Sunday, December 29, 2013

From Ear to Ear!

Still wandering around the internets, I stumbled upon Nils Lofgren’s old band, Grin.  I’d mostly heard Nils  on Neil Young albums, as part of Crazy Horse, with Bruce Springsteen and as a solo artist.
But never his earliest - and some would say best - period. It turns out that some are right.


This is pre-solo, pre-Bruce, sort of pre-Neil, back when he could backflip without the trampoline.
And as much as I enjoyed his first solo record, and his contributions to other artists, this record manages to be a revelation. Nils has a sweet voice, plays a razorsharp guitar and - writes some great, melodic songs.  And rockers, too!

You might find the first listen questionable. The first song, especially, where Nils’ brother Tom, sounding a hundred years old, accompanied by a country western piano, kicks off  “Everybody’s Missing the Sun” . But don’t worry, just when you think you’ve bought the wrong album, Nils jumps in, singing the melody he’s been holding back just for that moment, and a wave of warmth washes over you!  
I’m embarrassed to say that I didn’t know how good a songwriter Nils was.  Even the Jaybee-Brother-annoying 1975 solo record wasn’t as good as this softer and sweeter side.  The guitar’s as good as ever, too. A
When to Play It: Any old time.
When NOT to Play It: Around young people.

Sunday, December 22, 2013

I Think I Killed Lou Reed:

When I’m not out there trying to bring the entire musical canon into my house, I can be found wandering off into the nether corners of the musical landscape. For some odd reason, I decided it was time to check out what the hell John Cale had been doing since the Velvets, aside from producing some great bands and playing on other people’s records.

Now why would I do this except to piss off (a not dead yet) Lou Reed? Cale and Reed never really got along. Reed kicked Cale out of the Velvet Underground, and made sure no one had any fun during the reunion tour in the 90s.

I was having a lousy summer and was in one of my very frequent judgemental moods. And who better to go after than heroes who disappoint? Like Gore Vidal, who wrote eloquently about politics and history, but whose will left nothing to his longtime housekeeper, and John Lennon, who sang about peace and love, but treated his women like garbage. I’m not sure if this information was in the ether at the time, or I was just stumbling upon it. In any case, I was loaded for bear.

So if you’re thinking of people who create beauty but who do ugly things, who’s a bigger bear than Lou Reed? I might have been looking for a good Velvet Underground video to post to Facebook, when I came across a video or Reed acting out on some poor interviewer. Well, he wasn’t really that awful on it.  But the the bad behavior stories are legion. So, what could little old me do to stick it to mean old Reed? Why, buy a John Cale record, of course.

So I began wandering around the internets for a “popular” John Cale record. Well, there’s no such thing. So I got this one:  



Cale brought the non-guitar noise to VU - playing bass and violin, and doing his best to make them sound like ballistic missiles.

His post VU career is probably more varied than Lou Reed’s.  This 2 CD set combines Cale’s three albums for Island records (Fear, Slow Dazzle and Helen of Troy) a few years after VU broke up. During this period, he keeps things pretty conventional, saving the lunacy for some occasional screaming, but otherwise letting others like Eno to do the dirty work for him

Of the three albums gathered here, Fear is the strongest. The moods are varied and the band is tight. The songwriting is pretty good, and the vocals are...well.
Slow Dazzle and Helen of Troy don’t seem to have as strong an identity but of course that can be due to being stuck behind Fear in the playing order. And the more I play this thing, the more I like them. But it turns out that my favorite cuts are the previously unreleased ones and the B Sides. And the ballads!

As good as this set is, it’s hard to love Cale, and just as hard to hate him. Not so with Reed of course, who provoked extreme reactions with practically every album he made.  And he made a lot. Probably more than Cale sold. But given how they felt about each other, every Cale record sold was probably a nail in Reed’s coffin.

Well, I got this record, and it must have been the one to put him over the limit. Within a month, Reed was dead. So I confess, I probably did it. But as Mrs. Jaybee says, I suffer from delusions of grandeur.

B+

When to Play It: When you’re in the mood to explore.
When NOT to Play It: When you want to have fun.

“Sylvia Said”

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Let's Party, or the Terrorists Win

This might be as close as I ever get to a philosophic thought about music.  Don’t worry, it dissipates pretty quickly.



This record is so over the top it’s funny. It’s fast and loud - the lyrics are usually shouted. And melodies? I wouldn’t know. I haven’t noticed any yet. There’s even some organ to add extra bombast. (Because there wasn’t enough already?)

The theme is PARTY! (Three of the songs have the word in their titles.)  There are love songs, too.  (Okay, maybe not “Take it Off”.)  

One of them to New York, titled, oddly enough, “I Love NYC”, which at first I thought was just a typical “hurray for fill-in-the-city” song. But then I noticed the album’s release date - November 13, 2001, and that some of the album was recorded in New York.

So it hit me. Andrew W.K. is that guy from high school who is big enough to kick your ass, and because he’s a simple guy and you’re a nerd, has every reason to want to kick your ass, but doesn’t.  Instead, he’s actually friendly to you! And like God (I’m told), he likes you and wants you to have a good time.

And after 9/11, he decided that what this country needs is a good party. You know, to show the world what we do best. Party our asses off! And who knows? Maybe we wouldn’t have gotten around to that war. Sorry, wars. Although that’s mine - and possibly not Andrew’s - thinking.

And while I’m a few decades too old to really appreciate it, I admire the sentiment. It seems so singled-minded in its advocacy of said partying, that I suspect it’s all a con.  Which makes it more fun. Otherwise I look ridiculous playing it.

This is such a good hearted record I feel like I owe it a higher grade. But I’m too much of a miserable bastard to play it a lot. If the situation were reversed, Andrew’s such a sweetheart, he’d mark me on a curve. B

When to Play It: When you’ve had too much coffee and, for some reason, love the world.
When NOT To Play It: Late at night when everybody’s trying to sleep. Wakes (maybe the day after, though)

Sunday, December 8, 2013

Jaybee Wouldn't Know a Good Fill-in-the-Blank If...

Wasn’t it Frank Zappa who said that Americans wouldn’t know good rock n’ roll if it bit them on the ass? It’s a shame he didn’t test this thesis by actually making any.

Easy now! I didn’t say Frank wasn’t the greatest artist of all time. He clearly was, but blah, blah blah…

Okay now that I’ve distracted the Zappa fans let’s admit that the guy never played rock and roll in his life, and, well, good for him, and for us, because it probably would have been even worse than what he did produce.  (Sorry Petey!)

Okay, not fair. But possibly accurate. I base this judgment on five of his 5,000 or so albums. But then again, I’m still bitter over having bought Waka/Jawaka thinking it was Hot Rats, due to the misleading-to-idiots cover art (note the faucets):


 
But I’m just one of those heathen less interested in influences and sophistication than the end result, and, well, fun.  And let’s face it, unless you’re into Frank’s potty humor he’s no fun at all.  

But why am I ragging on Frank, who, sadly, died, prior to 9/11 (lucky him)? What I’m really interested in is the not-recognizing-something-if-it-bit-you-on-the-ass phenomenon. I was having trouble with the concept since I’m not sure why a bite on the ass would somehow help me see or hear better.

But I may have finally gotten it. And It, came in the form of Synth-Pop (Duran Duran, Soft Cell, etc.) - or rather the complete absence of it - which only dawned on me after listening to this record about TWENTY times:


Colossal Youth - Young Marble Giants

This is what happens when you get older. You not only forget things. Without realizing it, you begin to splice together things that aren’t supposed to go together at all. Like recalling the Ten Commandments but somehow missing all the “Nots”.  (By the way, do you notice how I say “you” when I mean me?  I do that a lot. Usually when I’m pondering one of my very few shortcomings.  I only use “me” instead of “you”  when erroneously attributing lovemaking skills.  Somehow people see through this, but I resolve to carry on nonetheless.)

So immediately below are my original notes about Young Marble Giants by Colossal Youth (or is it Colossal Youth by Young Marble... oh, nevermind), followed by the eventual recognition of my own stupidity. And I’m talking sh*t about poor Frank?

Come to think of it, I don’t think I like any artist named Frank. Yep. I just did a search of “Frank” on allmusic.com and I can state that I don’t like any of them.  Over a lifetime I’ve come to tolerate Sinatra and even like a lot of his songs, but it’s been a long road. I don’t think I have enough time left for Zappa, especially if I approach all those Franks alphabetically.

Anyway, here goes:

“Bare bones synth “pop”, and at first, antiseptic to a fault. One thing I always hated about 1980s synth-pop was how it had no balls. CY has somewhat of an excuse in that the lead singer (whisperer, really) is female.

I catch myself here and can now report that there isn’t a  single synthesizer on this whole (25 song) album!

Now why did I think there was?  It goes back to an article by Stephin Merritt, where he lists his year-by-year favorite records of the 20th Century. I somehow confused it with another article where Merritt states that the Human League’s Dare is a synth pop classic. And I go and splice these two separate thoughts together.

Or at least that’s my theory.  And really, why should my theory be considered any more reliable than what I now happen to think was a mistake?  I’m far too lazy to go checking into this stuff. For all I know Stephin Merritt said exactly what I originally thought he said, and this whole thing is his fault.

Anyway back to the only part of my notes that remain somewhat valid:

“Amidst the usually whispered or mumbled vocals, a bass eventually emerges, and every once in a while a guitar. Sometimes a keyboard (but never in the same song as the guitar.)  It’s kind of like Pylon but on Prozac instead of Welbutrin. I guess I have to give it another chance.”

And it got a lot of chances, since it was eminently playable in a number of different contexts (work, early morning, late night, dinner) without  irritating anyone. (Which is normally my definition of bad music, but whatever).

Which is what I required to finally realize the most obvious aspect of this non-synth-pop record. It’s also a non-drums album! All rhythm is handled by said guitar/bass/keyboard.

So it grows on you. And while some might prefer something less spare, I think it’s quite nice. Peaceful even.  B+

When to Play It: Night. Dinner, or when you don’t want to wake anyone.
When to NOT Play It: A party (unless everyone has just taken heroin.)

And it just goes to show that some records - maybe even some by Frank Zappa - require a non-idiot listener to figure out the most obvious things.

"Young Marble Giants"

Sunday, December 1, 2013

And So You Shall, You Old Fashioned Boy!


This is probably the best Go Betweens album, unless you count 1978-1990 (or my personal Fave Oceans Apart), but I’d better get the rest of them to be sure. Robert Forster’s contributions are even stronger than usual - the strong guitar/bass/drum attack more than offsetting his slightly askew vocals.
 
And just as usual, Grant McLennan goes pretty, and hits a couple of home runs - “Bye Bye Pride” actually being a grand slam. It’s a nice balance of melodicism and a strong rock bottom. The added female voice and instrumentation don’t hurt a bit, either. If the overall effect on me is less than overpowering it’s simply because I’d already been exposed to the best of these songs via 1978-90 already.
 
You should find it just dandy. A-
 
When to Play It: Late Morning, Early Evening
When to NOT Play It: When you want to slit your wrists. It’s just too... civilized for that.