This just another group of ten, with no attempt at being comprehensive. Just ten I immediately think of, or that are playing in my head at any given time.
But it’s better that way. This isn’t something I should have to think too hard about.
Oh, and the number of artists is ludicrously low. My mind is usually all over the place, but in this case these solos have gotten all the way into the lizard part of my brain. I’ll do another post if I make it back out to the monkey part.
Television:
Supposedly punks because of their intensity, they actually know how to play their instruments. Tom Verlaine and Richard Lloyd are both great guitar players.
There’s all kinds of loveliness on their second album, but it’s the first one that shook the world.
“See No Evil”:
The first guitar bangs out a primitive rhythm in a low register. The next one plays a repeating pattern that can only be described as snarling, this time in a higher register. Then Tom Verlaine chokes out - in yet a higher register - the words What I want, I want now! so you know these guys really mean business.
But it’s not quite fast enough to let the soloist just coast. It’s setting a level of intensity that will have to be heightened or it will all be for nothing. But Richard Lloyd's solo finds exactly the right space by going up yet another register, but not too high. Not yet. He plays a simple riff but builds the notes and the speed until there’s nowhere else to go, at which point he ends it with a descent (or is it an ascent?) into supremely controlled chaos.
“Marquee Moon”:
Nine minutes long, with dueling guitar solos taking up the middle, this one reminds me of climbing a mountain. Slow at first, but gradually increasing the intensity until it’s at a fever pitch.
It climaxes with a rush to the top of the mountain where you can feel the wide open space and even hear some (prehistoric?) birds. (You always risk sounding like an idiot when writing about rock and roll, don’t you?)
It was the song playing when a life change occurred. Friend and then Roommate Mike was moving to Europe.
While we shared an apartment, he and I would stay up all night drinking, talking and listening to music. On the day he left, I put this album on as he was getting ready. I picked it because we both loved it, and knew it would be the last one we’d listen to together.
He was all packed and waiting for the ride when this song came on, and it really felt like we were climbing that mountain. At the end, Mike put on his wings and jumped off the top, and I stayed behind because that’s what I do.
After the climax, it starts all over again. On the original vinyl, Tom Verlaine gets out a couple of lines of the verse before it fades out at 10:08, leaving you with the feeling that it continues on forever while you (but most likely me) have to head back down the mountain to face real life again, or perhaps the cemetery that they mention earlier in the song.
Crosby Stills Nash and Young:
Yeah, who would have thought?
“Carry On” (Live Version):
In theory, this long live version of a pretty tight studio song should suck. But I’ve got it basically memorized. Sloppy, self-indulgent but brilliant nonetheless. The singing doesn’t even try to match the polished harmonies on the original, but that is more than made up for by the passion. Again, dueling guitars - this time courtesy of primal Neil Young and fluid Stephen Stills - that are worthy of the Allman Brothers, Grateful Dead and Eric Clapton. Who said more isn’t better?
Eric Clapton:
And speaking of this idiot, I like to recall the time when he could do no wrong (music-wise, that is):
“Let it Rain”
It helps that this is a very pretty song with a chord progression that just encourages a guitar hero to go nuts. But on the studio version, Eric manages to balance control, passion and invention. I used to love when it came on the radio when my Led Zeppelin-loving friends were around.
“Crossroads”
Yeah, I know that it’s been spliced together from several performances but as a piece of recorded art it’s astounding. There are so many shifts of phrasing, tone and angle of attack that it simply can’t be absorbed all at one time. You have to pick the part to pay attention to or risk exhaustion.
“Badge”
Who knew Cream could do a perfect pop song? But here it is. Beautifully vague but evocative lyrics, emotional singing, George Harrison’s lovely guitar and then Eric's solo. In terms of compression, emotion and technique this might be his best.
“Sitting on Top of the World”
From Goodbye this is an overlooked masterpiece. It’s rough and raw with at least two changes in tone. But he is all over it. Intense as hell.
Stephen Stills:
“Go Back Home”
From the first Stephen Stills record, but it’s Eric Clapton who solos on this. Apparently recorded in the middle of his heroin addiction, he didn’t even remember doing it.
It starts off slow and easy but then halfway through Clapton jumps in and there is just no turning back. Another example of him improving a song without completely taking it over.
And as long as we’re talking about guitarists who are all over someone else’s record….
Derek and the Dominos:
“Why Does Love Have to Be So Sad?”
This is really all about Duane, and I must add that it’s not just the solo, but also the frantic pace of the damned thing. And then there are his fills that only tighten the screws further. So the bar is set very high when it’s time for the solo. And Duane doesn’t let us down. He matches the blistering pace and then some.
Clapton does his level best to keep up (and without Duane his would have been a perfectly good solo) but he may as well just be playing rhythm. And in a way, he kind of is.
And that’s it for now.
Okay, I know I left a lot out but since I limited myself to ten, my conscience is clear.
Like the first two One or Two Hundreds which were about voices and melodies and emotions, these guitar players provide the same thing without saying a word.
But I’m sure you can think of a zillion records I left out.
Come at me, bro!
Saturday, December 30, 2017
Friday, December 15, 2017
Older and (Hopefully) Wiser
Once a year - Thanksgiving at my brother’s house - we say Grace before dinner.
We usually force one of the kids to do it, 'cause that’s one of the fun things parents get to do. But this year my older brother Pat volunteered.
2017 was a tough year for us, with several of our relatives passing away. Mom was bad enough, but the hits kept coming, with Uncle Pat and Aunt Theresa, too. And all that by March.
The kicker, though, was our cousin Gene, who was just a couple of years older than us. It was the first death in the family of our own generation.
So Pat touched on that when he started Grace, and although he is probably the strongest of the siblings, he still got choked up part way through.
Loudon Wainright III: Older Than My Old Man Now
I first heard Loudon Wainright III on was with Album III back in 1972. (Remember “Dead Skunk”? It’s the leadoff track here.)
It was a good, but not great, album. LWIII was obviously talented, brutally honest, and funny. But maybe a bit too clever. His songs have always been autobiographical, but while writing about being a bit of a jerk can provide entertainment, it can also be limiting.
Well, he’s been at it for decades now, and you could count on hearing him on your local Americana station on a regular basis with a funny, clever or topical song. He was probably no one’s absolute favorite, but he was always damned good.
But now, after two failed marriages and finding himself older than his dad was when he died, he’s having to come to terms with big things, like family, aging, illness, and well, dying.
In doing so after all these years, he approaches greatness.
LWIII touches on a number of styles here: blues, talking folk, cabaret, ballads. These are tried and true vehicles for such subject matter.
He's always had a pleasant voice, but it seems to suit him and his themes a lot better now. Instead of being youthful and callow, it’s now aged, and still funny as hell.
It starts off okay, with a slick, jazzy tune that introduces the themes but that's a bit too general about them.
But after that, things kick up a notch or two with “In C” which both spoofs the somber solo piano arrangement he’s using while simultaneously kicking ass with it. The lyrics are mordantly funny, but deadly serious, with the following summary of his first marriage:
But I blame myself
And I blame her
The cruel and foolish people that we were
This is followed by the title song, an acoustic blues number about how his father’s death should have freed him from their tempestuous relationship, but only left him adrift. He starts it off by reading a piece by his father, about the very same thing.
“Double Lifetime” - a talking folk song - is about wanting more time, since we tend to f*ck up the time we’ve been given. And as more time goes by, this request seems eminently reasonable to me.
And he keeps at it, mixing styles and inviting his ex-wife and kids along.
The best of these family collaborations is probably the one with his son Rufus ,"The Days That We Die". Their relationship has been troubled and the song is about, well, troubled father-son relationships. Because the cycle continues.
And then there's "My Meds" which I can definitely relate to, and the hilarious “I Remember Sex”, a duet with Dame Edna.
Another highlight is “Somebody Else” with Chris Smithers - whose sandpaper voice is the perfect foil for LWIII's smooth tenor. It’s about the guilt and, yes relief, you feel when you hear about someone else’s death:
He was a guy, just somebody I knew
Once he paid me a compliment, right out of the blue
I was so relieved it was he who was dead
Just a guilty survivor, could’ve been me instead
The peak may be the wordless interlude near the end. Just LWIII humming tunefully. Those few seconds contain all the joy life can bring despite the pain and loss contained in all the other songs.
But even with that, he’s smart enough to end it with “No Tomorrow”, which gives good advice yet pulls no punches.
So, like the life he’s lived for the last seventy-one years, this record is filled with ups and downs. Sometimes hilarious, brutal or tragic. Sometimes all three at the same time. But always true.
They say living well is the best revenge.
Hell, sometimes just living is.
A
We usually force one of the kids to do it, 'cause that’s one of the fun things parents get to do. But this year my older brother Pat volunteered.
2017 was a tough year for us, with several of our relatives passing away. Mom was bad enough, but the hits kept coming, with Uncle Pat and Aunt Theresa, too. And all that by March.
The kicker, though, was our cousin Gene, who was just a couple of years older than us. It was the first death in the family of our own generation.
So Pat touched on that when he started Grace, and although he is probably the strongest of the siblings, he still got choked up part way through.
Loudon Wainright III: Older Than My Old Man Now
I first heard Loudon Wainright III on was with Album III back in 1972. (Remember “Dead Skunk”? It’s the leadoff track here.)
It was a good, but not great, album. LWIII was obviously talented, brutally honest, and funny. But maybe a bit too clever. His songs have always been autobiographical, but while writing about being a bit of a jerk can provide entertainment, it can also be limiting.
Well, he’s been at it for decades now, and you could count on hearing him on your local Americana station on a regular basis with a funny, clever or topical song. He was probably no one’s absolute favorite, but he was always damned good.
But now, after two failed marriages and finding himself older than his dad was when he died, he’s having to come to terms with big things, like family, aging, illness, and well, dying.
In doing so after all these years, he approaches greatness.
LWIII touches on a number of styles here: blues, talking folk, cabaret, ballads. These are tried and true vehicles for such subject matter.
He's always had a pleasant voice, but it seems to suit him and his themes a lot better now. Instead of being youthful and callow, it’s now aged, and still funny as hell.
It starts off okay, with a slick, jazzy tune that introduces the themes but that's a bit too general about them.
But after that, things kick up a notch or two with “In C” which both spoofs the somber solo piano arrangement he’s using while simultaneously kicking ass with it. The lyrics are mordantly funny, but deadly serious, with the following summary of his first marriage:
But I blame myself
And I blame her
The cruel and foolish people that we were
This is followed by the title song, an acoustic blues number about how his father’s death should have freed him from their tempestuous relationship, but only left him adrift. He starts it off by reading a piece by his father, about the very same thing.
“Double Lifetime” - a talking folk song - is about wanting more time, since we tend to f*ck up the time we’ve been given. And as more time goes by, this request seems eminently reasonable to me.
And he keeps at it, mixing styles and inviting his ex-wife and kids along.
The best of these family collaborations is probably the one with his son Rufus ,"The Days That We Die". Their relationship has been troubled and the song is about, well, troubled father-son relationships. Because the cycle continues.
And then there's "My Meds" which I can definitely relate to, and the hilarious “I Remember Sex”, a duet with Dame Edna.
Another highlight is “Somebody Else” with Chris Smithers - whose sandpaper voice is the perfect foil for LWIII's smooth tenor. It’s about the guilt and, yes relief, you feel when you hear about someone else’s death:
He was a guy, just somebody I knew
Once he paid me a compliment, right out of the blue
I was so relieved it was he who was dead
Just a guilty survivor, could’ve been me instead
The peak may be the wordless interlude near the end. Just LWIII humming tunefully. Those few seconds contain all the joy life can bring despite the pain and loss contained in all the other songs.
But even with that, he’s smart enough to end it with “No Tomorrow”, which gives good advice yet pulls no punches.
So, like the life he’s lived for the last seventy-one years, this record is filled with ups and downs. Sometimes hilarious, brutal or tragic. Sometimes all three at the same time. But always true.
They say living well is the best revenge.
Hell, sometimes just living is.
A
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