Secret History: 1979

Welcome to another - and long overdue - edition of Secret History, this time for 1979.

My last one was for 1979 about five years ago. I kinda slacked off, because I was concerned that I was getting too close to the present. (wtf?)

So it’s back, and I’m less sure than ever there’s anything secret about it.

The punk big bang happened in 1977 and the asteroid chunks were still flying around. Everything seemed possible at the time, like 1968 compared to 1967. What could go wrong, right?

While 1978 was a year of consolidation 1979 was a kind of where do we go from here? year. And not all of the directions hinted at really panned out.

We ended up with a lot of great music but it was spread out over too many records. So there were not as many flat-out great albums but a lot of really good ones.

Hey, what do you want? Humans were involved.



The Roches

The first song is so cute I wouldn't blame you for wanting to smash the record into a hundred small pieces. But the rest is so beautiful you end up feeling bad and love it anyway. I’ve been waiting 36 years for Mrs. Jaybee to get past that first song though, so I’m not providing her grade. A



Roxy Music: Manifesto 

With Eno now long gone, RM keeps getting more and more normal, and thus, less powerful. But more fun, too. A-



Gang of Four: Entertainment!

Not much fun here, but pile-driver rhythms, angry politics, and almost disembodied voices. Their best. A



Nick Lowe: Labour of Lust

But fun is important. Good old modern ironic pop music, even if old Nick now swears he was playing it straight the whole time. A-



Graham Parker: Squeezing Out Sparks

I once had the pleasure of hearing this played in its entirety on a beach in the Hamptons, where it pissed off all the right people. What better recommendation can I offer? So intense that it might be better than Heat Treatment or Howlin' Wind.  What?  No way. Way! A



The B-52s

If “52 Girls” is one of the high points of the years, “Dance This Mess Around” is one of the high points of my life, except that (or maybe because) it also clears the room. I recently got into an argument with someone on Facebook about this record. (Someone may have called someone else a Nazi… But that’s not important.) This is one of the most delightfully weird records ever. Who wants rock n' roll to be normal, anyway? And when you get past all that, Kate and Cindi sing great, and the guitar and bass really rock.  A-



Marianne Faithfull: Broken English

“Guilt” was stunning on SNL, so actually listening to the album is a slight let down.

She barely survived the sixties and she’s here to tell you about it. And by the way “now” is not so hot, either. The subject matter was risque for the time, but the music is actually a bit slick.  But that voice cuts right through it.  A-



Michael Jackson: Off the Wall

With rock n' roll revitalized, it would have been easy for me to continue to ignore music by African Americans. I needed this one to remind me that there were other types of vital music that didn’t involve an electric guitar. This is Michael as I like to remember him. From my limited perspective, one of the greatest R&B albums ever. A



Buzzcocks: Singles Going Steady

This being a collection of their first eight singles (all the side As on side one of the album and all the side Bs on side 2), it could be considered a bit of a cheat, but surely it’s one of the best records of the era. A


I purposely omitted some records, like Rust Never Sleeps, because it's too fucking obvious (it's supposed to be a secret history, remember?), and others like Fear of Music, Breakfast in America and Damn the Torpedos because they’re overrated. (Sorry Tom!).

Now, looking at the above I wonder what my reservations about this year were exactly. Probably the stuff I left out.

My next Secret History will be the first step into that hellscape that is the 1980s...

Life of Brian, Part Two

My album database (yes, I have an album database, doesn’t everybody?) shows that I have more Albums by the Beatles than any other artist, by a wide margin. But if I were able to count by how many times an artist simply appeared on or participated in a record in some fashion, I think Eno would win it. He’s just all over the place.

So, as promised, here’s a quick rundown of records Brian Eno was involved with, limited, of course, by my knowledge:


Eno As Bandmate:


Roxy Music (1972)

Their first, with a lot of weird but infectious tunes and Phil Manzanera playing some great guitar. It almost all comes together, too, especially when they just. rock. out. I suspect Eno’s one reason it doesn’t. But Bryan Ferry’s hyper-vibrato (think the Little Rascals dog Petey on the weight loss machine) is kind of off-putting, too.  B+

"Virginia Plain"



For Your Pleasure (1973)

I already had this disappointing record on cassette and thought I’d give it another try on CD. Maybe the sound would be better. And it is, a bit, but not the music.

Their first record at least seemed to be the product of a single (demented) mind. This one has two sensibilities at war with neither one winning.

Bryan Ferry was the lead singer/songwriter of the band  and arch-nemesis of Eno. It just goes to show you can only have one Brian in a band at a time, and if you have to have two, for heaven’s sake have them spell it the same way.

It was probably a good thing Eno split. Both he and Roxy Music would go onto better things, like one of my all time favorites Siren.

But they’re not there yet.   B+

“Do the Strand”



Eno Goes Solo: 


Here Come the Warm Jets (1974)

His first solo record after leaving Roxy Music, he’s now unleashed and comes on like gangbusters. Jets is an aggressively harsh and twisted affair, yet with some wonderful tunes mixed in.

Weird and fun and in your face. it’s a favorite of Enophiles. He’s got something to prove, but I think he’s trying to do too much at one time.  He’d soon settle in for the long haul, and learn to modulate the craziness. He’s only getting started. B+

“Cindy Tells Me”



Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy) (1974)

His second, and my favorite of the pop-oriented ones.

At first, frustrating but it would grow on me. And hearing it again after all these years, the experiments work, and the willfully weird stuff is just plain fun. The production is clearer here and he’s not trying so hard. The songs are more tuneful and imaginatively arranged overall.
Sorry Friend Mike , but this one’s made me what I am today (which may explain a lot more than I had in mind).

And while I’ll admit, it’s still not “going to the beach” music, it is music for a long drive. Mrs. Jaybee specifically requested it while coming home from a long weekend away last month. A

“Mother Whale Eyeless”



Another Green World (1975)

And here is where the big change occurs.  He’d been preparing for it on side projects with Robert Fripp.

He takes a step back from the everything-and-the-kitchen-sink approach of the prior two records. Instead, this one is minimal, and mostly instrumental, but eerie, beautiful, serene, and a little scary. It’s still in my all-time top five.

And he would continue down this path for many years.

One could argue that New Age starts here, but at best it’s a stepchild, albeit one that made all the cash. See Pure Moods.

Instead of the warm embrace of simple “prettiness” the Eno I know always holds back a little, or throws a monkey wrench in. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. A+

“Everything Merges With the Night”



Discreet Music (1975)

And he goes even further - and maybe too far - here, devoting side one to 30 minutes of slightly varying tape loops that result in a kind of background music but with ever-shifting tones. He says it’s intended to be played at a volume just below audible, which is just one step away from 4’33, if you ask me. I still want to hear the damned thing, after all.

But when you do, you kind of know where he’s coming from with it. In its way, the very definition of serenity.

Side two comprises three slightly different experimental takes on Pachelbel’s Canon that are each nice enough, but when played one after the other, a bit much.

So, not a bullseye, but very worthwhile. B+

"Discreet Music"



Before and After Science (1978)

He pulls back a little here, coming back to earth on side one. which is devoted to pop-oriented cuts, but then goes off into space again for most of side two, which is quite lovely.

Overall a good summation of what he was up to at the time. A-

“Spider and I”



Ambient 1: Music for Airports (1978)

One cut, a simple piano figure played over and over.  Another, harmony vocals only  Another a combination of the two. And finally a vintage Eno synthesizer buzz out.

Ambient? I guess. But simple and beautiful.  A-

“1/1”



Eno the Collaborator:

The big mystery for me is what the hell he was doing in 1976.

But in 1977 he goes to Berlin with David Bowie.



Low (1977)

Hard, sloppy rock on side one, and very Eno ambient on side two. Arguably my favorite Bowie album.  A-
“Subterraneans”



“Heroes” (1977)

The same structure as Low. The rock on side one is edgier and and the ambient on side two more daring.  Overall, very good, Low edges it out slightly. A-

“Moss Garden”



Lodger (1979)

The experiments here are in the songs themselves rather than the sound. A perfectly good record, but the weakest of the three. B+

“Boys Keep Swinging”



Talking Heads: More Songs About Buildings and Food  (1978)

And then in 1978 he heads to NYC. And when you hang around the coolest places, you meet the coolest bands. And so now he acts as producer and fifth band member of Talking Heads, shifting them (and me) into a different direction.  Melodic, harsh, funky, beautiful.  One of my all time favorites. Definitely in the top 25. A

“The Big Country”



Fear of Music (1979)

This one’s a bit of a letdown because David Byrne’s songwriting opts for the weird instead of the melodic. Not Eno’s fault, I don’t think.  B+

“Paper”



Remain in Light (1980)

Ah, now that’s better! The songwriting and the band and Eno are all on one page and the results are wonderful. But by now the other Heads want to toss Eno out of the band.  A-

“Born Under Punches”



David Byrne/Brian Eno: My Life in the Bush of Ghosts (1981)

This was actually being worked on before Remain in Light and can be seen as the intense experimentation that would eventually lead to the relatively pop(!) of that record. Made up of snippets of radio broadcasts of some very charismatic preachers (the main inspiration for David Byrne’s vocals on RIL), and the musical arrangements designed to fit around their vocal tics and rhythms. This works a lot better than one would expect. Not for parties, but very intense and interesting throughout.  B+

“Help Me Somebody”



David Byrne: The Catherine Wheel (1981)

Music from the dance production of the same name, and a great balance of songwriting and overall sound.  Eno’s really just a sideman here. Officially at least. But the music is right out of Eno territory throughout. An extremely underrated record.  A

“Two Soldiers”



Jon Hassell/Brian Eno: Fourth World: Possible Musics (1981)

A collaboration with Jon Hassell - an Ocean of Sound  conspirator.  The wind instruments give this a Middle Eastern sound, but with some fog and electronica.  Not much fun, but by the time it’s over you’ve definitely been somewhere.  B+

“Delta Rain Dream”



Apollo: Atmospheres and Soundtracks (1983)

Eno’s attempt to provide a soundtrack to the Apollo missions, and a pretty darned good one.  His brother Roger and colleague Daniel Lanois share the billing.

I often can’t tell the difference between what would sound good late night vs good early morning music. Not anymore. This is definitely a night album.

It’s a bit schizophrenic, though.  Eno supplies the deep space buzz, but then Lanois comes on with the more poppy guitar. They eventually split the difference and it ends up being a distant cousin to Another Green World.  That’s a compliment.  A-

“An Ending (Ascent)”



The Pearl: (1984)

A mid-80s ambient collaboration with jazz(-ish) pianist Harold Budd (another contributor to Ocean of Sound).

The formula here seems to be short piano melodies treated with echoes. The sound of a glacier (if the glacier played the piano). Every time I put this on, I hear something different. I don’t mean a different detail or a different aspect. The whole thing sounds different.

As ambient goes this one is pretty chilly. Must be all that ice, even if it is melting.

So why can’t I stop listening to it?  A-

“A Stream With Bright Fish”




John Cale/Brian Eno: Wrong Way Up  (1990)

He spends the next few years with U2, producing the underrated Unforgettable Fire and the slightly overrated Joshua Tree and Achtung Baby, which probably got him interested in trying pop music again.

As I said last year it took me a little time to love this record because it was so damned normal. But love it, I do.  A-

“Crime in the Desert”


And On and On and On...

And that’s only brings us up until 1990.

He’d go on to produce many other artists, including Coldplay, Sinead O’Connor and James. Wikipedia credits him with 43(!) production jobs.

And I’m not done yet, either. I’ve still got to check out Music for Films, and Roxy Music’s third (and first post-Eno record) Stranded.

But I think I’ll stop there.  Rumor has it there are other artists out there, too.


Recommendations:

Before and After Science if you want to get the gist of it and still enjoy yourself
Wrong Way Up for fun
Another Green World if you’re ready to explore, well, another world.
Music for Airports for surprisingly simple and straightforward beauty
Taking Tiger Mountain if you want to hear something forty years old that still sounds fresh and strange.
Low if you want to hear how Eno could impact an already well respected artist.

Life - or at least Year - of Brian, Part One

Like a frenemy at work, but way more interesting, Brian Eno has this way of insinuating himself into the most unexpected places. He’s got more mentions in my blog than anyone else, except the Beatles, of course.

You don’t think you’ve heard him but you have. If not his own recordings, certainly his collaborations with Talking Heads, David Bowie, Devo, U2 and a slew of other artists. He even tried to make Coldplay sound interesting again and almost succeeded.

I have a number of his records but I hadn’t gotten anything by him in years.

And yet, he ended up being my Artist of the Year for 2015.

Let me explain.


1972:

While carefully studying the latest issue of National Lampoon, I came across an ad for Roxy Music’s second album, where I first saw Eno. My reaction was one of utter revulsion.

If I thought at the time that David Bowie must have sucked because he was acting gay (what can I say?, I was 15), or that the New York Dolls couldn’t have any talent because they dressed like women, then the made up, strutting, boa-wearing, aggressively androgynous (and on top of all that, balding!) Eno seemed like the worst of the worst.

Here he is at the time:



As you can see, he dressed on the extreme end of the glitter rock spectrum and, like Bowie, was a prime target for anyone with an ax to grind about spectacle as a distraction from music (a legitimate concern), or effeminate guys in general (not so much).

Mind you, I hadn’t yet heard any of the music made by him, Bowie or the Dolls. It wasn’t my finest hour.


1975:

Now at college, prowling the music library I dug up some old issues Stereo Review, and came across a review of one of Eno’s early solo records. The review used the term “rip off rock”. And not in a nice way.

Now it could have been written by someone who genuinely didn’t like the record (I forget which one it was), but it sure had the stench of someone who’d made up his mind before putting it on. And it had the effect of reinforcing my prejudices, and boy did I cling to them.


1978:

It’s pretty clear by this time that Brian Eno was the kind of guy you were less likely to be into if you were into Classic Rock a la Bruce Springsteen, Boston or Led Zeppelin. You’d have had to stray to where, say, the Velvet Underground broke off in their own direction in the late 60s.

And I stayed on the main path, until I finally got curious enough to try Talking Heads More Songs About Buildings and Food - a life changing record (all time top 25) that I don’t enthusiastically recommend to people just because I love it. It’s just a bit too weird, but exactly the amount of weird I needed at the time.

And who’s name did I find on the back? Eno, of course.

By this time, I was having trouble separating him from Bryan Ferry (his old Roxy Music bandmate), and Peter Gabriel from Genesis. (All of them weird Brits.) But his name just kept popping up all over the damn place, and always with the coolest bands.

There was even some graffiti spotted in the Village that said “Eno is God”.  Move over, Eric Clapton!


1980: 

It’s June and I’m supposed to be studying for a final but am instead at J&R Music World, in what would become one of the great record store trips of my life, picking up a sh*tload of records that would push me further down that alternat(iv)e path.

Earlier that year, there was an extensive overview of the music of 1970s in the Village Voice. It piqued my curiosity, and I made some mental notes, but like a good schoolboy, committed to doing nothing about it until finals were over.

I almost made it, too. I told myself I’d be in the store for only an hour or so. Plenty of time to study, I said. I ended up spending half the day there, and only managed about an hour of half-hearted studying in the school library.  Got an A, though!

One of the records mentioned a few times in that article was Eno’s Taking Tiger Mountain (By Strategy).  It was cited by at least two critics, who put it in their list of top ten records of the decade. So I decided that was a good place to start.

Ah kids, watch out for those gateway drugs!

I listened to this record for months - not always in complete ecstasy, mind you.  There was a lot of exasperation, too, as I tried to understand some of the weird things going on.  Friend, and then Roommate, Mike looked back on that time and said “Man, that was a terrible album.”

And I can understand his reaction. Mine was more mixed. There were several great pop moments mixed in with a lot of oddity and experimentation. I couldn’t quite love it because of this seeming inconsistency.

I may have related playing it while getting ready to go to the beach, and was pointedly told it was not “getting ready to go to the beach music”.  My first lesson in context.

But it persisted over the years. becoming a sort of go-to record. And Mrs. Jaybee would tell me she knew I was feeling a little down when I’d put it on.

If I was smarter, I’d give up on things when they first perplexed me. But instead, later that summer I’d double down on Eno and get Another Green World. This turned out to be one of my rare good decisions because it became one of my top five all time favorite albums.

During that same record trip, I’d finally broken down and gotten David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust and the Spider’s From Mars. (What, no New York Dolls, you ask? That's another post.) And now having had David break my cherry, I remembered how Childhood Friend Doreen told me how great Low
was way back in 1977, so at the end of 1980, while trying to repeat the great June record store trip and coming pretty close,  I picked it up, along with “Heroes”.

And I turn the record over, and who’s name do I find? Eno, again.

It turned out that Eno collaborated with Bowie on both records, with Bowie dedicating most of side two (remember side two?) of each record to the tracks that were very Eno-ish.  They would turn out to be a among my very favorite records. Definitely top 100.

Over the next few years, I’d move on to his other 70s records and some ambient stuff, but as time passed I heard Eno the same way you did - as a producer.

Oh, there were the occasional knockout pull-the-car-over-and-just-listen moments, like “Ms. Sarajevo” with U2 and Luciano f*cking Pavarotti. in 1995, but otherwise I decided there were other artists who deserved my attention more, and stopped buying his records.


2015:

So he starts throwing spitballs at me via Shutter Island and Ocean of Sound, with “Lizard Point”, which I still can’t hear.  But you now know how I react to exasperation.

So I thought, okay dude, let’s see what you (still) got, and got Wrong Way Up, which turned out to be one of the musical highlights of the year.

And then I read the liner notes to Yellow Moon and there he is again.

So in the fall, I’m in a record store - I don’t have enough records, you see - and spot a leaflet for a show called “Music for Enophiles” which turned out to be a tribute band doing covers of Eno’s solo work from 1974-1979 - his prime pop period.

Now, one of the things I love about Mrs. Jaybee how she always surprises me. I thought I’d have to drag her to this show, but she reminded me that she liked Brian Eno, too. He was, after all, the soundtrack to our lives when we first started dating.

The band came on and reminded us how powerful these forty year old songs were. We had a great time but I didn’t recognize the last song. So I asked one of the singers, and it turned out to be the title song of his first record Here Come the Warm Jets. How did I not recognize this song? I’d clearly been away too long.

So I decided to give him another try and got The Pearl.

And another, and got Apollo.

And finally, decided to pick up Taking Tiger Mountain on CD.

Oh, and I also got Roxy Music’s second album - For Your Pleasure -  on CD because he’s on that too.

To the point that I came to realize that it’s Brian world and I’m just living in it. Or may he’s still God, and when he loses a sandal, half of his fans get rid of one of their’s, too.

And in case the earlier picture has frightened you off, here’s a picture of him now:



See?  He turned out just like you and me.

Next, I’ll give a quick roundup of his music - limited by what I know, which is at most 30% of his overall output - and make some recommendations.

See you then.

"Burning Airlines Give You So Much More"

Secret History: 1975

What was the world at large listening to during 1975? Dylan, of course. Springsteen, or course. Me, too. I had a mixtape made up mostly of just the two of them. I played it during one of my senior class trips, which tried the patience of a classmate, who wanted to put on “Disco Tex and His Sex-o-lettes”. He’d have his revenge in a year or two.



But what was the year like? It’s hard to objectively say since so much seemed to happen to me. There was heartbreak, high school graduation, getting a driver’s license. I guess the normal stuff associated with turning 18.




Some memories: It’s January, and I’m trying to study for the regents, but the radio plays “Blood on the Tracks” all the way through. It’s the first time I’m hearing it. Then June, at the beach during another class trip, I hear “Born to Run” for the first time. Then hearing Springsteen live from the Bottom Line. Buying “The Basement Tapes”. Yeah, they pretty much owned the year.




But there were other records, too, and many that would become my all time favorites:



Well, there’s Neil Young’s “Tonight’s the Night”, but I already go on about that record far too much.



Then there’s “Siren”, by Roxy Music, where Bryan Ferry seemed to get the last laugh on Brian Eno, by making this not very weird pop record. It’s a great expression of his romanticism, and doesn't skimp on guitar either. “Love is the Drug“ is the "hit" but there are plenty of others that are just as good.




But, of course, Brian Eno is doing just fine, and “Another Green World” is another all time favorite. It's just too difficult to explain.




"Katy Lied" is probably my favorite Steely Dan album. It's got “Doctor Wu”, “Any World I'm Welcome To” and several other very emotional songs from a band that would normally be snickering.




“The Basement Tapes” by Bob Dylan and the Band, is probably the most consistent double album ever made. I can still listen to it all the way through without stopping. A lot of people just don't get it, but it's the perfect distillation of Dylan and Band at one time. So what if the sound is lousy? Just pretend you're listening to it on your old Victrola.






And here are a few records that I missed at the time, but I’ve been trying to make it up to ever since:




Newly minted respected author and photographer Patti Smith could actually get her first album “Horses” played on the radio back then, even though her band were proto-punks, and she wasn’t the greatest singer. In a normal year, she would have been called on all the hype she got, but remember this was the year of the Boss on the cover of Time and Newsweek. She risked looking ridiculous waxing poetic about “boney maroni”. But if you ask me, she holds up better than Genesis.




I couldn’t say if “Natty Dread” is Bob Marley’s best album or not, but it seems to be as good a place to start as any. The production is warm and intimate. It’s rousing and soothing at the same time. “Lively Up Yourself” is just wonderful.




Nils Lofgren had a few lives before becoming an E streeter, one as the leader of the band Grin, who I'll have to sample before I die. Then there was a short stint with Crazy Horse, and doing sessions with people like Neil Young. But he was also a solo artist. He's put out several records, but I've been told that his first is the keeper, and I believe it.




Nils runs through some high strung pop and rock. He's a really sharp guitarist with his own distinctive style. His songwriting is very tight, too. Highlights include “Back It Up”, Carole King's “Going Back”, and “Keith (yes that Keith) Don't Go”. To Toronto, that is, where our favorite rock and roller was in a bit of a spot with the police. My brother hates this record.




The Ramones first album might seem like a gaunlet being thrown down, but it's more of a beer can being squirted in your face. The suds get in your ears so the great production values ($6,000 worth!) are somewhat muffled. No sensitive singer, no guitar solos, can you blame me for hating them on principal? Plus, there was so much other great music going on that I didn’t realize that it was all dying. So I didn't get around to even trying them out until 1979.




Dolly Parton managed to put together another “Best of”, and it’d only been five years since the last one. This one’s just as good, too. Beautiful voice, great songwriting.




If you knew nothing of New Orleans – and I didn’t at the time – you could look at the cover of the “Wild Tchoupitoulas” and feel like you were getting Native American music. As it turns out, you’re merely seeing the band decked out in ceremonial garb for Mardi Gras. And the music inside is as simple and fun as any you’re likely to hear. This is a great place to start to learn about New Orleans music. Not for snobs, though.




Which narrative do you believe about Keith Jarrett? The one that says he's hardly a jazz musician at all? Or that he completely clears his mind of any musical thoughts before a concert, and does pure improvisation? “The Koln Concert” is a great way to make up your mind. Sixty five minute of just Keith playing his piano. The sound is amazing.






Whatever else it was, 1975 was also the beginning of the end for what would later be known as classic rock. Anything else that was good was being forced further out onto the fringes, only to come back and haunt good old rock and roll for years to come.


And like I said, although it isn’t thought of as a great year for music, I still considered it one of the best. But I’m open to the possibility that for once life made music better rather than the other way around.

Big Brother Is Listening For You

The Song Remains the Same:

There’s this song that I like.  Do you know it?  It kind of goes like…well, I can’t sing.  But the words are about…well, I forget.  But you know which one I’m talking about, right? 

Why, of course!  What, am I a mind reader?

And mind reading alone wouldn’t cut it, since when you did read that mind, it might be blank.  You would need something stronger.

But isn’t it great when our friends attribute such magical powers to us?  It’s like when they ask you if you saw that movie they loved.  You know the one, right?  Of course, they’ve forgotten the title.  (I spend my life trying to forget the movies I hated.  How is it that they forget the ones they loved?)  It’s the one with that guy in it. 

Oh, yeah.   That one. 

As dumb as this all sounds, it appears that I’ve lowered the bar even further, because there really is this song I like - I know the title and how it goes.  It’s not that I don’t remember what song it is.  I just don’t remember which song it is (although “Pictures of Matchstick Men”, “The Mighty Quinn” and “Hurdy Gurdy Man” are among the usual suspects)  And it’s important because this song has an usual history for me. 

Most people I know have a system for judging music.  They:

1. Listen to a song
2. Decide that they either:
1. Like it
2. Don’t like it.

That’s pretty much it.  It’s a simple system, really.  And I occasionally use it, but not for this song. 

Around the time I turned forty, this song went from the Hate It column to the Like It column.  This isn’t unusual – our tastes do change.  Songs that first sat in one column move to the other, and vice versa.  It’s just a matter of running the song through the system again, only this time you get a different result.

But the weird thing about this song is that, when I turned forty, I admitted to myself that I liked it, and probably always did.
So why would I lie to myself and tell myself I didn’t?  Well, it was because my big brother didn’t like it.

No, not the well-respected, fifty-ish family man who's a year older than me now, but rather, the nine-year-old (but still a year older than me) then.  Now, as smart as he is, and was, perhaps I shouldn’t have been so beholden to his opinion.  So, after thirty years, I came to the inescapable conclusion that I had no reason to dislike the song other than the fact that a nine year old boy disliked it.  In 1966.

But by 1997, I was ready to come out from behind my brother’s nine year old shadow, and begin to think for myself.  A somewhat less than inspiring coming of old age story, I’ll admit.

And who knows?  Maybe even he likes the song now.  If I could remember which one it was, I’d ask.


Mom's Listening, Too:

I’m not saying that it took me forty years to figure out my own musical tastes, and suddenly throw out all the records my brother liked.  It’s just that my experience with this song is a good example of how you can think you’re having your own thoughts when you’re really having someone else’s.

In the early seventies, my brother and I stood united on all the crucial musical issues of the day (Grateful Dead vs. Led Zeppelin, Allman Brothers vs. Led Zeppelin, Beatles vs. Led Zeppelin, etc.).   But there were isolated episodes when I wandered off the righteous path.  So I guess my own thoughts were starting to form…


1971
Elton John: Tumbleweed Connection
I seem to remember getting a less than enthusiastic reaction to this one.  Being an Irish household, it may have been that all non-Beatle Brits were suspect.  I know that my mom wasn’t happy that I spent my allowance on it, as the following primal scene attests:
Mom:  What happened to all your money?
Me:     I spent it.
Enter, two younger sisters, as Greek chorus, to provide moral support, to my mom as it turned out.
Mom:  On What?
Me:     An album.
Greek Chorus Younger Sisters: A sharp intake of breath, in unison.
Mom:  What album?
Me:     Tumbleweed Connection
Mom:  I prefer his first record.  How much was it?
Me:     Three dollars.
GCYS:Very, very sharp intake of breath.  In unison.
(Everyone blacks out, as all the oxygen has been sucked from the room.)

1972
Emerson, Lake and Palmer
I went through an ELP phase (72-74), which didn’t sit well with my brother’s Allman Brothers phase (72-present).  Those Brits again.

1973
Kinks: Everybody’s In Showbiz
I could see the look of disappointment in his eyes.  (It wasn’t hard.  He was calling me an idiot at the time.)  After all, there were so many Hot Tuna records to get, and so little money.  My first Kinks album, and one of the weaker ones, as it turns out.  Brits, too, but big drinkers, and so, honorary Irish.

1974
Advice to younger siblings sharing a room with older siblings:  Don’t play side two of pre “Born to Run” no-name Bruce Springsteen’s “The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle”, while getting ready for work/school.  Your older sibling was out late last night, and is still trying to sleep.

1975:
Pre-E-Street-Band-no-name Nils Lofgren’s self titled solo album, and to-this-day-still-no-name Elliot Murphy’s “Aquashow”.  For some reason, these two records really got on his nerves.  Maybe Nils was a little too bouncy/hooky for what was his more boogie/jammy taste.  Elliot’s voice was a little nasally, but his attack is right out of “Blonde on Blonde”.  I’m still a bit mystified.

1976
Warren Zevon’s (or to my brother, Warren Zero) first record.  I admit that I got it because it was produced by Jackson Browne, who my brother thought I had a crush on.  Warren’s voice is a bit husky and awkward, but the songs are great.  His version of “Poor Poor Pitiful Me” demolishes Linda Rondstadt’s.
Crazy Horse’s first album, with soon-to-be-topic-of-Neil Young’s “Tonight’s the Night”, Danny Whitten, and repeat offender Nils Lofgren.  One song in particular annoyed the hell out of him, with a vocal by who knows who (it sounds half Danny/half Nils, but with a head cold), run through a phaser of some kind.  He thought they were saying “Finkelstein” (I does kind of sound like that) but the actual title is “Beggar’s Day”.

1977 and So On:

I think by now he’d given up on me.  Besides, we were both working and could buy whatever records we wanted.  I guess, in retrospect, his focus on the tried and true allowed me to go off the deep end.  I’d spend hours in the cutoff bin bringing home stuff like Earth Opera (because Peter Rowan was on it), and Nektar (because I liked album-long suites), while he filled in the West Coast catalogue.  In all, it was a good balance.

But I can’t leave well enough alone.  As adults, we’d exchange Christmas presents, and I couldn’t resist getting him CDs – Eno and Roxy Music being the most egregious examples.  (Jesus, more Brits.)  Then I went the burned CD route.  Best of Crazy Horse, anyone? 


And So Forth:

But since the whole point of this blog is to turn you on to something you haven’t heard yet, I will be going back to retrace some of my steps.  I expect to find a few times where I went wrong, but hope to find a number of instances where I went right, because there are a lot of great records out there that I think you’d like to know about. 

What was that song, anyway?