two CDs. Initially, the first CD, called Transitive Axis was the whole shebang. But Oswald had more ideas and too much good material he had yet to use. So we got CD 2, known as Mirror Ashes, and which branches out into "Dark Star"s cousin, "The Other One" (with its proto metal beat, borrowed by Weir from The Yardbirds' "Little Games" and soon was the official "this is a head banging song" beat. You know the one. Triplets against a 4/4.
Much like I enjoy some Dark Stars more than others, I also enjoy different tracks more than others.
Here they are and why--and yes, for me, like in actual "Dark Stars", it takes about 10 minutes to get anywhere interesting. In this case, tracks 1-3 are "eh". But they succeed in setting up the plot. Use the first three tracks to clean the wine glasses, clear out the bowl, wash the dishes, put the kid to sleep, write an email, whatever. If you smoke weed, spark up in the middle of track 3. Then we get to my faves:

--Track 4) "Clouds Cast"": Because it mainly follows one fairly straight forward 1968 version. Brisk and rhythmic and engaging. And it's the first appearance of the "Jerry Chorus". The phrase "Dark Star Crashes" is stretched (through reverb and echo and stuff) over one minute, and it's EIGHT Jerry's singing in unison: 3 from 1969, 1 from 1970, 1 from 1972, 1 from 1992 and 2 from 1993. Cool idea. And softens the blow of creaky old 90's Jerry.

--Track 5) "Through"--This is mainly some suspenseful, feeling out, cautiously seeing what's around the next corner... which side street to walk down (if we're in an industrial mood) or what trail to take (if on a walk in the woods). We also hear what some have thought was some lost "acoustic Dark Star", but it's really the end of "Mountains of the Moon", the acoustic song that would segue into "Dark Star" in early '69. Jerry and Bob would put on the electrics while Phil and co would continue the groove. It's otherwise a lot of 1971 and 1974, clean toned meandering, with some 1990 at the end. It's a set up for...

--Track 6) "Fault Forces" (the one I did the video for)--you can re-watch, so I won't go over it again. Suffice to say, once again, I'm a sucker for Garcia's "Tiger" freakout.

--Track 8) "La Estrella Oscura"-- this takes us on a historic tour through what became known as the "Spanish Jam". You know. "Bolero", "White Rabbit", "Sketches of Spain"...2 repeating chords, half a step apart. The guys liked to sometimes do this in the middle of "Dark Star", but not exclusively. In any case, this is neat because it shows the very different live sounds in the band in several different eras: --1992--Jerry's got his MIDI trumpet effect, living out all his Miles Davis fantasies. Sounds a bit like drunken muzak to my ears. No real groove or feeling.
--1973--this is verry groovy and inspired. Everyone's listening to each other. Kreutzmann is at the top of his jazz game and Lesh is driving it. Jerry gets into jagged, dissonant chords
--1974--famous version, if I may be such a goddamn nerd. 6/23/74. One of my fave shows. The Dead were at their coked out best. "Inbred" as Bob Weir put it. Phil is out of hand. Overdriven, sticking forceful bass chords wherever the fuck, and Jerry's got that weird distortion that he had in the Wall Of Sound Years.
--1968--lastly, hey wait, I'm about to praise Pig Pen. Because when he just wanted to be a Hammond player filling out the sound, he was great. He's got a great sound here. And of course, there's NO BEATING Jerry's sharp, acidic tone in 1968. It's a close cousin at times to The Velvet's White Light White Heat. It's dangerous. It just wants to be ugly and thus, make you feel right at home.

--Track 9) "Recedes"--ends CD one. It takes us out of that January '68 Spanish Jam and into the telltale "Caution" beat. It's only 1:56 long and basically has Jerry doing some of his fast '68 type runs, while hinting at the "Dark Star" riff. Another "Jerry Chorus ('69-92) sings a bit more, and a very fast opening "Dark Star" riff ends the CD. Kind of like hearing Glenn Miller doing "Kind of Blue".

Disc 2:
--Track 1) "Transilience"--only 47 seconds long. It's a Jerry chorus (all 1969-70) singing "..the transitive nightfall of diamonds.."

--Track 2) "73rd Star Bridge Sonanta"--this track is an anomaly for two reasons. First off, it's all from one performance--the famous 2/13/70 at the Fillmore East. The Dead always loved NYC because they knew the audiences there would let them know if they sucked. So they always brought their "A Game".
Second of all, Oswald took a few favorite passages and floated them in and out of the track, sometimes adding an effect (tastefully) So it's not a straight reproduction of 2/13/70's Dark Star. It's the 13 minutes between verse one and two, during which Garcia, Weir, Lesh and the drummers operate SO WELL together. So psychically. So, about that title: It's a play on "59th Street Bridge Song", by Simon and Garfunkel. Because Weir starts in on that progression, Lesh follows and Garcia plays (kinda) the melody. They did this a few times, but this is the most famous. It only lasts a minute, and goes into several other ideas.
(Do you know The Who's Live At Leeds? Wouldn't you say that The Who were doing their own version of this kind of thing back then? Townshend spacing out, everything going quiet, everyone exploding, riff-o-ramas etc? Different bands, obviously, but similar idea, I feel).
One last thought. Anyone who disses Bob Weir, please listen to this track. He is contributing a lot. Chord-wise AND rhythm-wise. He had about 5 excellent years--1969-74. Then his tone gradually got lamer and lamer and you could still hear good ideas, but the tone was barfburgers.

Track 4--"The Speed of Space"--I'd forgotten about this one. What's the theme of it? Oh yes. It's mainly mid-late 1972, with some 1974. When the Dead were doing their version of "fusion".
I don't like fusion because I really don't need to hear a group of virtuosos jerking each other off and then giving each other sticky High Fives. Sorry if that's totally insulting. It's just not what I'm in it for at all. The Dead doing fusion was more like "Holy Fucking Shit! Look what happens when a jug band who took too much acid starts to play 150 concerts a year together! We end up with dozens of top notch conventional pop rock songs, AND the ability to play together fearlessly! Without any real goal but to satisfy ourselves!" And what does that sound like? It sounds like rockpopnoisecountryballadjazzfusionavantgardebluesprog.
Like Jerry said, "The Grateful Dead is no one's idea of what a band or what music should sound like". There was no leader. No one wanted to be told what to do and so no one told anyone what to do.

Anyway, this 72-74 madness starts to give way to some more modern tones, and the hint of the riff re-enters. A crowd cheers, and then another "Jerry Chorus" sings the whole second verse/chorus. Once in a while a 90's Jerry is isolated and you can hear the young Jerry still lives in the old emphysemic croak. (truth be told, I've heard some '94-95 Garcia that shows that he must have either gotten nodes removed or just cut down smoking). The best part of the end of the last chorus in the old days was Phil's countermelody. Very cool. Why'd he have to go and wreck his voice? But that last minute is a great hyperspeed time warp. And prepares us for.....

Track 5) "Dark Matter Problem/Every Leaf is Turning"--which is all about Bob Weir's "The Other One", a song they never stopped doing. It starts with about 30 Bill Kreutzmann's banging out the drum intro, out of sync with each other. The effect? Sitting in your car during the most frightening hail storm. Then a distant gun shot (Pig Pen and Micky Hart were fond of firing cap guns during quiet moments).
So then, a great mix of "Other One's. No words. Just some great moments (from 68-73) which blend together magically. A bit of feedback and are in an exhillerating climax (of "Cauton) from 2/28/69. It's not just "rocks in relative Dead terms" (which I am well aware of), it rocks in all that is rock and roll terms. Then back to some more '69 "The Other One" which--kind of a downer--goes into a limp late '78 Garcia lead, with a 1990 Weir rhythm track (ugh!) with Phil's '69 bass remaining (yay!).

Now what happens is muy interesante: a collage, from many shows, of the opening notes of songs that The Dead would meander into once "Dark Star" had imploded: "St Stephen", "Stella Blue", "Wharf Rat", "Eyes of the World", "Morning Dew"...probably more that I'm not hearing.
If you haven't guessed, I'm sort of "live blogging". But the advantage is that I can go back and re-listen to a moment if I missed it. But trying to be as live as possible.

So now...finally (and Jesus, I'm sorry this turned into such a beast. I need to shower after this. Or have another beer.)

Track 6--"Foldback Time": From 67-69, every Dead show would end in ear splitting feedback. Maybe for 12 minutes, maybe for 2. Maybe until the hall cut the power. I kind of hoped this track would kick out the jams and be a "best of feedback". But Oswald is too kind. There's some feedback, but there's a lot of MIDI strings, like a John Williams score coming to an end. The last thing you hear is a couple tinkling piano keys, and according to the chart, I believe it's Brent. Fair enough.

And bloody long enough. I won't bore you like this again, I promise.

There They Go, Walking Down the Street (and Into the Sunset)

2012-01-05T21:03:00.000-08:00

The Three-kees. 1969. Photo by Henry Diltz.

Last month, Rhino Records thankfully continued their line of Monkees Deluxe reissues. Some have been "meatier" (ugh, I hate that term, but it works here) than others. The Birds, The Bees and The Monkees was hands down the best so far, in that it captured the band still on a popular high, while on a creative high (and yes, some of them were often just plain high). I won't go into it, as I've already written about it on this blog. Suffice to say, it contains many a goodie.

Last year's Head reissue was...well the good parts are really good. So I won't get on the "rip-off!" train that some have chosen to board. I love hearing any live Monkees, and while I wish there was more, I do still enjoy the sloppy-as-hell Salt Lake City '68 tracks. I also love hearing what just may be Nesmith and Nilsson playing together on the alternate/extended version of "Daddy's Song". And Peter's demo version of "Do I Have to Do This All Over Again" sounds like a great Nuggets track. Or like something off the first Moby Grape album.

But I'm here to write about the latest release: 1969's Instant Replay, the first Monkees album released after Peter Tork quit the band. Not a good move on Tork's part in retrospect, but he really wanted to get out of the Monkees scene, and in on the next phase of the Laurel Canyon/Groupies and Dope scene that was being born under his nose (or rather, on his patio). Crosby, Stills and Nash were starting, Neil Young was buzzing between them and a solo career, Hendrix and Buddy Miles were jamming...And Peter was partying and playing with all of those cats. So, he reasoned (and why not?), "I'm leaving this sinking Monkee ship, in which I've not been emotionally invested for a while, and, using my recent enormous popularity, I shall ease into the new hip underground. I've got the connections, I've got the musical chops, I've jammed with the best dudes, slept with the best chicks, and in six months I'll be rocking at the Fillmore with my new band."
So what happened? Sadly, not much. He got a band together, Release. His girlfriend played drums. They recorded a demo in NYC for Atlantic, and no one bit. Tork has no idea where the demo is today (which sucks! Who wouldn't want to hear it?).

Peter Tork and/or Release. 1969.

Dick Clark tells a story in which Peter called him up after he quit The Monkees and said "you know how you presented a Monkees tour? Well, I got a new band and we wanna tour!". And Dick Clark said "um, well, that's not how it works. You're kind of so two years ago" I'm not sure if Release played many gigs or if they just hung out and got high. How about some quickie research?

Peter and Girlfriend/Drummer Reine Stewart, 1969-70

"You are too a hippie!"--Peter Tork

According to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peter_Tork:

"Striking out on his own, he formed a group called 'Peter Tork And/Or Release' with girlfriend Reine Stewart on drums (she had played drums on part of 33⅓ Revolutions Per Monkee), Riley "Wildflower" Cummings on bass and - sometimes - singer/keyboard player Judy Mayhan. Tork said in April 1969, "We sometimes have four. We're thinking of having a rotating fourth. Right now, the fourth is that girl I'm promoting named Judy Mayhan." "We're like Peter's back-up band", added Stewart, "except we happen to be a group instead of a back-up band." Release hoped to have a record out immediately, and Tork has said that they did record some demos, which he may still have stored away somewhere. According to Stewart the band were supposed to go to Muscle Shoals as the backing band for Mayhan's Atlantic Records solo album Moments (1970) but they were ultimately replaced.^[4]^[5]^[6] They mainly played parties for their "in" friends and one of their songs was considered for the soundtrack to Easy Rider, but the producers - who had also produced Head - eventually decided not to include it.^[7] Release could not secure a record contract, and by 1970 Tork was once again a solo artist, as he later recalled, "I didn't know how to stick to it. I ran out of money and told the band members, 'I can't support us as a crew any more, you'll just have to find your own way."

So there went Peter, off to supposedly greener pastures. Unfortunately, he ended up selling his prime Laurel Canyon real estate (to old buddy Stephen Stills, with whom he had been a starving folkie in Greenwich Village just five years previous), from which he was asked to stay away when The Rolling Stones were staying there in November 1969. That is some primo back stabbing assholery right there. I'd drink to oblivion too, Pete.
Of course, at that point, Stephen Stills was on the rock elite A List, where he would stay throughout the 70's. And Peter was about to become pretty invisible for the next 15 years, until he re-emerged, sober and prancing the stage with Dolenz and Jones, in the worst 80's pastels.

So, the Instant Replay (and later, Present, which I do hope Rhino releases-- it's a more even album from later in '69) chapter is a chapter told without Mr Tork. (and no, I won't go into his one vocal appearance on the boxset--"I Prithee" from the 33 1/3 TV special, because it's painful. It's included only as his final official Monkee session. He DID play some great harpsichord in that show's finale, but it's not included here).

So...what kind of band did The Monkees become after Peter left? Umm, they became a band only in name. They were more like 3 fledgling solo acts who told somewhat lame jokes sometimes.

According to some quotes, Mike Nesmith was ecstatic after Peter left. There are many unflattering Nesmith quotes in which he doesn't mince words about his dislike for Peter. For example, in Hit Parader in February 1972, Nez said "I don't like Peter Tork. Never have liked him. I don't like him as a man..and I probably will never like him. I didn't enjoy playing in a band with him, and I still don't".

Well, that's gotta hurt too. I think the liquor store's still open, Pete.

He does go on to say that Peter "did a lot of wonderful things for and to me" and attributes his dislike to a "very visceral attitude". Truth be told, in 1972, Nesmith was on a creative tear while also going through a divorce (just listen to the excellent And the Hits Just Keep On Coming, which I see as Nesmith's Blood On the Tracks).

Speaking of tracks, I've once again gone way off them. 1969! Monkees! Instant Replay!

Ok. Tork's gone. The film Head flopped beyond belief. Rafelson disowned them, despite both Nesmith and Tork asking about contributing a song to Easy Rider. Teeny boppers were growing out of the Monkees, and older fans could care less about what the dudes were doing.

Even their famous friends (Beatles, Hendrix, Mamas and Papas etc) were inching away because The Monkees, nice and talented as they may be, were collecting dust on the discount rack, and were being marked down from $2.99 to $.49.

What to do?

Try whatever you can and see what sticks. So they tried the following:

"It's our CSN bag! Which way to Woodstock?"

Ready for the Electric Power Trio Set. Or not....

They did only exactly one appearance as an acoustic trio, on The Johnny Cash Show.

The Johnny Cash Show. 1969.

They did a wonderful CSN style version of Nesmith's "Nine Times Blue", but then had to go and ruin it with some embarassing-as-hell comedy schtick and talk about what "long haired freaks" they were.
(um, in 1969, those three were pretty friggin' tame in the music world. Have a look at The Grateful Dead on the Hugh Hefner Playboy Hour, from the same time. Or The Doors on The Smothers Brothers. All early '69. Or the muddy, still-tripping, direct-from-Woodstock clan that invaded Dick Cavett later that year. Them thar were freaks).

Here's the lovely song. This was left off the Johnny Cash Show DVD and that really kind of makes me angry. No justice. Cash loved The Monkees, for reals.

So that appearance didn't stop the world or get them a call from Bill Graham to open for The Flying Burrito Brothers.

Nesmith also was quoted at this time as saying that he thought The Monkees' future lay in "adult comedy" a la Laugh In. This may have been the seed for his 1980 "Television Parts".
And it did seem to maybe be a smart way to keep the band afloat. I mean, at least Mickey was totally crazy and Nesmith was dry and witty. Perhaps get them on Laugh-In!

With Goldie Hawn on Laugh-In. 1969

Well, that went Ok....but still didn't seem right. They may have been a bit too on the side of "stoned musicians" and not enough on the "cutting edge comedy". Though how cool is Nesmith with his beard and shades?

Well, then. TV commercials. For Kool-Aid. It's back to kids-ville, but maybe a certain kind of wink-nudge, "Hey, Kool-Aid! Get It? Look how happy we look! Psychedelic!" vibe would resonate with the older teens.
But again, no one really felt like caring.

On the set of a Kool-Aid Commercial.

They also did other appearances, like on The Tonight Show, the Joey Bishop Show and Hollywood Squares. But none of it was happening. Simply put, without good writing, they didn't come across as particularly funny. Especially as a trio. If they wanted to get back on the radar, they had to deliver some serious musical goods. And that was no guarantee either.

So what did the world get with Instant Replay? They got a serious mish mash which shows just how quickly pop music had evolved in three short years. In fact, arguably THE three years in which pop/rock evolved the fastest. And to their credit, The Monkees were on top of it, and changed with it. They just changed in three completely different ways.
Instant Replay contains a handful of songs that were recorded for The Monkees first two albums.
I hate that fact. It's like Crosby Stills and Nash putting "Bus Stop", "Go and Say Goodbye" and "Lady Friend" on their first album (Hollies, Buffalo Springfield and Byrds songs respectively).
It's jarring and stale and lame. Especially because all three Monkees had dozens of current, unreleased, quality songs in the can. (the one old song I dig is "I Won't Be The Same Without Her", which would have made More of The Monkees a lot less of a crapwich). But Instant Replay really would not have appealed to too many people. It's spread way too thin.

As for the new songs, well, now we're (mostly) talking.

Dolenz wrote two winners: "Just a Game" and "Shorty Blackwell". The first had been worked on in 1967 for Headquarters. He described it as a "modern rock song" in the studio chatter. But it was unfinished. By 1969, under the spell of Harry Nilsson, Dolenz gives the finished song a feel that wouldn't sound out of place on Harry's Ariel Ballet.

"Shorty Blackwell" is....where to start? I've always said that, had Brian Wilson wrote this, there'd be BOOKS about it. "What was he thinking? Why this chord and not that chord? Was he barefoot?"
I also see it as the grandfather of Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody". Think about that next time you hear it. Dolenz was a lazy songwriter. He wrote 5 great Monkees songs and said "that's enough. Let's smoke". "Shorty Blackwell" is a master work. It's insanity. I'll get to the alternate version in a bit.

Davy Jones: As always, there are Davy songs that I can only imagine appeal to 95 year old women in nursing homes. They disgust me, frankly. "Don't Listen to Linda"? How about "DON'T LISTEN TO THIS SONG? EVER!?"

However, this album has Davy's shining moment. His contribution to HARD ROCK '69, and a very perceptive insight to The Monkees' sinking ship... I speak of "You and I".
Great great tune. Starts with Neil Young's decapitating riff. Really. It'll chop off what ever part of you that is sticking out closest to your speakers. Later, plays a very Neil solo, and I always picture him doing that herky jerky head/torso bob (you know the one, Neil fans!) as he repeats the three note figure at the end of the solo. And again, the alternate mix is rad.

Mike Nesmith: winner and reigning champion....well, how could he NOT be? "While I Cry" is just a wonderful, maudlin song that has the advantage of not sounding like 70% of Nesmith songs from this time (he found a new progression! and when that happens, amazing things happen!)

There's also "Don't Wait For Me". Ok, good tune. One of the 9 tunes from the Nashville sessions...but perhaps the most strained. It's still a great song. But it's no "Crippled Lion" (one of the most beautiful songs Nez ever wrote).

I read in reviews from the time on THIS AWESOME SITE THAT YOU NEED TO CHECK OUT that on tour, Nesmith would do this song solo acoustic. I do wish I could see/hear that. Unfortunately, not many people bothered with documenting the '69 tour. Or even attending it.
Follow that link to see.

So yeah, then they toured.


Davy, in suspenders and no shirt, appears to be ready to pass the doobie.

It seems to have been all about partially-filled stadiums, and strange Vegas-like performances.

Rolling Stone finally decided to write a story on them, and probably because they knew that their '69 Oakland show would be a sad site. The writer is sympathetic, and The Monkees all seem to be aware of of their dead scene. Poor guys.

So, The box set....

What to say. Once again, like with Birds and Bees, if The Monkees were in complete creative control in 1969, this could have been a much hipper album. Not visionary, per se, as Birds and Bees COULD have been. This is like 3 distinctive dudes walking in three directions. Davy and Mickey wanted nothing to do with pedal steels. Mike steered clear of Vegas. Mickey....was visiting other planets, bars and weed dealers.

I've prepared a Spotify mix at the end that presents a different and hipper story than the semi-limp album that Colgems released in 1969.

Kudos to Andrew Sandoval for presenting the entire Nesmith Nashville '68 sessions, even if he didn't listen to my advice about how to go about it (yeah yeah, I know I'm just another revisionist nerd with no industry power...still, I woulda done it.)

So here's my Best of The Instant Replay Box Playlist, with some commentary and a link to the special Spotify playlist for your listening enjoyment. I've divided it into chapters, if you will...

Brian's Best of The Instant Replay Box:

I: 33 and 1/3 Television Special: This was The foursome Monkees' last gasp. A TV show that was supposed to be "far out", with guests like Brian Auger, Julie Driscoll and Buddy Miles. Instead, it veered between chaotic and lame. The best parts were Nesmith's solo bit and the first 3 minutes of the "Listen to the Band" finale (before 100 people start playing at once, and not at all in a cool way). I did not include Peter's song, "I Prithee" because it's just not good. I know he'd stopped caring, but if he wanted to go out with a splash, he could have like done a sci fi jam with David Crosby and Paul Kantner.

What I did include was Nesmith's awesome "Fuck You!" to Donnie Kirshner, "Naked Persimmon", and a few Nesmith-produced backing tracks to the show's songs. They are in fact MUCH COOLER without vocals. And I alsways love Nesmith's voice giving orders in the control booth. In "Goldie Locks", his contempt for the cheesiness of the song is wrapped in humor.

1) Wind Up Man (Backing Track - Take 1) 1:10

2) Naked Persimmon    2:36
3) Darwin (Backing Track - Take 2)    0:52
4 ) String For My Kite (Version 2 Backing Track - Take 1)    1:14
5) Goldie Locks Sometime (Backing Track - Take 4)    3:30

II: Best songs from the original Instant Replay release. Remastered and sounding GREAT!

6) Just A Game 1:49

7) Don't Wait For Me    2:41
8) I Won't Be The Same Without Her (Backing Track - Take 1)    3:58 (I put the backing track because, doncha know, Mike broke the rules and had Peter Tork play guitar on this song. Not sure which of the 4 guitars, but I'm gonna take a guess that that is him noodling around before the take. He does a lot of that type of noodling during the Headquarters sessions. Possibly trying to impress the session pros.)
9) While I Cry    3:00

III: Alternate takes/mixes of songs from the Instant Replay Album that I think are superior.

10) Through The Looking Glass [Fuzz Guitar Vesion - Mono Mix] 2:50 (WILD HENDRIX-ISH LEADS played by ???)

11) You And I [1968 Rough Mix] 2:26--great multi-layered harmonies. Gives a, what, Vanilla Fudge vibe? Heavy man.

12) Shorty Blackwell [Alternate Stereo Mix] 6:15--Coco Dolenz is more apparent and it over all is less jarring than the original album track.

IV: Nesmith's Country Session in Hollywood with Red Rhodes on Pedal Steel, Chip Douglas on bass and Nesmith on acoustic and electric guitars.

13) Carlisle Wheeling [Alternate Stereo Mix] 3:17

14) Nine Times Blue (Backing Track Take 6) 2:22

I put the vocal-less version of Nine Times Blue because 1) how many times do you need to hear that song and 2) it's always groovy to hear Nez pickin' away. And this was the seed of his life long musical relationship with Mr Rhodes.

V: Nez in Nashville! Refer to my aforementioned post. Suffice to say, this in itself, especially with 2011 mastering, makes for a great EP. If the world only knew what he was up to. This was all happening as The Byrds were making waves with Swetheart of the Rodeo. ("Don't Wait For Me" was also recorded in the Nashville sessions, but I put it rightfully with the Instant Replay original album tracks).

15) The Crippled Lion [1968 Stereo Mix]    2:50
16) Don't Wait For Me [Alternate 1968 Stereo Mix]    2:35
17) Good Clean Fun [Mono Mix]    2:19
18) Hollywood [1968 Stereo Mix]    2:17
19) How Insensitive    2:32
20) Propinquity (I've Just Begun To Care) [1968 Stereo Mix]    3:21
21) Some Of Shelly's Blues [1968 Mono Mix]    2:30
22) St. Matthew (Alternate Vocal)    2:48

VI: Davy Steps Out and Gets Down! Davy was working hard trying to establish himself as a "Broadway Rocker" for the Neil Diamond et al crowd. The 9-5ers who were smoking grass on weekends but still dropping their kids at school each day. This also should have happened, but didn't. Shame, because these are all good songs. "Smile", like "You and I" has Neil Young on guitar.

23) Smile [1968 Mono Mix] 2:24

24) War Games [1968 Mono Mix]    2:51
25) Party [1968 Mono Mix]    3:07
26) Look Down    2:51
27) Changes [1968 Mono Mix]    2:36

28) Someday Man 2:42

VI: Mickey Trips Out! Only two songs from Dolenz. The first would be scrubbed clean of the more objectionable lyrics. The second would emerge on Missing Links in 1990. I always loved disco dancing to this song in my dorm room. Shut up. It was fun. You try it.

29) Mommy And Daddy [1968 Mono Mix] 2:27

30) Rosemarie (Alternate Stereo Mix) 2:36

VII: Random:

"Saginaw" was slated to be a sort of Nesmith-does-Glen Campbell-doing-Jimmy Webb, but it was never released. They lyrics aren't weird enough anyway. But I enjoy playing and singing this on the acoustic every once in a while. Especially because I don't have any illegitimate kids to feel guilty about that I had with a 17 year old. It's a lovely song.

"Sidewalk" was the TREASURE of the boxset in my book. An instrumental, rearranged version of this already great song. It has that 60's Hollywood feel that the best Brian Wilson instrumentals have. You must hear it. It makes me very very happy.

Lastly, "That's What It's Like.." is a backing track to a great sounding Davy Jones/Steve Pitts song that never got any vocals put to it. This was the same session that Neil Young showed up for, but he wasn't on this track.

31) If I Ever Get To Saginaw Again 2:45

32) My Share Of The Sidewalk [Version 2 - Mono Backing Track] 2:51
33) That's What It's Like Loving You (Backing Track - Take 1) 3:04

So that's that! A scattered album, but this playlist is nothing if not rewarding and enjoyable. So reward yourself by enjoying it. As you would with a pizelle or a flan.

A Couple of Pics that Could Go With More Than One Of My Posts..

2011-12-23T15:48:00.000-08:00

The Beach Boys-1966

The Grateful Dead-1966

In the Cantina and Out of the Can: The SMiLE Sessions

2011-11-03T19:55:00.000-07:00

My history of Smile:

Late autumn of 10th grade (1988-89), I was submerged in all things 1965-69. Mostly, things that involved fuzzed out guitars and cool haircuts. Thus, I didn't know much in the way of the Beach Boys, but kept coming across things in books and magazines about the amazing Pet Sounds and the mysterious Smile saga. But where to seek these things out? No one I knew liked The Beach Boys. I was a little embarrassed to check stuff out of the library.
Oh wait, there was that one kid who seemed to love only oldies and especially The Beach Boys. Maybe I'll ask him. Yikes. I never really talked to him before. But this was important.

Indeed! He had Pet Sounds. He lent it to me, and on a cold and desolate suburban adolescent night, I suddenly had a good reason to not do any homework. Huh. Jeeze. This was incomparable to anything I was listening to. More sophisticated, and yet not "up its own arse". It was sad and beautiful. It didn't leave my tape deck for weeks.
I told my sister about it, and that Christmas, she gave me this excellent book:

Ho. Lee. Cow. Really? Really! So, so, SO much information. (Bummer alert: this is another book I lost in a fire, and now it's like $150 at Amazon. GRRR!!!!) All in 'zine copy-machine style. Old articles, interviews, new pieces and interviews, amazing photos...all documenting, in real time, the story of Smile. I had to hear it. I asked the same kid, and lo and behold, he had a smile bootleg. Pretty bad quality, but I got the picture (I have very awesome memories of bootleg listening back then. The warbly cassettes I'd buy at record shops made things seem more mythical. I remember a live Traffic concert tape from '67 that made them sound literally like they were elves playing atop a mushroomy misty mountain. Anyway...)

I then rented The Beach Boys: An American Band and learned a few things:
--That emulating the young Dennis Wilson's drumming--the spirit, not the technique--would be a good idea.
--That I would wear an orange turtle neck and white cords with pride. And I did. The jocks sneered. Victory.
--That there was a lot more to learn about The Beach Boys.
--That there was a lot I didn't need to hear.
--That the more wholesome the band tried to come across, the more disturbing they seemed.

Also, my sister and I liked to laugh and imitate Brian Wilson circa '76. laying in bed talking about Phil Spector. "Phil Spector. Whoo!" And also how he says "When I took the LSD..." (in that sort of way people use to imitate a square. "Don't try the pot, kids!" But Brian's not trying to be funny. Or maybe he is?).

But mostly, I watched the same 30 or so minutes over and over. Pet Sounds to Smile. And especially the "Surf's Up" clip. Now, I've never been a big fan of piano-driven pop, especially when there's no drums. But this wasn't pop. This was....indescribable.
Watch for yourself:

SURF'S UP--1966

Some time later that year, I wrote one of my first ever songs and ripped off the phrasing from the first part of "Surf's Up", and threw in a reference to the Grand Coulee Dam (from "Cabin Essence"). I didn't know how to play piano or write songs or even sing, really (I was a drummer and lyricist only). So of course, I base my first ever song on "Surf's Up" (??). I guess I was looking for an excuse to fail right off the bat. My songwriting partner tidied it up a bit, while not knowing the Beach Boys influence.

Here's that:

Prince Makeshift

So, Ok...fast forward to 2004. I'd made a lot of music, I'd made a lot of Beach Boys fan friends, most of whom are musicians. I'd heard a lot of good Smile clone jobs: Dukes of Stratosphear, Apples in Stereo, High Llamas, etc etc. Though most just make me want to go back to the real thing. Then the real thing--Brian Wilson-- announced that he was going to re-record and release Smile with his back up band, The Wondermints. This was cool, and I bought it and dug it. But...
It was not a listening experience that I wanted to return to. When you know Smile as done by angelic voiced 20-somethings at the top of their game, it was a little disconcerting hearing 60-something Brian, his voice long ago ravaged by waaay too many cigarettes and waaay too much cocaine, as well as 40 years having passed, singing those same words.
Again, it just made me want to go back to the original.

So thank god, and thank you Brian and Al and--am I really saying this?--Thank You Mike Love for getting over all the squabbles and hang ups and scars and lies and insults and allowing the real SMiLE Sessions (because it truly never was finished) to be remastered and released.

I bought the 2 CD set, because, well, I think that's enough for now. And it is a lot. And it is all amazing. It arrived yesterday.

I'm wearing the pin today.

I'll start this review by discussing two reviews I recently read:
The London Guardian likened Smile to "...a psychedelic experience Hendrix wouldn't understand, but Don Draper might." You may know Don Draper as the protagonist of the excellent television program, Mad Men, about the Manhattan advertising big shots around 1960. The review also mentions that Brian sounds "terrified" when he asks the other Beach Boys "you guys feeling any acid yet?" in the middle of the "Our Prayer" rehearsals (he doesn't mention that Carl replies "I feel great".) The review is overall favorable, and acknowledges that Brian Wilson was "way ahead of everyone else".
But to those two excerpts, I will reply: The world today shows that Don Draper and co won the revolution. They bought Hendrix's (and Marley/Morrison/James Dean etc) image and put it everywhere. They don't really mean much. Don't believe me? Look at the t shirts at Target. See how many Hendrix or Lennon YouTube comments you can read before someone's calling someone else a "faggot" or spreading Christian propaganda. Right. You've really learned from listening to these artists. It's safer being a Don Draper because it's easier to be subversive and not attract attention. They watch the artists walking on the edge, and if they fall, they buy their legacy. Thus, a midwest football team owner plays one of Jerry Garcia's guitars with his buddies on weekends because he could afford to buy it on auction. It's sick, but it's how it is. (Wow, did I just lay down and admit defeat? No. I'm still on the artist's side. How could I not be?).
Anyway, I think SMiLE exists neither in Hendrix or Don Draper land. (If you want Don Draper, listen to the Capitol Records industry ad hidden track!) In fact, it represents a world that existed in the combined young, twisted minds of Brian Wilson and Van Dyke Parks. Van Dyke wrote amazing lyrics that conjure so many images, so many worlds, at once. Brian's music and, most of all, his vocal and instrumental arrangements dress these lyrics in the most unique, innovative, multi-multi-multifaceted music that represents someone thinking 1000 ideas per minute and actually able to get a good percentage of them across to his bandmates and the session players. (Listen to "Smile Backing Vocal Montage" and you will hear more ideas in these snippets than most people have in a career. More about that later).
These music and lyrics together are like an altered state where your senses are all firing at once and you're hearing and thinking the most amazing otherworldly ideas--but only if you have the wits to somehow get them down on paper or tape, they're lost forever. Brian and Van Dyke were thinking and hearing these things while in the studio, and luckily had the musical and vocal support to bring them to life.
And, back to the Guardian review: I don't think Brian sounds "terrified" when asking about the acid. He's in the middle of arranging the miraculous "Our Prayer" with the Beach Boys, teaching them which harmonies to sing. He sounds calm, together, in his element. They pretty much all do. Only when Mike Love briefly turns one of Brian's instructions into a cheesy song is the calm disturbed. You can feel everyone cringe. The mellow officially harshed. Right after that, Brian says "You have any more of those hash joints, Danny? I know you do" (Danny Hutton, later of Three Dog Night, who ran with Brian's posse). Acid, hash...So, Brian was maybe a little preoccupied by drugs.

But more importantly, those few seconds--Mike trying to lighten the mood by reminding the guys of surf-pop and Brian asking for more hash--pretty much tell the Beach Boys tale for the next decade or two. See what I'm getting at?

The other review comes from the Los Angeles Times, which gives the Smile Sessions 2.5 stars and says that the collection lacks "...the flair for pop economy that helped turn the Beach Boys into icons. (Wilson) more skillfully balanced inspiration and aspiration elsewhere.".
In the words of Mark E. Smith: Hey there, Fuckface.

Yes, and Sgt Pepper didn't sound like With the Beatles. Missing the point just a tiny bit, aren't we?

I wonder if the writer listened to what I found to be the most amazing listening experience of all (and believe me, it was all an amazing listening experience. Do it on headphones. Yes. Do.)
The track is called "Smile Backing Vocals Montage" and was compiled just for this collection. I won't be able to do it justice with words, but suffice to say (I think these are all in it. My head's still sort of swirling from all this new info):
1) it gave me new found respect for the other Beach Boys--they are giving it their all, and many of these arrangements are worlds away from anything anyone had ever dreamed up. Brian took them into his warp-speed carnival of a mind and they did exactly what they were told.
2) Brian's vocal ideas are just...just...holy crap. Ok, an example: Laughing down a satanic-sounding scale in 4 part harmony (Vegetables). Umm..I'm at a loss. That is just mad genius. I can't list it all. You need to listen and discover. But I'll throw this other one in..
3) In "Wonderful", I always thought that there was some kind of brass--trombone perhaps-- doing the counter-melody in the later verse ("farther down the path was a mystery.."), but it's MIKE LOVE! Now there was a non-annoying use for his voice. Who knew?

If there's one (one) one (one) (sorry) piece on Disc One (the tracks slated for the SMiLE LP) that I'd say is a bit much, it'd be "Look (Song For Children)". I dunno, I just don't love it.

THINGS TO LISTEN FOR ON DISC ONE or If there's a heaven, I would like to have a loop of the following playing, because I just think that they are among the most beautiful and engaging pieces of music ever recorded:

1) 4:18-4:30 of "Heroes and Villains". God, do I love those 12 seconds and wish they went on for 7 hours.
2) The first several seconds of "Barnyard". A rare instance of a guitar as lead instrument. Cool-ass tone.
3) The cello intro and final 50 seconds of "You Are My Sunshine" (this is not a diss to Dennis, who sings the rest of it)
4) "have you seen the Grand Coulee" bridge of "Cabin Essence".
5) Every damn second of "Wonderful" and "Surf's Up". The whispered refrains on "Surf's Up"? I never heard that before! How did they find things to make that sound even better?
6) I love "Holidays". It's 50's-early 60's Los Angeles to a tee. Not that I was there. But I'm real glad not to hear the "new" vocals on it that the 2004 Smile had. That was kind of lame.
7) The last minute of "Wind Chimes". Actually, no. All of it.

So, bonus stuff...and yes, I'm sure I'll be searching for someone who got the whole box once I officially want more. But for now, I gots plenty to chew on. Some observations:

1) session bassist extraordinaire Carole Kaye seems like a real cut up in the studio chatter. Brian even has to tell her to settle down. At some point there seems to be some "blue humor" in which "fingering" has more than a musical meaning. Me, I have no idea what they're on about. But I guess if you're "one of the guys" you gotta adapt.

2) I have always loved "He Gives Speeches", ever since my friend Tony Westcott gave me a Smile bootleg 10 years ago. And it's way better than the dumb song it evolved into ("She's Going Bald").

3) As my friend and fellow rock blogger at Born To Rock and Roll wrote to me, "Surfs Up '67 might take the cake.". He might be right. It's a solo piano version, crystal clear and heart wrenching and life affirming, and 100% perfect. In every goddamn way. If you just download one track, download this. It will shut up anyone who just doesn't get the fuss. That is, if they have a heart. If I was Brian, and I was told that this was just "ego freakout music", I'd have a nervous breakdown too. Oh, Mike Love, I'm sorry I went and wrote one of the most miraculous songs ever in the history of music. I'll get right down to writing "Do It Again" next week. Happy?

4) Heroes and Villains- The "Children Were Raised" is the band getting the insane "bom bom bom" bits just right. And again, you gotta doff your cap. Or raise the white flag. Or roll out the red carpet. Or roll a hash joint for Brian. "Part Two" taught me that Al Jardine sings one of the most distinctive parts. I must say, I often have a hard time telling when Al is singing lead. His voice has elements of all the guys. Except Dennis. You can always tell Dennis.

5) "Cabin Essence" without vocals stands as a breathtaking and modern/avant garde piece of music. I want to listen to it again and again. I want it played on every PA of every show I go to. And every waiting room I wait in. And in Stop and Shop.

6) I'll stop here: the "Vegetables" and "Fire" sessions--and the others--show Brian telling the Wrecking Crew (session musicians) exactly what to play and how to play it. "Don't play the high D", "Don't hit the cymbals that hard" etc. Every last detail. I remember in the "American Band" video, Carl, in a 70's clip where he's wearing a sun visor on the beach, recalls Brian's ability to hear one note or sound that he didn't like when 25 people were playing at the same time. Carl seems either jealous or sad. Or both.

And that was that. Because this super baby was never born, because some of its uncles (ahem, Mike Love) hated and cursed the baby while it was still in utero, because Brian was a sensitive artist who retreated and masked his heartbreak with drugs instead of telling Mike to fuck right off, Brian agreed to abort it. He never regained this kind of control. He never even wanted to have it again.
This is all starting to make sense. There is so much damn guilt and shame attached to this project. The boys went along with Brian for a while. Apparently they even abandoned the clean image and shared his drugs to see what it was all about. Then something snapped and suddenly it was "cut the shit, Brian. This is garbage. We need hits." Poor Brian spent the next 35 years, convinced that they were right. "Smile was me on drugs. It's ugly music. It's inappropriate. It shoudn't be heard". And the Boys were all "poor Brian, what happened?". YOU are what happened. If they had allowed Smile to be released, and Brian's ego and psyche wasn't stomped on, who knows?
With this release, he's getting the last laugh. Justice is served, a bit too late to save the world, but enough to hopefully blow a few thousand minds, old and young.

The Beach Boys and Kinks 1967-72: Honest Outsiders

2011-10-18T13:35:00.000-07:00

Well, well. It's Kinks season. Greys and yellows and leaves gathering on the ground. Tea and sweaters and darker beers. The mindless idealism of summer giving way to a firmer grip on reality. The body and mind slow down just enough. This is the time that poetic realists like Ray Davies, Lou Reed, Paul Simon and others come in handy if the chill is getting you down. They will keep it real and yet whimsical in a way that doesn't mean losing one's grip on every day things. (Granted, this season also goes great with the trippiest of the trippy: Syd Barrett, Incredible String Band, and anything from 1966. In fact, in my mind, 1966=autumn. That's just from a guy who wasn't born yet.)
It's also getting to be, for me anyway, Beach Boys season. I got into the Beach Boys via Pet Sounds and Smiley Smile and Sunflower during my 16th autumn/winter. No cars, bikinis or surfboards on these songs. Instead, a somewhat...no, quite bizarre outlook on things, which really just mirrored the strange reality that The Beach Boys knew.

You know what might be the coolest thing about Jim Morrison? In his official Elektra Records Bio, filled out in 1966 just before the first Doors album was released, he lists his favorite bands as The Beach Boys, The Kinks and Love. Now that is quite cool. He wasn't going to take the easy route of The Beatles/Stones/Animals/Dylan. In 1966, Love was, as we all know, the Coolest Band In California, by far. And probably tied for Coolest Band in the USA (hard to beat the Velvet Underground).

The Beach Boys and The Kinks? In 1966, both were at very interesting points in their respective careers.

They had both spent 1964-5 charting huge hit singles and albums, which insured that their faces would be all over the teen magazines and on TV shows, and that their gigs world wide would be filled with screaming girls.
They both had siblings in the band, with one (Ray Davies in the Kinks, Brian Wilson in the Beach Boys) handling the lion's share of writing.
Both Ray and Brian were sensitive, thoughtful types who were evolving into young, eccentric geniuses (more on that word later) more and more with every single.
Brian suffered his first nervous breakdown on tour in 1964, and gave up touring--though would do the odd concert with the Boys for the next couple years. Instead, he stayed home and wrote and recorded material that was many levels above the average pop fare. That he tempted fate and added copious amounts of drugs to his already fragile psyche made for an interesting and world-changing catalog of songs for about two years, but this was followed by a long and sad decline.
Ray Davies, following his muse while the accountants, lawyers, family and pop scene were barking orders, also suffered a nervous breakdown, and stayed home for for a period in early 1966. Luckily, as far as I know, he didn't dabble with substances that would have possibly turned him into another young casualty. Instead of a steady decline, Davies began a period of creative and emotional ups and downs that pretty much have lasted his whole career. But the English realist/fighter in him has never completely let others take over his image and thoughts, like Brian Wilson let happen.

So, 1966. Imagine a bridge with a few different types of young folks standing a few feet from its entrance. You have:
1) those who idolized and screamed at The Beatles 2) folkies who worship every word written by Dylan. 3) the slightly "looser" youth, Stones fans, who were not scared of Mick and Keith and Brian.

Now, this bridge is a bridge to psychedelic adventure, to mind expansion, to "the future" and to a music scene which was going to start changing incredibly fast every 6 months.
What do you do? Are you on the bus or off the bus?
--Some kids went for it. They were ready to go wherever the musical visionaries were going to take them.
--Some Beatles fans decided the Beatles were getting too weird and so got off the bus and maybe got into The Monkees (who themselves were getting weirder by the month--thus, my case for The Monkees being the most subversive act of the 60's.)
--Some Dylan fans wondered: Why the big hair and mod suit and yellow skin and slurred singing and inability to tune an electric guitar and "war" and "poor" becoming "rain" and "pain"? They soon wouldn't have to worry, but these folk purists ditched Dylan and anything with an electric guitar. Maybe they found Leonard Cohen or Pentangle. Maybe they found Donovan (see: Beatles fans turning to the Monkees). Maybe they went back to Woody Guthrie.
--Some Stones fans thought: I can't get down and dirty to "Have You Seen Your Mother Baby Standing In the Shadows", and turned to John Mayall or something.

Watching all this were the few and proud who knew that their boys in The Kinks and Beach Boys weren't about to play this game. They were confident enough in THE POWER OF SONG, REGARDLESS OF FASHION to be second guessing the future.
It's hard to find people who stuck with The Beach Boys and The Kinks through thick and thin, through the psychedelic maelstrom that left each band struggling to sell a fraction of the records they were selling two years previous. In 1967-69, The Beach Boys and The Kinks released SO MUCH good music that was regarded as CRIMINALLY UNHIP.
"Hip", in a lot of cases, meant "LIMITED SHELF LIFE" and "UNLISTENABLE".
"Unhip", apparently meant "DESTINED TO BE INFLUENTIAL FOR AT LEAST A HALF CENTURY".
Because, you see: Vanilla Fudge and Canned Heat and Jefferson Airplane were hip.
WHO HAS BEEN INFLUENCED BY ANY OF THOSE BANDS IN THE LAST 35 YEARS?
No one worth while that I can think of.
Whereas, WHO HASN'T BEEN INFLUENCED by PetSoundsSmileVillageGreenWaterlooSunset? Almost no one I know. That's my tiny twee sheltered pop world view. But it's the view I like.

I won't say that the psychedelic/hippie thing totally passed by The Kinks and The Beach Boys.
See for yourself (each band in 1970):

However, by 1970, even some politicians and high school principals and weathermen and baseball players were sporting hair longer than The Beatles in 1964.

Now, there are certain parallels between The Kinks and Beach Boys, but they are more coincidence than pertinent element. But let's go through and sort them out.

The Kinks had Ray and Dave Davies;
The Beach Boys had Brian, Dennis and Carl Wilson.
In each case, THE MAIN SONGWRITING BROTHER (Ray Davies, Brian Wilson)=MENTALLY ILL=GENIUS=UNCARING OF MUSICAL TRENDS=ENDLESSLY INFLUENTIAL.

Yes, I use the term "genius" haphazardly. It's subjective, highly abused, and not a scientifically proven term. However, it's a safe bet that these two are something approaching "genius". You can't write "Surf's Up", "Busy Doin' Nothin'" and "Til I Die" and NOT be a "genius". Nor can you write "Waterloo Sunset", "Animal Farm" and "Shangri-La"...

I use "mentally ill" not disparagingly, but as a matter of fact. Brian Wilson is a diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic and manic depressive. Ray Davies is bipolar. Like many many artist/creative types, this is what set them apart and made them appear to so unselfconsciously marching to their own drum.
Too, they both looked to the old greats--their parents' music--for inspiration. Porter, Gershwin, Sinatra etc. Not exactly controversial, edgy stuff. But neither of them were interested in being on the front lines of youth rebellion. Can you imagine Ray or Brian shouting "We Want the World and We Want It Now!" or "Up Against the Wall, Motherfucker!" More like "I want a comfy chair and I want it soon!"

Where they differ is in the areas of self control. Ray Davies is a master at it, and is often portrayed as a neurotically selfish, controlling cunt by his brother Dave (I can use that word when paraphrasing Dave Davies, can't I?). Thus, Ray often reminded everyone that he was the leader of The Kinks. He was the songwriter, singer, arranger, genius, face and voice. He begrudgingly let little brother Dave have a song or two per album, and sometimes mixed the songs behind Dave's back so as to not appear to be as attractive as the other 11 Ray-penned songs on the album. Dave fought back for a while, but as the years went on, he decided to give up and let Ray wage his war with an imagined enemy.
Sure Dave's songs are sometimes the "skip over" song on Kinks albums, but really, one can't deny "Death Of A Clown", "Strangers", "This Man He Weeps Tonight"...
Dave was the party guy. He lived the 60's-70's rock life that Ray never did (or was ever cut out for). In his book KINK, Dave relates having vomited on a groupie's head while she was giving him head.
Now that kind of wins the gold medal for rock lore. He also talks about how too much acid led him to a strange breakdown which led to a long fascination with searching for evidence of extra terrestrials and a whole New Age way of thinking.
Ray, beyond booze and his pills for depression, was not a drug experimenter or a believer in the unknown. He liked his control and didn't want to compromise it. He was a young husband and father who liked being at home and celebrating old British traditions ("roast beef on Sunday's alright!")
With this need for groundedness, he's enjoyed a fairly consistent output of songs for the last 40 years, has always appeared to be a suave, intellectual, slightly eccentric rocker--with only one real public meltdown--but you'd break down too if your wife and kids left you on the eve of a big festival show.
Then again, there's always been a strange facade to Ray Davies that is much more indicative of a writer than a rocker. Only the best writers can make you believe that their life is one way, when really that's just the characters they create. With Ray, it's hard to tell. Sort of like Woody Allen saying "no, I'm not the neurotic, sex crazed, therapy junkie that appear in most of my movies. But I'm very comfortable writing from that point of view". Some would say otherwise. At that point, the casual fan just says "screw it. I like his work and I'm glad he has shared his gift with the world and enriched so many lives and really I don't care if he's really popping Xanax every half hour as he gets into another fight with an ex". (how did we get onto Woody Allen? oh right. neurotic geniuses.)

So, Brian and his brothers. Not so clear cut. Not at all.
Whereas many people will describe Ray Davies as a control freak with a severe lack of compassion for those who have cared for him--except when it's convenient--, it's safe to say that Brian Wilson has let his LACK of control and INABILITY to control his surroundings be his downfall. Thus, his mental illness completely consumed him. Also, he was surrounded by so many people who wanted a piece of his genius, that he just lay down and led the feeding frenzy begin until he emerged a non-productive, obese, shell-shocked, raspy voiced, multi-viced man who bore no resemblance to the guy who could write no wrong from 1962-68.
This has probably been said before: but couldn't one argue that the cocktails of legally prescribed meds that Brian was given in the 80's were what turned him into the somewhat zombified person we see today? I mean, in the Brian Is Back days, sure he was big and raspy and it must have been shocking for those who expected the angelic voice, but also he seemed human. Right? I mean, watch this:

He's got comedic timing, seems confident..much more human than he's seemed since the mid 80's.
I'm not sure what the preliminary stages of his "comeback" were, but in 1976, there wasn't so many psychiatric pills that no one knew exactly what they'd do after a year or two. I know he was running, eating healthier and, as he told Mike Douglas, when asked "are you off drugs?", responded "well...I'm off cocaine". I believe Dr. Landy, before going WAY overboard with chemical cocktails, allowed Brian to have a hit of weed once in a while. But whatever.
Perhaps it was LSD. Ray Davies knew his mind enough to know that acid would be a huge challenge to his delicate mental state. Brian Wilson was ready to try anything, any time. In 1976, he did sum it up nicely (paraphrase): "Everything I'd ever be or not be, I came to grips with and learned to face (on LSD)". People have described Brian as a big child, not at all intellectual. He wouldn't read books but rather take a few sentences of some pop-psychology theory he heard and rave about it for hours. Then drop it forever instead of attempting to investigate and learn more. Like a child hearing something an adult says and then repeating it over and over without even knowing what it means.
So, lack of control, lack of self-knowledge...that's the big difference between Brian and Ray.

But what did Brian Wilson have that Ray did not? Unconditional love from his brothers. You never hear of Carl punching out Brian or Brian kicking Dennis in the crotch on stage. All you hear about with Ray and Dave is fighting, bickering, swearing, things breaking...
Brian, Carl and Dennis loved each other and never said anything but the nicest, most complimentary and supportive things about each other, through thick and thin. Probably because they all endured their horrible father's mental and physical abuse together and had an understanding that it messed them all up in various ways.
Now, the other Wilsons...
If we had to stick to this model, I suppose both Dennis and Carl had elements of Dave Davies--just in turns, at different points in their lives. Carl was the lead guitarist, but that's about the strongest point for his case. Oh, and in 1970 he started looking like a total hippie for a couple years.
But Dennis was always the ladies' man, like Dave. He was also the total party animal and was up for whatever, whenever with whoever (including Charles Manson). He also wrote some songs that, in low doses are absolute life-affirming treats (like Dave Davies, Dennis Wilson could come up with one or two absolute gems for a band album, but couldn't really sustain it for a solo album. Yes, I'm saying I don't think Pacific Ocean Blue is as good as everyone says. Not one of the songs is as good as "Be With Me", "Little Bird" or "It's About Time").
Sigh...
I'm getting very off subject, I think. I started this entry 2 weeks ago, got totally hung up and returned about 6 paragraphs ago. What, indeed, was my point?
Oh Yeah.
So during the period in question (1967-72), both bands saw their popularity fall drastically and then build back up as people realized "Jesus...I'd MUCH rather hear what Ray Davies has to say than Jim Morrison. And The Beach Boys sing harmony much better than The Airplane" (though Mike Love was and is and always will be, a CREEPY GUY).

Unfortunately, it was the BEST of the best that saw the absolute nadir (chart and sales and "hipness"-wise) of both bands. Something Else By The Kinks, Village Green Preservation Society and Arthur sold poorly. As did Wild Honey, Friends, 20/20 and Sunflower.
These albums also coincided, more or less, with each band not really touring as they once had. The Kinks were playing dinner theaters in 1968 and had been banned from playing the US in 1966 (a mysterious union disagreement). The Beach Boys were touring France and Czechoslovakia and the Southeastern US.
Their saving grace came from a select few underground rock journalists who never gave up on the music, could see most psychedelia and heavy rock for the one-dimensional thing that it was, and incessantly raved about each new Kinks and Beach Boys release. Eventually, some readers caught on. By late 1969-70, both bands were hitting the road again, and reacquainting themselves with "the new rock audience". They don't scream. They listen, they dance free form, they smoke pot, they watch light shows, they don't mind if you tune...and they want you to "put out", as some would say.
Each band was...not terribly equipped to the task. They were the old dogs learning new tricks. Of course, The Stones and The Who and John Lennon could pull it off because they could always rely on attitude.

You could check this out, if you like to download bootlegs:
The Kinks Live At The Fillmore West, November 1969
What you'll hear is The Kinks trying to be "Heavy, man". Ray is shouting too much. Dave's guitar is PIERCING and they attempt to "jam" a few times. Now I know not everyone likes Jerry Garcia's guitar style, but if you take a 3 minute Dave Davies solo vs a 3 minute Garcia solo from November 1969, it's sort of like hearing a 4th grader tell a story, and then a professional writer tell the same story.
Don't get mad: I'll turn the tables.
Dave Davies could come up with the most exciting 12-second solo in his sleep. His best solos are a kick in the arse. A dose of adrenalin.
Jerry often stumbles a while before getting in the zone. It's rare to hear a blast of sheer adolescent "in and out" playing from Garcia that Davies excels at. Jerry gives you the foreplay, sets the mood, etc.. What? Jesus Christ. Now I'm getting sick. But really, it's an apt metaphor. Check out that show.

Did you think I brought up Garcia for absolutely no reason? No. Because....
The best example of The Beach Boys on the hippie rock stage comes from a show they did in 1971 at the Fillmore East with....The Grateful Dead.
How is it? Much has been written, so I'll be brief.
The Dead are in their second home--NYC. It's their crowd. Bob Dylan was watching. The Beach Boys were in the midst of a come back. Unfortunately, they also did awkward things to try to appear "with it" and it's just not flattering. Whereas the Dead wouldn't bat an eye at some nude dancing happening on stage, or being dosed by surprised, and pretty much react to any adversity with "hey man, be cool", The Beach Boys are kind of painfully nerdy.
On one hand, there's Bruce Johnston (pretty sure), who seems very uncomfortable and out of place. He keeps apologizing for even being there. Apologizes for tuning. Apologizes that The Dead aren't playing. Then he says (in his squarest delivery) "We're grateful there's something called the Grateful Dead, because (voice rising dramatically) THEY'RE ALRIGHT! (then forced "do I sound stoned?" laughter) Yeaahhhhaaalright".
Then there's Mike Love, who, during the "gotta keep those love good vibrations happenin'..." part, rambles a story in his "mellow guy" delivery about being "all stoned and drunk" hanging out with Buffalo Springfield. What? FOR CHRIST SAKE, MIKE. THEY BROKE UP IN 1968!
Plus, we don't want Mike's obnoxious piercing fake theramin during "Riot in Cell Block 9".

But I'm gonna stop being down on this gig. Because Bruce Johnston, scared nerd, pooping his pants at all these hippies around him, meekly asks the audience "how about a car song?". Which is just fucking hilarious. And then The Beach Boys do "I Get Around" and it RUUUUULES!!!!!! And that's the best part of the show.

The other highlights come from the collaboration of the two bands. Both bands sound like they're having a blast on "Searchin'". Pig Pen and Carl Wilson (or Al Jardine...can't tell) duet. What is with this song and strange combos? I also have a version of Doug Sahm, Leon Russell and Jerry Garcia doing it. A good mindless jam, I guess.
Then there's a version of just The Beach Boys with Jerry Garcia doing "Help me Rhonda". The Beach Boys decided to do it "as if it was a new song" and play it "Dead Shuffle"-like (think "Deal" or "Truckin"). Jerry follows along OK, but takes a bit to grasp the Brian Wilson twists in the verse chords.
The finale is also good. Both bands doing "Johnny B Goode". Carl Wilson (I think?) and Bob Weir singing in unison on the verses. Jerry takes the solo, and he could always pull out some good Chuck Berry licks in those days.
And there's this!

If you wanna hear the whole show, I recommend THIS LINK. You gotta get past the first 3/4 (just Dead) of the show. The collaboration starts with "Searchin'" and goes to the end. Unless, of course, you want the whole Dead show. But I don't think it's anything spectacular.

So....here's the real real payoff.
A playlist. On Spotify. 80 songs of soul cleansing, beautiful, under appreciated in its day....
Ladies and Gentleman, The Beach Boys and The Kinks in their Golden Age. Dig.

Kinks/Beach Boys golden age

Where Have I Been? Good Question. I Have a Good Answer.

2011-09-30T10:23:00.000-07:00

                                                              I got married.


                                                              Meet the Wife.

Brian and Beth at the Dream Away Lodge, Becket, MA. September 25, 2011.

I'll be back with a piece about The Kinks' and Beach Boys' "high quality/low sales" periods (roughly 1968-71). I'll examine the whens and whys and all that.

In the meantime, if you'd like to hear some of the music that Beth and I have written and recorded, you can stop, look and listen HERE.

Summah '83!!!! (Summer, 1983)

2011-09-06T19:11:00.000-07:00


The author at Age 10, Carl Thomas Memorial Field, Noth Andover, MA. Spring 1983.

Finally, nostalgia for something I actually experienced! (well, the Pixies/Sonic Youth tribute was in my lifetime too...but that's adolescence. What follows here is safe, snug childhood)

This post had to happen sometime, so it may as well be now.
If you were lucky, you had an age that you look back upon when everything seemed perfect. The world made sense, and what didn't make sense filled you with wonder. You felt safe and secure, and yet were perhaps experiencing your first taste of independence.
For me, that's 1983. For 11 months of 1983, I was 10 years old. I was in fourth grade, and just learning to like living in New England, after not really enjoying my first year (we'd moved from California in 1981).

I played in the North Andover Youth baseball League (Little League, for all intents and purposes) and was drafted in the first round. I was sooo psyched when the coach called to tell the news.

In any case, I never really thought much about 1983 until a few years ago, driving to the Cape for a gig with, I believe, The Aloha Steamtrain. I had a complete flashback to driving to the Cape with my parents and sister, and was compelled to yell out the window, "SUMMAH '83!!!!" which then sort of became the band's rally cry for the rest of the weekend. And has become a phrase that occasionally rears its head. It signifies the ultimate in freedom and happiness. You kinda need to be able to understand the significance of the eastern Massachusetts accent. I.E. "Summah".

So, let me pay tribute to that magical summer of sitting in the back seat of the LeBaron, hearing these songs, watching the people in passing cars and wondering what being a grown up was gonna be like.

Little did I know being a grown up would be all about reminiscing about childhood.

Here, cats and kitties, is a selection of my favorite songs from that magical time, when Ronald Reagan was every child's creepy grandpa and the Red Sox were always in 4th place.

TACO-Puttin' On the Ritz

Shannon-Let The Music Play

The Human League-(Keep Feeling) Fascination

Journey-Faithfully

The Pointer Sisters-Automatic

Men Without Hats-Safety Dance

Eddy Grant-Electric Avenue

Come Dancing-The Kinks (my Mom thought this song was "cute". My sister Alyssa explained to me that this was by an old band who also wrote "Lola" and "You Really Got Me". I felt educated and intrigued....)

Thomas Dolby-She Blinded Me With Science

DeBarge (YES!) All This Love (why can't I find the original video?)

And that's about the ride home from Salisbury Beach back to North Andover.
Hope it rocked your tubesocks.

Reed and Cale, 1970-71--Scoping out the youth scene.

2011-08-18T11:15:00.000-07:00

"What's this, The Bee Gees? The Band?"
No, it's John Cale from his solo debut.

"What's this, Steely Dan? The Dead?"
No, it's Lou Reed from his solo debut.

THESIS STATEMENT:
At the time of releasing their debut solo albums, neither Lou Reed or John Cale were the cult figures they would become. They, in fact, were largely unknown by the record buying public, and thus, didn't take too many artistic chances on these albums--they were only trying to fit into the current rock music fabric.

Back to two of my favorite themes: Alternate History and Level Playing Fields.
These are the two manipulative (THOUGH FACT-BASED) devices I like to employ not only to keep things interesting (for me at least), but also confuse the reader into seeing my way.
These are the things I use to convince you that Mike Nesmith and Jerry Garcia traveled parallel roads, but just never met up. Or that The Velvet Underground were as much of a jam band as the Grateful Dead were a noise band. Again, I produce all the facts. I'm not saying "Donnie Osmond was a junkie".
I'm not lying to you, or deceiving you. I'm just trying to reprogram the conventional wisdom that was set in stone by "the winners (or Wenners) in the world".

Here are some fuel for what keeps me going:
--While Jann Wenner is single handedly keeping The Monkees out of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (though, really, who gives a fuck about that sham of a museum?), his one time cohort, Ben Fong Torres gave Michael Nesmith's work plenty of positive praise.
--While many a Lester Bangs fan may be able to quote some anti-Dead rant, they know not of his having written the words "In spite of everything, and I can hardly believe it myself, I am a Grateful Dead fan" (his review of Grateful Dead aka Skullfuck aka Skull and Roses. 1971)
--Because SPIN Magazine's Record Guide gives XTC's catalog pretty much a raw deal beginning to end, there is a sizable percentage of young music fans out there that will never give them a chance--or if they do hear them, they'll have a shitty pre-conceived notion. Whereas they'll pretend to love The Fall, even if they secretly can't stand them, and will never admit this until they're laying naked with a lover at 4:30 am after also admitting that they are frightened of H&M dressing rooms.

So....level playing field, alternate reality....imagine that David Bowie quit show business after the limp success of his "heavy hippie" album, The Man Who Sold The World. And that was that. He'd be remembered for some campy singles ("The Laughing Gnome" etc) and two innovative (and totally awesome), psychedelic rock records which were largely unheard outside Europe.

No re-inventing Lou Reed. No record-buying public rediscovering The Velvet Underground. No Glam Rock Revolution. No Stooges after two albums. No Eno, Roxy Music, T Rex (in his post hippie guise), no disaffected youth forming their own bands in the 70's (Joy Division, The Fall, etc) or 80's alternative bands owing everything to the Velvets (Jesus and Mary Chain, Dream Syndicate, Feelies, Yo La Tengo, Galaxie 500).Sure, there were the underground journalists praising White Light White Heat, and FM DJs occasionally giving "Sweet Jane" a spin, but no monster cult was being built.

Huge, right? I really don't want to know a world like that. At all. I don't want Glenn Frey, Jackson Browne and Stephen Stills to be calling the shots in the 70's. That's gross and makes me feel suicidal.

Sure, I like The Grateful Dead, BUT because I like what they bring to the party. I like hummus AND peanut butter. I like IPA AND Stout. I like shaving and not shaving. Point being, I like hearing "I'm Set Free" next to "Wharf Rat" and don't want to live in a world where one doesn't exist or where one isn't allowed to be heard. I want both.

And for the record, I don't really like the Allman Brothers all that much except for "Sweet Melissa" and "Blue Sky" and maybe one or two more. Difference between The Dead and the Allmans--the Dead never posed naked together. And oh yeah--the Dead (or Garcia and Hunter) wrote 50 great songs that are just fine without any jamming or solos. And enjoyed noise-- and I like the juxtaposition of music and noise.

Anyway...put yourself in mid 1972. Music is changing, but where's it going? You're 21. Maybe you should stop caring. Maybe you love CCR and The Stones.
Maybe you used to like The Doors but Morrison's death confirmed that he was just a scary dude. Maybe you love McCartney's solo albums but can't get into Lennon's (though you don't say this in certain company). Of course you love George's stuff.
Maybe you've learned that James Taylor and Joni Mitchell will get you laid even though you'd rather hear Randy Newman--who will NOT get you laid.
Maybe you've had psychedelic revelations while listening to Marvin Gaye and Traffic back to back for 18 hours and bought a dashiki you've never worn.
Maybe Bob Dylan is totally off your radar after his last couple albums.
Maybe you liked a couple Monkees singles when you were 14 but have no idea that the guitar player has released 5 great solo albums while you weren't looking.
Maybe you have a housemate that listens to Pink Floyd all the time and you just can't understand why--but envy the caliber of female action he seems to get as he cranks up 23 minutes of "Echoes" and that's the last you see of him or his date until the following afternoon.

But here's a safe bet: unless you are a rock journalist or FM DJ, you (or your housemate) most likely do not own either of these albums:

It's 2011. Have you heard these albums?
They are, respectively, the solo debuts of Velvet Underground founding members, John Cale and Lou Reed. John Cale's debut is entitled Vintage Violence and was released in the spring of 1970. Lou Reed's debut is self-titled and was released two years later.

There's a good chance you haven't heard these albums, and also a good chance (let me know when I'm being more condescending than informative) that perhaps you thought Paris 1919 (1973) was Cale's solo debut and Transformer (late 1972) was Reed's. Those albums were when they hit their stride, yes, musically, in style, and found their place in the fabric of the times--i.e. as outsiders from artsy backgrounds who, thanks to Bowie and Lenny Kaye and Lester Bangs, were now being seen as guiding lights--when just a year before, they were looking for such a light.

How funny (he says, slipping into an orange robe) that so often, the guiding light for which we search in life is within us.

Ponder that with me for a second....(Buddhist bell rings). *

* I truly believe this.

Ok. Back to these albums.

These two albums require nothing but a love for rock and roll. Sort of like Nesmith, with his cursed stigma (teen-idol? no way!) Lou and John entered their solo careers kind of like the new guy on the block who was reluctantly handed an invitation to a party, even though there's something a little weird about him, and shows up. It's a bit weird that he brought a weird (for these parts) brand of beer and that he drops literary references instead of TV show references. Oh, and that no one could be sure if he actually took a hit off that joint going around.
But later in the night, he's encouraged to play some songs on the guitar and, well, they rock! In a weird way. Kind of uptight and nerdy, but trying to fit in.Or, hey, wait a second. Maybe he's making fun of us! Maybe we should kick his ass! Do you even LIKE Ten Years After!? Thought not, pansy!

This is the vibe one gets from these albums. Conventional stuff from unconventional guys. Just getting their foot in the door, proving to the hippie-crazed industry that they too have something to offer and to forget about White Light, White Heat--that was then, this is THE SEVENTIES!

John Cale's Vintage Violence:

What can I say? Most people will like this album. There's nothing weird about it. Some strange lyrics, but whatever. There's no test. So if you don't understand some literary reference, bug fucking deal. It's a rock record. Cale says in his excellent memoir that he was just learning to write pop songs. Prior, he really preferred bringing his rich classical and avant garde knowledge to the pop format, but here he was rocking out with his Welsh accent.

Best bits:
"Cleo"--amazing pop that sounds like it's from some bizarre 1962 B-movie.
"Big White Cloud" and "Charlemagne" are ripped straight from Bee Gees playbook ("When the Swallow Flies", "Trafalgar" and "First of May" come to mind). Cale admits as much in his book. No shame at all in that.
"Bring It On Up" is a revelation. Why? Because it sounds like Exile-era Stones, two years before Exile. It even sounds like Jagger singing back up.
"Please" and "Ghost Story" are very pretty midtempo ballads that, to me, reflect the opiate haze that Cale was still in at the time of writing and recording this album.

Not Best Bits:
"Fairweather Friend"--this was the single, and I guess I can see why. But it sounds forced and sort of makes me angry when I hear it. It's kind of annoying.
"Adelaide"--a blues harp opening. Enough said.

Now, Lou Reed's solo debut. Not many folks know this record.
Short time table:
1970--Mo Tucker leaves the Velvet Underground to have a baby. They get teenager Billy Yule, a Mitch Mitchell-wannabe, and brother of bassist Doug Yule (who was Cale's replacement in 1968). The band get a deal with Atlantic Records, and record Loaded, which is by far, their most accessable album.
Why? More conventional rhythm section and better engineering. Pure and simple. Don't argue. All the VU albums (save White Light White Heat, which is just a beautiful monolith) had pop songs all over them. But Mo Tucker played simple, sparse patterns with no sign of syncopation.
Now, this 16 year old Billy Yule wasn't gonna play like a chick. He was gonna boogie like all his fave rock drummers.
Boom, for the first time in VU history, you got DRUM FILLS! and FUNKY BEATS! and already, Lou was forever a funky rhythm guitar player. And Sterling Morrison was getting more and more noodle-y in his soloing. So, Loaded. Pop album. Very 1970.
Lou left during mixing. Lou also had Doug Yule sing a few songs to make them more pop-friendly.
It did OK, but they weren't a band by the time of release.

1970-71--Lou goes back to mom and dad, and takes a job as a typist at his father's accounting firm. Or so the story goes. He possibly cleaned up a bit, got healthy for a bit, and wondered what was next.

1971--makes some demos (check this out!) at journalists Richard and Lisa Robinson's apartment.

Gets signed to RCA, who feel that the perfect band to back Lou Reed on his solo debut is.....wait for it.....
YES.
(like, um, serious W-T-effing-F here, right? Like, am I alone here, people?)
I'll say it again. The band YES. Actually, just Wakeman and Howe. Because these British art rockers were REALLY in tune with the NYC downtown art/drug/party scene. Oh, and the drummer, Clem Cattini, was easily 10-15 years older than everyone else, and his idea of "hip rock drumming" was to play GODDAMN FILLS THAT GO ON FOR 4 FULL MEASURES, MAKING SURE TO HIT EVERY SINGLE ONE OF HIS TOMS. Well, in 1971, that kind of WAS hip rock drumming....

(for the record, Lou didn't say no. Nor did he say no to having Steve Winwood and Jack Bruce on his 1973 album Berlin).

Thus, what we get on Lou Reed's debut solo album is what this weird British band considered "downtown NYC music", coupled with Lou not being very articulate and probably a bit freaked out. Plus, it's produced by Richard Robinson...WHO WAS NOT A RECORD PRODUCER. HE WAS A ROCK JOURNALIST.

What does it sound like?

Do you like the Velvet Underground? Do you like the songs "I Can't Stand It", "Ocean" and "Lisa Says", as heard on the 1985 release VU? Those are all perfect recordings of a perfect band, right ? Yes, in fact they are. They are perfect. They never saw the light of day in the 60's. Crime.

On Lou Reed's solo debut, they are not perfect. They are filled with funky beats, flamboyant fills, fancy fretwork and Lou shouting a lot. Not great. And I just can't hear them as if I'd never known the VU versions. Because those VU versions just entered my DNA and there they will stay.

What Is Good On Lou Reed's solo debut:

"I Love You"--pretty. sounds like a Moby Grape song or something.
"Love Makes You Feel"--I love this song. It's unlike anything Lou did before or since. Except the rhythm guitar break has a "What Goes On" thing. NOTE: on the acoustic demos, he does do "What Goes On" at the request of the Robinsons, so maybe they had suggested he write a newish song along those lines? This is only a guess...
"Wild Child"--it's a fun song, and has all the Lou Reed hallmarks...but really...The Doors already had a tune called "Wild Child" and it was a cliche already. I would not have said this to Lou, because he hated Jim Morrison with a passion. NOTE: Jerry Garcia hated Jim Morrison with a passion too.
"Ride Into The Sun"--beautiful. It's got this whole bridge bit that sounds maybe like the Yes dudes came up with it, but I don't know.
"Going Down"--also lovely. total drug/depression song.
"Berlin"--yeah, he recorded this before there was an album called Berlin. Same tune, but, in my opinion, I like this version better, if you ask me, as far as I'm concerned, as one man's opinion.

So there's you go.

You could make one great Album out of these two albums combined. Wanna do that? Ok, let's do it: This will be a nice lead in to perhaps my next entry. We'll see. Enjoy this thing, though. Again, I won't post anything illegally.

Stream: http://open.spotify.com/user/sittingnextto/playlist/1FYtnejnt0nnk1xC29y808

Pay: http://c.itunes.apple.com/us/imix/lou-reed-john-cale-best-solo/id458377987

Hello, There   2:48   John Cale   Vintage Violence
Ride Into The Sun   3:17   Lou Reed   Lou Reed
Big White Cloud   3:33   John Cale   Vintage Violence
Love Makes You Feel   3:14   Lou Reed   Lou Reed
Ghost Story   3:48   John Cale   Vintage Violence
Lisa Says   5:35   Lou Reed   Lou Reed
Bring It On Up   2:26   John Cale   Vintage Violence
Wild Child   4:42   Lou Reed   Lou Reed
Cleo   2:36   John Cale   Vintage Violence
Going Down   2:58   Lou Reed   Lou Reed
Please   4:20   John Cale   Vintage Violence
Berlin   5:17   Lou Reed   Lou Reed
Charlemagne   5:03   John Cale   Vintage Violence
I Love You   2:21   Lou Reed   Lou Reed

Ok, I guess this drumming bit has been my life.

2011-08-15T13:42:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I had been making mental lists of all the awesome, creative things I was going to do with my free time this summer after I get laid off, and then it all turned on me-- free time presented itself as frightening and intimidating and too fast-moving; and my plans, seemingly delusional. I was hearing murmurs about my 20th high school reunion, and thinking about meeting people at my upcoming wedding, and felt at a loss to think of one worthwhile (to the average stranger) thing I've done with my life.
Oh, crap on a cross--not a good mindset.

Then Steely Dan's "Black Cow" came on the iPod. Yay short attention span!
And I couldn't wait for when the drummer goes to the ride cymbal during the solo. Holy stromboli do I love that ride cymbal. In fact, when I was in the market for a ride a couple years back, that was what I wanted.
For some reason I had it in my head that Bernard Purdie played on that track. WRONG. It's Paul Humphrey.
You know that guy? I wasn't so sure myself, until I checked his credentials.... He played with Frank Zappa, Marvin Gaye, Jerry Garcia and Lawrence Welk.
Like you do.
Such subtlety on that track. Actually, Steely Dan's AJA album features, I think, a different drummer on every track, and thus is a must have for all drummers (even if Becker and Fagan wrote out the parts)
Humans aren't machines (and drummers are neither one or the other), so drum notation will not result in carbon copy performances from drummer to drummer.
Or maybe it's supposed to, and I'm just super neurotically defensive about my weaknesses because drumming is what I like the most and I wish I was better at it. Anyway, back to sunnier thoughts.

So this was a crack of daylight. That's right! I like drumming. And people (some people) like my drumming.
AND, I was going to be spending a couple days recording drums for one of the best bands in the land, School For The Dead, of which I've had the privilege of being a member for nine years.

As much as I would have liked to trade places with someone like Paul Humphrey, or Ronnie Tutt or Hal Blaine, when I sat and listed all the recordings I've been on, it's time well spent. I've kept busy. I just forget to take the time to feel proud about stuff. It's always "on to the next thing". And it will hopefully keep going and going. Maybe the law of averages will kick in and something I've played on will be serenading JC Penny shoppers 20 years from now. Yes, that's all I want. We all want immortality. My one saving grace is that I know that sound waves will survive longer than physical structures.

In lieu of having made a real resume of dayjobs, as unemployed people should do, I made this: a drumming resume. Wanky, I know, but, like I says, it's been a good chunk o' me life.
And I owe so, so much to so many talented people. Too many to mention. Life is strange. One thing leads to another.

Note: the years may be a bit off. I'll correct them once I really need to.

1989--Matt and Brian--Quasimodo (home 4-track, North Andover, MA)
1990--Matt and Brian--Mail Me a Mutiny (home 4-track)
1990--The Mean Wyoming--Corn (Dan Isaacs, Andover, MA)
1991--The Mean Wyoming--Mail Me a Mutiny (was never sure why Matt and I were ok with recycling that title) (Dan Isaacs, Andover, MA)
1991--That Cat-- Debut E.P. (Dan Isaacs, Andover, MA)
1992--That Cat--full length 1992 collection (home 4-track)
1993--That Cat--Final E.P.(home 4-track)
1993--Sweetspot--5 song EP (Rob Christiansen, Wash DC)
1994--Sourpuss--Rocket Day EP (vinyl only)--(Chris Flood, Northampton, MA)
1996--The Figments Won't Hurt You--(Thom Monahan, Dave Shuman, Hartford, CT)
1999--The Figments--Broken Time--(Dave Shuman, Thom Monahan, Hartford, CT, Northampton, MA)
1998--The Aloha Steamtrain--Girl Planet--(Lord Russ, Northampton, MA/Jim Fogerty, Westfield, MA)
1999--Humbert--Insomniacs' Almanac (unreleased but some tracks released subsequently on Ari Vais and Anthony Westcott releases)--Paul Olivera, NYC)
2000--The Aloha Steamtrain--Now You Know--(Mark Alan Miller/Thom Monahan--Hadley, MA)
2000--The Figments--All The Gone Days--(Frank Padellaro, Hadley, MA)
2000--Lo Fine--Nine (on 3 tracks)--(Thom Monahan, Northampton, MA)
2000--The Greenbergs--Pretty Little Numbers (unreleased)--(Frank Padellaro, Hadley, MA)
2001--The Gay Potatoes--(unfinished, unreleased)--(Frank Padellaro, Hadley, MA)
2002--The Aloha Steamtrain--The Aloha Steamtrain--(Frank Padellaro, Hadley, MA, Lord Russ, Northampton, MA)
2003--School For The Dead--Chain E.P.--(Henning Ohlenbusch, Northampton, MA)
2003--Sitting Next to Brian--A Cartoon, A Joke (Henning Ohlenbusch, Northampton, MA)
2003--Mark Schwaber--Two Years and Thirty Minutes (one track) (Karl Ourand, Westfield, MA)
2004--Lo Fine--Not For Us Two--(Mark Alan Miller, Hadley, MA)
2004--Thane Thomsen--Rehab, MA (Mark Alan Miller, Hadley, MA)
2004--School For The Dead--The New You--(Henning Ohlenbusch, Northampton, MA)
2005--The Figments--Blood On The Clouds (Dave Shuman, Somefarmhouse, CT)
2005--Scott Hall--Humor Me--(Frank Padellaro, Greenfield, MA)
2005--Slugbearers Band (Mark Mulcahy, Dave Dreiwitz, Chris Harford, Ken Maiuri, Brian Marchese) (unreleased)--(Adam Lasus, Brooklyn, NY)
2006--Sitting Next to Brian--Polite--(Henning Ohlenbusch, Northampton, MA)
2006--Mike Flood--The Future Is After You (unreleased)-(Norm DeMoura, Williamsburg, MA)
2007--The Fawns --A Nice Place to Be (Henning Ohlenbusch, Northampton, MA)
2007--Lo Fine--Migraine Errata (play on 4 songs)--(various places)
2008--Haunt--The Deep North--(Jose Ayerve, Woodstock, NY)
2008--The Figments--Twelve Belles--(Mark Alan Miller, Easthampton, MA)
2008--Matt Silberstein--B instead of V
2009--Sitting Next to Brian--The Wrong Tree EP (Henning Ohlenbusch,, Northampton, MA)
2010--Goldwater--I'm a pessimist because of intelligence, but an optimist because of will.(Mark Alan Miller, Easthampton, MA)
2010--Paul Roche--Crayons (Danny Bernini, Northampton, MA)
2010--Peter Hanks--(Danny Bernini, Northampton, MA) http://www.peterhanksmusic.com/music/
2011--Henning Ohlenbusch--Henning Goes To The Movies (drums on "Amelie") http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OWMKshlOyzQ or http://www.rubwrongways.com/henninggoestothemovies.html
2011 Sitting Next to Brian and Beth--5 Songs. http://various1.bandcamp.com/album/five-songs
2011 Peter Hanks---(Danny Bernini, Northampton, MA) http://www.facebook.com/pages/Peter-Hanks-Music/171080982927739?sk=app_2405167945
2011 (TBA) School For The Dead--(Frank Padellaro) ????
2011-2012 (TBA) Lo Fine--(play on 2 songs, or something of that nature...)

Plus some performances, random sessions and/or stand-in gigs with folks like Mark Mulcahy, Eric Olsson, The Lay Jains, Don Lennon, Zeke Fiddler, Bruce Mandaro, Winterpills, The Claudia Malibu, The Novels, Steve Sanderson, and more....(like an impromptu set with Robyn Hitchcock a few years ago)...

On the horizon...well, I won't say what's on the horizon, because often times, in music, the expected doesn't happen, and the unexpected tells you be somewhere in 10 minutes. Or you shoulda been there last week.

Here's some visual crap I did during a similar "what have I done with my life" crisis last year....seems to happen in late summer. I think it's mold allergies.

Rekindling an Old Flame--The Fall

2011-08-10T12:40:00.000-07:00

I originally posted this four years ago on The Living Rockumentary, but felt it was worth a trotting-out...I've since bought This Awesome Book and This Mostly Awesome Collection, which satiated me for a while. But late summer/early, uh, fall, usually brings about a little Fall resurgence on my part, as ignorant as I may be of anything they've done in the last 8 or so years.

Late night internet searches can (duh) take you to weird places. You never know what you may stumble upon and how you may react to it. I had one such chance encounter recently, and it confirmed why once I gave my heart to this person/persons.
Whaaa???

The site was You Tube, the name I entered was The Fall. Yes, that band (person, really) that's one of a kind, really and truly. A genre unto themselves. One step in to the influence and you're already 3/4 of the way to obvious and unforgivable copycatdom.

The Fall. Born in Manchester, England in 1977, the brainchild of truly working class, truly original, literate speed freak/booze hound genius Mark E. Smith, possessor of little to no instrumental skills, then or now. 30 years later they still exist, M.E.S. being the only constant. No fewer than 30 or 40 people can say they were in The Fall, be it for 15 years or 15 minutes. Also, their 30-something albums have been on 20 something different labels. That's a lot of estimated figures there. That's a lot of lazy research on my part.

No hits, no arena shows, just a loyal following that ebbs and flows. Never heard them? Take early Pavement mixed with some early Pulp and maybe you might get somewhat close. They can't be replicated. I once heard a band at the Baystate in Northampton trying to pass off their own music as original, but it was such an unabashed, by-the-numbers rip-off, that I couldn't help but yell "Hip Priest!" during a between-song lull. Yes, I was that ass. But I just couldn't abide.

You can't really hum a bar of most of The Fall's songs, and often cannot decipher what Mark E. Smith is on about. After 200 listens to "Cruiser's Creek" (one of their only "hits", from 1985), I recently read it's about an office party in which a bomb goes off. I never knew and I kind of didn't care. Even when read, it's full of not even booksmart references, but in many cases, his own slang (no big wonder the oft-self-referential Mark E Smith wrote a song called "Slang King").

What influences M.E.S.? Well, they've covered stuff by classic country, soul, psychedelic pop and reggae artists. So it's all over the map. German hippie-art band Can was one precursor, though only up to a point.

My first encounter with them: my friend Todd, soon to be singer of That Cat, and then Sourpuss, was sitting in Dunkin' Donuts in North Andover, with a large coffee and a pack of Marlboros listening to headphones. He was the coolest person I knew at that moment. I asked what he was listening to and he said The Fall.
He rewound his walkman to a song he thought was a good starting point.
"C.R.E.E.P." came on--their first "poppy" single, produced by John Leckie (XTC, Stone Roses, P.I.L., Radiohead...). Simple, cute synth riff....then this guy talk/singing with a thick accent....
I dug it, but didn't really get it.

Months later, Todd and I were meeting for coffee and cigs on an almost nightly basis. One night he showed me a Fall video tape he just got.
It started to make sense. This Mark E. Smith guy was weird. Skinny, sarcastic, semi-unintelligible....the band was like a cult. Almost like a Grateful Dead for the post-punk. You were either on the bus or off the bus. You were drawn in or repelled.
I wanted to get on the bus after seeing this video:

NOTE: I was going out on a limb with the Grateful Dead comparison--the fact that neither band sounded inbred, spoke their own language, for better or worse-- but then was sent a link to this great video and saw I wasn't crazy or making imagined mental leaps:

And much like the Dead, when someone tried to get me into them via the slick Terrapin Station album, with its uber Cali-coked-out 1977 production, I didn't get it. It wasn't until I heard 1968's feedback-laden Anthem of the Sun that I understood.

And as such, the slick mid-late 80's Fall wasn't doing it for me. Then I was loaned The Fall's dark, trippy 1983 album Perverted By Language and I got it. I got where Pavement got some things, where Sonic Youth got some things..

I decided I liked best the early to mid period. 1979-84. Trashy production. Pre sequencers 'n synth. More guitar/bass driven. And two drummers! And (after a while) M.E.S.' cute American (ex)wife Brix on guitar.

I got a job that summer delivering Boston Globes--250 of them--every friggin night/morning from 3-7 am. That summer I finally understood. Sudafed kept me going (for energy and not sneezing to death due to all the fresh newsprint) and Mark E. Smith was singing/talking about being "Totally Wired" and I was hooked. it was a surreal summer---Bowie's "Berlin Trilogy" being the other main soundtrack, as well as XTC's The Dub Experiements (and really, who listens to THAT except wired paper boys? at 3:45am?)

No wonder I returned to school on the verge of mental collapse that fall semester.

Aahh..so I've rediscovered the most indescribable of bands.

"But Brian, I thought you like melody and hooks and.."

I do, but there's something there...like, no offense to lots of people I know, but I will never get the appeal of Dire Straits. Much like you may never understand The Fall. But maybe you will.

Try these on for size:

So, yeah--he's a bit of a drunk and a tyrant, but his interviews are much less embarassing than say Andy partridge's (if you want to go the "eccentric limey" route)

see these surreal television interviews--he's quite hillarious.

Thanks.
Oh, yeah..seen them twice--once in '93, once in '95, both times at Axis in Boston. Or Avalon. It was loud!! And Brix was there at the '95 one which blew all of our minds.

Oh, and read this and this--they're excerpt from a new autobiography.
They explain a lot.

Happy Birthday Mr. Jerry. A list and a LOT of noise.....

2011-08-01T20:43:00.000-07:00

I was gonna make a podcast commemorating what would have been Garcia's 69th bday and stuff, but wasn't really feeling it.
Suffice to say, Jerry Garcia was no lazy hippie. His life is very well chronicled through all the music he played and played and played.
His monthly planner (if he kept one) could have included: 3 bluegrass gigs, 10 Grateful Dead shows, 6 club dates with one side project or another, a week of songwriting with Robert Hunter, and rehearsals and recording with all of the above. Phew.

In lieu of a podcast, I made a movie (below) AND.... here's a chronological list of 50 great songs he wrote over his career with the Grateful Dead. Besides "Cream Puff War", which he wrote words and music to, the rest are all music by Garcia, words by Robert Hunter.

Cream Puff War    3:18    Grateful Dead
Dark Star (single)    2:45    Grateful Dead
Dupree's Diamond Blues    3:34    Grateful Dead
Mountains Of The Moon    4:05    Grateful Dead
China Cat Sunflower    3:42    Grateful Dead
Uncle John's Band    4:45    Grateful Dead
High Time    5:15    Grateful Dead
Dire Wolf    3:15    Grateful Dead
Black Peter    5:44    Grateful Dead
Casey Jones    4:39    Grateful Dead
Candyman    6:14    Grateful Dead
Friend Of The Devil    3:25    Grateful Dead
Ripple    4:10    Grateful Dead
Brokedown Palace    4:09    Grateful Dead
Attics Of My Life    5:14    Grateful Dead
Bertha    5:44    The Grateful Dead
Wharf Rat    8:33    The Grateful Dead
Deal    3:14    Jerry Garcia
Bird Song    4:26    Jerry Garcia
He's Gone    6:57    Grateful Dead
Loser    4:10    Jerry Garcia
Sugaree    5:55    Jerry Garcia
Brown Eyed Women    4:39    Grateful Dead
Ramble On Rose    6:01    Grateful Dead
Mississippi Half Step Uptown Toodeloo 5:45 Grateful Dead
Row Jimmy    7:16    Grateful Dead
Eyes Of The World    5:20    Grateful Dead
Stella Blue    6:26    Grateful Dead
Scarlet Begonias    4:20    Grateful Dead
China Doll    4:11    Grateful Dead
Ship Of Fools    5:39    Grateful Dead
Help On the Way/Slipknot!    7:21    Grateful Dead
Crazy Fingers    6:42    Grateful Dead
Blues For Allah    12:44    Grateful Dead
They Love Each Other    4:38    Jerry Garcia
It Must Have Been The Roses    5:30    Jerry Garcia
Mission In The Rain    5:04    Jerry Garcia
Terrapin Station Part I    16:30    Grateful Dead
Rubin And Cherise    5:18    Jerry Garcia
Cats Under The Stars    5:31    Jerry Garcia
Shakedown Street    4:59    Grateful Dead
If I Had The World To Give    5:00    Grateful Dead
Alabama Getaway    3:37    The Grateful Dead
Althea    6:52    The Grateful Dead
Midnight Getaway    7:55    Jerry Garcia
Touch Of Grey    5:51    Grateful Dead
Foolish Heart    5:12    Grateful Dead
Standing On The Moon    5:23    Grateful Dead
Days Between    11:03    Grateful Dead
So Many Roads    7:25    Grateful Dead

And here's a video I made--A Grateful Dead Noise Collage. Most non-fans associate the Dead with long, noodly jams (mmm...noodles and jam...), however, for their first decade or so, they sure delighted in spending at least a few minutes each show making an awful racket that would impress your average Sonic Youth fan. Have you the stomach to take all 11 minutes?

Dylan and Friends Loving Music....

2011-07-15T13:21:00.000-07:00

(Keep reading to find a link to a specially prepared mix of Dylan and his heavy friends doing fun covers and odd rearrangements of his own songs...it's great listening.)

I have a few reasons why I didn't observe Bob Dylan's 70th Birthday, either in real life or on this blog.

1) I find myself wishing a lot of people belated happy birthdays, so why should Bob be an exception?
2) Didn't you get enough hype without me adding to it?
3) May 24 was a day before I had hernia surgery and so I was just trying to not stress out. Too, I was told not to eat or drink after 11 pm that night, and any real rock and roll birthday observation shouldn't start until at least midnight.

So there are some lame excuses. But here's one very legitimate reason: nothing I write on this blog seems to (nor, let's face it, should) be of real relevance to anyone, and so, writing about Dylan on his birthday would just be too relevant.

In any case, happy belated, Bob Dylan.

Forget the subjective and fanatical tags of poet/sage/prophet/spokesman.
I'm going to salute him by writing a bit about Bob being, above all else, just a guy who loves to play music, be it his own or others'. This model has more recently inspired such folks as Elvis Costello, Richard Thompson, Robert Plant and Robyn Hitchcock, all of whom, besides being prolific songwriters, love to pay tribute to those who have inspired them. As a drummer, I can say, it's always a treat to play with people who just know how to play a million songs. It's sort of bringing the jazz/blues tradition to rock and roll, and thus allowing it and its artists to age gracefully.

So the following Dylan Mix consists of mainly covers, but some of his own tunes, recorded at three different times, accompanied by three different heavyweight bands. The songs are arranged non-chronologically to stress the fun of it all and continuity-in-style of Dylan as an interpreter. The three sessions are:

1) Dylan with The Band--1967, Woodstock, NY. The source of the famous (and recently written about on this blog) Basement Tapes, the culled songs here are all fun cover tunes. Mainly American folk and early rock and roll. Early rock and roll covers can often be cause for a yawn and eyes rolled skyward, but in Dylan's hands, you always know it's just gonna sound odd in a good way. His voice is evolving, or rather is recovering from the narcotic/tobacco wheeze of '66; and on one of the songs you hear what may be the birth of his syrupy Nashville Skyline voice, which he wouldn't use on record for another year and a half.

2) Dylan with George Harrison, and ???--There are a few theories about these songs. Some say half are from '69 and feature Carl Perkins and Johnny Cash. I'm of the same opinion as those who believe all these songs are from the same session--May 1, 1970 with George Harrison on guitar and backing vox. The rest of the band is in question--why, I don't know. I've seen Russ Kunkel on drums, Leon Russell on bass, Charlie Daniels on bass, Al Kooper on piano, Bob Johnston on piano...a few others--pretty sure they weren't all there. In any case, Bob and George are having a great time. Fun covers and some VERY COOL reworkings of (then) semi-recent Dylan songs. It must have taken some goading from Dylan-nut Harrison, but Bob not only does some deep cuts from '64-66, but is back singing in his natural voice--not the odd syrupy put-on of Nashville Skyline.

3) Dylan and The Grateful Dead--spring, 1987. Yes, the subsequent shows weren't good. The Dead had more or less sobered up in the wake of Garcia's recent near-death, while Dylan, finding his way through an alcoholic haze of self-doubt, was all over the place--though having a good time upon discovering that he and the Dead were cut from the same cloth. The rehearsals here, written about in Chronicles Vol 1, went from Dylan almost quitting early on, basically in fright and intimidation--after all, the Dead knew his songs better than HE did-to Dylan and the Dead having a grand old time--heard here--going deep into their shared history and Garcia getting out the banjo and pedal steel for the first time in years. Dylan even plays mandolin. It's a total continuation of the other two sessions. Pressure free, full of laughs and the love of music just pouring out. Unfortunately, by the time of the tour a month or two later, Dylan was up to his old tricks, calling out songs they hadn't rehearsed, changing the keys of songs, forgetting beginnings and endings...and you kind of don't want to do that with The Dead, who had hard enough time with those things anyway...

Something I'll point out is the way I've arranged them. There are two songs that Dylan does, 20 years apart, so I've out them back to back--"The French Girl" by Ian and Sylvia and "Folsom Prison Blues", by Dylan's long time friend, Johnny Cash. So you get to hear how both the Band and the Dead treat each of these tunes. I've also made sure to include songs that Dylan was doing in 1967 which in the coming years would become lifelong stapes for The Grateful Dead: "Goin' Down the Road Feelin' Bad" and "Big River" (another Cash tune). Deep roots. Oh, I believe The Dead were known to do "See That My Grave is Kept Clean" waaay early on, like when they were The Warlocks.

One last thing: I like comparing/contrasting the roles of lead guitarists Robbie Robertson, George Harrison and Jerry Garcia in each of these. All three were admirers of Dylan and wanted nothing but to please him. I find the biggest similarities to be between Harrison and Garcia. Partly because of their playing but mostly because they both seem to love singing with Bob--the hit and miss harmony, the good time shouting, and all else in between.

Two of the three sessions are interesting because they were recorded at two out of the three time periods that Dylan covers in his memoir.
If you've not read this book, I highly recommend it. He chose to cover three years--1962, 1970 and 1987--that represent periods in his career that he really had no clue what his next move was going to be.
In each of these cases, he just had to stop pressing the "genius" button and go with what he loved--and what he's been riding out this final years doing: having a good time playing music with friends.

Listening with headphones is recommended for the before/after song chatter.

Dylan Loves Music--rehearsals 1967, 1970, 1987--compiled by Brian Marchese
listen to it by following link below....

A Fool Such As I Bob Dylan+The Band
Da Doo Ron Ron Bob Dylan, George Harrison
Stealin' Bob Dylan and the Grateful Dead
Big River (take 2) Bob Dylan+The Band
Walkin' Down the Line Bob Dylan and the Grateful Dead
All I Have To Do Is Dream Bob Dylan, George Harrison
Silhouette Bob Dylan+The Band
See You Later Allen Ginsburg Bob Dylan+The Band
I Don't Believe You Bob Dylan, George Harrison
John Hardy Was a Desperate Man (2) Bob Dylan and the Grateful Dead
See That My Grave Is Kept Clean Bob Dylan+The Band
Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues Bob Dylan, George Harrison
I'm Free Bob Dylan and the Grateful Dead
The French Girl Bob Dylan+The Band
The French Girl Bob Dylan and the Grateful Dead
Yesterday Bob Dylan, George Harrison
People Get Ready Bob Dylan+The Band
Matchbox Bob Dylan, George Harrison
Tomorrow is a Long Time Bob Dylan and the Grateful Dead
Folsom Prison Blues Bob Dylan+The Band
Folsom Prison Blues Bob Dylan and the Grateful Dead
Goin' Down The Road Bob Dylan+The Band
Rainy Day Women Bob Dylan, George Harrison
Rolling In my Sweet Baby's Arms Bob Dylan and the Grateful Dead
Mama You've Been On My Mind Bob Dylan, George Harrison

http://www.mediafire.com/?xan91cdlq2zno