Opposites Detract

 This one is about Lou Reed and King Crimson. 

The reason I wrote that sentence is because those two names have probably never been in the same one. The very idea of it would piss off Lou Reed to no end. And since he can't retaliate, well, he'll have to settle for turning over in his grave. (Wait, wasn't he cremated?)

Anyway, I got these records as presents this year and it occurred to me they couldn't possibly be more different. 

One was recorded at the beginning of a career, the other well into it.

One is bombastic and pretentious, the other calm and matter-of-fact.

One stresses virtuosity and technique. The other is more or less just banged out.

One comprises four or five lengthy epics, the other fifteen shorter ones.

One is a fantasy that would make Tolkien roll his eyes, the other a reportage of a man's life and death.

One I enjoy despite nearly being crushed under its avalanche of sound, the other doesn't give a damn if I like it or not, and is, in fact, damn good.

Even the cover art differs.

One thing they have in common, though, is that Robert Fripp appears to be almost as big an asshole as Lou Reed.

King Crimson: In the Court of the Crimson King (1969)

I remember sitting on Eileen's family's stoop with Eddie and maybe Mike, listening to maybe Cream, when Kevin McGowan came walking up the block with an album he just bought at Korvette's. He pulled it out of the bag to reveal the red (okay, crimson) guy and his uvula (I almost wrote "urethra". What an album that would'a been!) and possibly his adenoids.

Covers being all important back then (summer of 1970?), we were impressed, and admitted it beat out Wheel's of Fire. Over the years I'd hear the title song, and caught a snippet of another on Adolph's Kanye's Mein Kampf Dark Fantasy record. 

But that was it, and all I'd ever hear from almost anyone was "oh, you gotta get it!". And I planned to but held back, probably due to Xgau's D+ grade and review ("...ersatz shit"...).  But finally my curiosity got the best of me.

Firstly, it's a hoot, in a non-fun kind of way. What I mean is that I'm having a hoot at the utter seriousness of it all. Plus I'm impressed that they got to do this at all, in a simpler, more innocent time, when all they had to worry about was wars and assassinations.

I don't mean to be condescending. What the hell do I know anyway?  Greg Lake's singing is endearing, and the rest are great musicians with vision who just don't happen to play music I'm inclined to put on.  It must have sounded wild at the time. Even Awesome actually, back when awesome was enough.

There's plenty of sixties music I happily listen to to this day. But Prog Rock (my fond memories of Nektar's Remember the Future not withstanding) has a built-in expiration date. In what should have been a perfect fit for me, such seriousness is directly aimed at equally serious (i.e., not getting laid) teenagers who will eventually have to lighten up. A sense of humor would help - the music and the teen-ager.

Otherwise, I'm just there for a visit - and the 50th Anniversary edition, with at least three versions of each song, is a long visit - and then I gotta go. 

B+

"Epitaph"

Lou Reed and John Cale: Songs for Drella (1990)

Not very "lyrical". Just a recounting of Andy Warhol's life by two artists who knew him. And it's all the more touching because I don't feel like I'm being coerced into liking it, which is a hazard for tributes of this sort.

The music, too, is right-to-the-point-simple, but with arrangements more varied than what Reed was doing at the time, which was the straight-ahead electric rock and roll of New York. Even at its loudest, this one - like his subsequent Magic and Loss, which also deals with the death of friends - is calmer than any of those records. 

Estranged at the time of Warhol's death, Reed is regretful that they didn't patch things up. He even admits some fault. What a relief! 

Cale is tuneful and stoic, even with Lou breathing down his neck. Who knew they'd be able to play together again? Not them, certainly. They would take another stab at fellowship after this, with the European reunion tour of the Velvet Underground. It's a shame that one didn't turn out so well as this. 

I guess, in order for it to work, it's got to come from the heart.

A-

Thank God

The Jesus People showed up in our neighborhood in late 1974. I was seventeen. How do I remember you ask? 

Well, one of them mocked me for having the latest issue of Rolling Stone with me instead of the Bible. It would have been futile to explain that I just had to read the review of Jackson Browne's new album, Late for the Sky. (A rave, of course.)

She was the bad cop among many good cops who tried instead to inspire me to accept Jesus. How could I explain, after having gone to 8am mass every weekday from fourth through eighth grade I had probably spent more time with JC than all of them combined? 

They were talking about quality time, I guess. (One's mind does wander a bit during the eucharist.)  But I think we all know what an overrated concept that is, even now that it's dressed up as "mindfulness". 

I promised I would think about it that night. In doing so I concluded that JC and I had already worked out a perfectly good arrangement, which was to acknowledge each other's existence with a nod and a wave when we passed each other on Fifth Avenue and pick up a round at the bar. My creed amounted to something along the lines of "Let's Just Give Each Other Some Space, Okay?". 

So how was I going to explain this to the Jesus People? But that's when the Miracle happened.

I never saw them again.

The six of them had been ensconced in a loft above the A&P right across from Johnny's Pizzeria where I hung out. So I figured they'd be around for a while. But no. They dropped off the face of the earth. Did the rapture occur and I didn't know it? 

Can you imagine my embarrassment if I had accepted Jesus only to find myself the lone Jesus Person in Sunset Park? I guess I assumed I would live with the cult little group in the loft. That itself would have been an issue as at the time I was spending way too much time in the bathroom trying to get my hair just right. (High school-era photos indicate I failed.)

Anyway, after listening to the record below, I realized how the Jesus People might have succeeded in converting me if they had only written some good songs.

Judee Sill: The Asylum Years 

Now that's quite the title, isn't it? Rest assured, they're talking about the record label, not the place. 

As a matter of fact, Sill's first album was the first one ever put out by Asylum. It would soon be followed by ones by (well whaddya know,) Jackson Browne, Joni Mitchell, and the Eagles.  This two-CD set consists of her two Asylum albums plus a bunch of demos and live versions. The consistency in quality throughout is remarkable, and I have no problem playing it all the way through. 

I should point out that Mrs. Jaybee - the more religious of one of us - is not on board. (Heathen!)

Now, I'm so agnostic I'm agnostic about agnosticism. As such, I'm not very into gospel music (although I'll admit I'm missing something) and not at all into "Christian Music". There's a very practical reason: listening to someone get praised is boring (except - oddly enough - "Praise You" by Fatboy Slim).

One of the few books I put down without finishing was The City of God, by St. Augustine, because it just goes on about how great god is. And since the author is speaking directly to God my BS detector went off and it smelled like one huge suck-up.

But someone who is plain-spoken in her faith and writes great melodies that span folk, country, and gospel, will always have my ear. Add to that, a good voice and clean, simple production and consistency and it's hard to resist, no matter how much I doubt. 

One caveat is that her beliefs could be categorized as "old-time religion" - referencing lambs, soldiers of love, Jesus as bridegroom, and even the rapture. She'd give the Jesus People a run for their money.

A complicated person, to say the least, there are even some drug references in these songs. This would later come back to haunt her. A serious car accident got her addicted to painkillers and she died in 1979 of an overdose.

I wish I had known at that time. I would have prayed for her.

A

"Crayon Angels"

Secret History 1981: Shelter from the Storm

Super Secret, Secret History:

Despite the awful events of the prior year, this may be my personal favorite musical year. (Okay, maybe 1967 was better.) It was when I met Mrs. Jaybee, so there was a kind of magic in the air. 

And the music was good, too.  Maybe even better, because of that magic.

So I'll depart momentarily from my usual method of just listing music released in 1981 to convey what else was in the air.

Always trying to impress people with music, I wanted to play stuff the future Mrs. Jaybee would like.

And of course, I'd take to real romantic places like J&R Music World.

Probably the first song I ever played for her was “I Love You” (talk about moving fast!) by the Steve Miller Band. I'd had Anthology for several years already but every few months I'd have the urge to put it on. And there was really no better time than now.

Then I calmed down and played the avalanche of music that I'd acquired recently: 

• Elvis Costello: Trust, Get Happy, Taking Liberties
• Eno - Another Green World, Before and After Science
• David Bowie - Low and Heroes
• And many, many others

And just as George Michael asked of us, she listened without prejudice. Otherwise, things could've ended right there. She would eventually draw the line at Pere Ubu and Captain Beefheart but I came out way ahead on the deal. In so many ways.

Plain Ol' Secret History:

But all that came later. Now I'll get back to my usual method. I'd be lying if I pretended my take on the music wasn't colored by the magic of that year.

Elvis Costello: Trust

With its effortless tunes, most varied arrangements, and great production, this may be his best record.

And this after the previous year's Get Happy (20 songs) and Taking Liberties (20 songs)! The man is a machine!

A

"White Knuckles"

The Psychedelic Furs Talk Talk Talk

Their second, and even better than their first.

This is my idea of great hard rock, with the original and far more powerful "Pretty in Pink". And lots more where that came from.

A 

"No Tears"

X: Wild Gift

Don't let the cramped sound get you down. This is one of the all-time great punk rock records. And an American one at that. Quite the relief after all those Brits.

Led by then couple John Doe (vocals and bass) and Exene Cervenka (vocals) who, in a very strange way, remind me of Paul Kantner and Grace Slick on the Airplane's live stuff.

And they are TIGHT. With actual musical ability, Billy Zoom (guitar, of course!) and DJ Bonebrake (whaddaya think?) make it go, and it GOES!

Discovered and produced by Ray Manzarek (whose organ sorta marred their first record) they avoid that mistake but nonetheless end with the words:

We're waiting for the sun,

For any sun to come.

A

"White Girl"

The English Beat’s - Wha'ppen?

Not as catchy as the relentless I Just Can’t Stop It, but it’s a real grower. It trades forward motion in for texture, as though it's intending to give you time to think after you've done all that dancing.

A

"Get a Job"

David Byrne: The Catherine Wheel

Before Twyla Tharp choreographed Billy Joel, she collaborated with David Byrne, who wrote and performed all new songs and instrumentals, with contributions from Brian Eno, Bernie Worrell, and others.

Never one for/to dance, I didn't see the show and don't care. It’s not as bracing as Talking Heads and not quite as heady as great Eno, but it’s the sweet spot between them. 

A

"Big Blue Plymouth (Eyes Wide Open)"

Tom Verlaine’s Dreamtime

The former guiding light of Television, Verlaine makes another album filled with furious but beautiful guitar sounds. He'd done it with his first solo record, but now erases any remaining doubts by singing - never his strong suit - less.

A-

"There's A Reason"

Yoko Ono’s Season of Glass

Yep, her.

The Beatle-killer's been making music for a long time – longer than the Beatles, actually.  The early stuff was - as you’d expect - "experimental".  But she got more pop as she went along.

I was torn about including this because I still don't know what to make of her as a human. There are just too many... stories.

But there are some excellent songs here, and I will pay this possible devil her due.

A-

"Nobody Sees Me Like You Do"

A Summer for Old Men

Having been less than overwhelmed by the amount of joyful summer music, and quite underwhelmed by a series of "summer reading" novels that were work to get through (Pathfinder, Possession and Green Mars, I'm looking at you), I was willing to entertain music I would normally have postponed until winter.

And was delighted.

Max Richter: The Blue Notebooks (2004)

You may know Max (Mrs. Jaybee and I met him so I feel I'm on a first-name basis with him) for putting his musical stamp on The Leftovers and any number of films. Mrs. Jaybee and I saw him play a number of those pieces live, and took the occasion to get Infra, which he had showcased that evening. It holds up remarkably well on CD, and is one of my favorite CDs of the last decade.

He works foremost with violins and keyboard, adding in various sound and vocal effects along the way. At the show, the house was full of couples holding hands for what is essentially classical music. Now that is no mean feat. 

My favorite Max piece is - of course - "On the Nature of Daylight" which originated on this album (and pops up in Shutter Island). The good news is that almost all of the other cuts strive for a similar intensity of feeling. Almost all succeed.

Either Max has got quite the scam going (the James Taylor of classical music??) or he's found a way to be both experimental and emotional simultaneously. 

I'm glad he's around.

A-

"On the Nature of Daylight"

Thelonious Monk: Monk's Dream (1962)

I've got at least a dozen Monk records now. And a perusal of the titles on this one tells me there's only one composition here that's new to me.

T has a habit of re-recording his compositions, which means I must have at least five to ten versions of most of his songs. You'd think that would be a problem. 

And yet, this one is one of my favorites. The band is on it, as is Monk himself. I can't even say they are the best musicians he's ever had. But they may be the most sympathetic.

Everything here has got that extra added oomph to make you sit up and notice.

A pleasure from beginning to end.

I dream one day of burning all his CDs in order to make a playlist sorted by title. (Eight versions in a row of "Bolivar Blues" anyone?) I might not play it around Mrs. Jaybee though. She tends to notice things like that.

A

All this may encourage me to explore, say, surf music. 

In January maybe?

Secret History - 1980, or I've Got Some Good News and Some Bad News

Now:

Although I got a lot out of my system last time, I'm still stuck between Luciano Pavarotti, the Drive-By Truckers, Dvorak, Lou F*cking Reed, and Sonic Youth. They go together surprisingly well, but because I kept bouncing back and forth between them, I didn't quite connect with any of them.

So, what to do when faced with such musical constipation? Well, the doctors say don't force it. So while we're waiting why not look back?

Greek Chorus: Oh Jesus, another World History Project post? What is it this time, Jaybee? Music by Dinosaurs?

Well, one dinosaur, but it's just the newest Secret History. This is when I look at a year in the past (as opposed to the future, which is much harder) and try to identify some great records released that year that flew under people's radar. This is a different approach than my usual one, which is to write about records when I'm hearing them for the first time, no matter when released.  But don't worry! I will try to make it about me somehow.

Then:

The last Secret History I did was for 1979, which I posted in May of 2018. I paused there because - get this: I thought I was going at too fast a pace. The lesson here, of course, is that I don't procrastinate enough.

I also was hesitant to proceed because it was such a weird year. Great in some ways. Awful in others. Here are some, good to bad, more or less:

1. I became "single" again.
2. I got a new job.
3. I got really into Neil Young.
4. I got my first Clash record.
5. I heard a tremendous amount of good current music.
6. I had a fantastic record store trip, which - after the small steps I took in 1978 and 1979 - was my first major foray into punk/new wave/alternative whatever you want to call it with my first Brian Eno, Bryan Ferry, David Bowie records.
7. Me and Roommate Mike hosted a couple of Swedish hitchhikers who shared a lot of our musical tastes. We hung with them, me taking sick-day here and there. Ah, youth!
8. After a long "uneventful" summer, realized that being single wasn't all that great.
9. We got a new president
10. John Lennon got shot

A couple of notes:

• Nine and ten are kind of a tie. Lennon's death was a reminder that - if you didn't know already - the sixties were quite literally dead. St. Ronnie came in to rein in the "excesses" of the seventies, making things immeasurably worse in the process. The seventies were certainly messy, but they were vibrant, too. 
• I cheated a bit. I found a new girl, but that came at the end, chronologically.

Musically, 1980 strikes me as an "obvious" year. In other words, there were certain major records released then that we can all agree are well, major. London Calling, Remain in Light, and The River all come to mind. And to my misanthropic ears, each is ever so slightly overrated. But it's okay. Things could have been - and would be - much worse.

So here are the ones that matter to me:

The Specials: The Specials

This actually came out in 1979, but I somehow missed that. So I'm cheating to make up for it.

It is, however, one of the best ska revival albums out there. Very spare, almost spectral arrangements. A nice piercing guitar, though.

Gotten in '90 when we were moving from an apartment into our first house. It reminds me of pulling up old carpeting. At the time I thought it was one of the great albums ever, but I was covered in dust at the time.

Highly recommended, nonetheless.

A-

"Little Bitch"

Elvis Costello: Get Happy

I got this in early '81 while getting to know that new girl, so it's got all kinds of romantic memories attached to it that have nothing to do with the music itself.

You know how Elton John kept pumping out albums in the seventies, not all of which were great?

Well, Elvis 2.0, cranked out dozens and dozens of songs from 1980 - 82, twenty of which he put here - not all of which were great. So it's quantity over quality, but a lot of quality anyway. "King Horse", "New Amsterdam", and "Clown Time Is Over" are classics. A bunch more are not far behind. A few are negligible but you'd hardly notice.

Just like Elton.

And for some very odd reason, I play "Side Two" first.

A-

"New Amsterdam"

Pete Townsend: Empty Glass

Gotten in the summer of '80 after the recommendation of our new Swedish friends. We had agreed on Exile on Mainstreet, after all.

By this time I should have been done with this classic rock dinosaur, but Pete really brings it on this record. A bit overdone, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

And he gave me some lyrics to raise my spirits, whose default setting is depressed:

Don't worry smile and dance

You just can't work life out

Don't let down moods entrance you

Take the wine and shout

A-

"Broken Glass"

The Psychedelic Furs: The Psychedelic Furs

Gotten maybe in the mid-80s, after having already gotten their second one - one of the great hard rock albums of that decade.  This one is almost as good.

Richard Butler snarls Johnny Rotten-ish-ly but the band eases off the gas pedal more than the Sex Pistols - who would proceed to drive off a cliff - ever would. The Furs were in it for the long haul. And made more good music.

And when Butler snarls, he's not full of shyte.

A-

"We Love You"

Peter Gabriel: Peter Gabriel

After he left Genesis but before he hit it big, Peter Gabriel put out a few solo records. This one is his third and is generally considered the best before the commercial breakthrough of So.

This one is very serious, and I wish he'd crack a joke occasionally. But "Biko" is so great, all is forgiven.

A-

"Biko"

Crazy Rhythms - The Feelies

Weird, jittery, almost frantic rhythm guitars, resulting in robotic voices because they're trying to keep up. 

But oh so tight.

A-

"Crazy Rhythms"

Albert Hunter: Amtrak Blues

Just a little old lady singing the blues, a piano player, and an audience. 

A joy from start to finish.

A-

"My Handy Man Ain't Handy No More"

Public Image - Second Edition

Also known as Metal Box in England because it came in one there.

Perfect for depression, assuming you want to stay depressed.

I got it in June of '80, but it was so odd, offputting, and flat-out noisy, that I had to put away Johnny Rotten's new band for almost six months. I guess Lennon and Reagan put me in the mood.

Then one cold, dark day, I felt like hearing it. And it hit, hard.  The dub-heavy bass and beats, the most expressive - of horror, that is - electric guitar I have ever heard. And Johnny Rotten proves that he wasn't just a one-trick pony. Of course, he eventually proved to be too clever by one and a half.

The Sex Pistols would hit you over the head but this one gets into it and never leaves.

A

"Poptones"

The English Beat: I Just Can't Stop It 

Maybe the greatest ska revival album. And just like the Specials, two-toned, as they used to say.

So propulsive. So tuneful. And the arrangements are more varied than on the Specials record. And slightly less political, too, which allows the songwriting to be more universal and personal.

A

"Best Friend"

Ahhh, now THAT works better than prune juice.