Containing, among other things, my humble effort to bring my fellow sixty(ish) year olds up to date on some current, and frankly, not so current, pop music.
My family can never decide which BBQ place we like better - Dinosaur BBQ or Morgan’s. It always seems to be the one where we’re eating at the time.
So when I finally decided to take the plunge with the Baltimore duo Beach House - a band that’s been around since 2006 - I made up for lost time by taking two.
And now I keep jumping back and forth between the two, trying to decide which one is my favorite.
For a while, I couldn’t even tell which song was on which album. Then I developed a mental shorthand which told me if the production was lush, it was Bloom, and if it was weird and haunting it was Teen Dream.
And now after about twenty listens each I can I can finally tell which album a given song is from.
And after thirty listens each I think I can finally form an opinion.
After being disappointed by Speedy Ortiz, going through genre fatigue with jazz and classical, and getting worn down by the news, it was nice to hear something gentle and a little weird.
Part of the weirdness is the sparse but spacious production and Victoria Legrand’s almost-baritone vocals. The effect is of being greeted at the entrance of a castle by a very old woman. You wonder who you’re going to meet there. Boris Karloff or Peter Boyle?
We end up with both, who are getting on well and talking about old times. So everyone ends up having a lovely time.
The overall atmosphere goes a long way, and makes up for the tunes not quite holding up to the very end. (But I’m listening to it right now and the tunes seem just fine. And maybe it's Bloom that's a bit too slick…)
But most importantly, it was just what I needed at the time.
We went to a local “bistro” (you know the kind, interesting sounding food, small portions, no tablecloth, too expensive). In such a straight neighborhood, it was a relief to find something even slightly funky, though.
The service was friendly, and the atmosphere laid back. We were having a good time until we noticed how disappointing the music was. It wasn’t the awful Easy Listening a la Air Supply, etc., but it was a litany of the most overplayed hits of the seventies. Why, after all this time, are we still hearing this shit?
So I say that it’s time we made a list – the Don’t Play That Song list - and send it to every radio station on earth. Let’s start with Classic Rock, because it's been around so long now that the overplayed songs are especially grievous offenders. (Plus, I don’t know the names of the ones that aren’t Classic Rock.)
And lest you feel I’m picking on some otherwise worthy artists, allow me to explain that overplaying their hits is actually unfair to them. Every time you hear one of these songs you’re missing an equally good other song by that very same artist. Let’s not even get into other artists who deserved some of the limelight but never got it because the radio station was too busy playing... well, any of these songs for the 10,000th time.
Of course, there are some artists who sucked from the get-go and they're overplayed songs are the best they can manage. They’re like your talkative aunt or strange uncle. We’re stuck with them, but we don’t go out of our way to see them.
The songs below are so well known I won’t even name the bands. And I offer some alternatives by those same artists. I’m NOT saying the alternatives are better (although in some cases they are), nor am I saying that the songs are bad (although some are).
C'mon, if you give this even two minute's thought, you could come up with your own list. Here’s mine:
The Obvious:
“Stairway to Heaven”:
No surprise here, really. I’ve done such a good job of ignoring this song over the years, that it almost sounds okay again now. But not quite.
Instead, try this one: “That’s the Way”
“Margaritaville”
I like Jimmy Buffett almost as much as the next drunk, but this well-written song is every sixty-something's excuse to not seek out a thousand other equally good songs.
Almost anything else by Jimmy deserves your attention.
“Free Bird”
This one is just too freaking long, especially the live version, the ending of which is ridiculous. If you’ve just got to request a song at a concert, show some imagination. Make it “Whippin’ Post”.
But if it’s got to be Skynyrd, make it “Whiskey Rock n Roller” or “Tuesday’s Gone”.
Less Obvious, Just as Annoying:
“Listen to the Music”
Please don’t. It was 1972 and already a long way from the sixties. Ushering in an age of lowered expectations four years before Jimmy Carter. Not bad. Just a grim reminder of how uninteresting things can get. “Without You” rocks a lot more, even if they were still waiting for a good singer to show up.
“Summer Breeze”
This one is so overplayed it literally hurts when it comes on. I still like the bridge, but the verse, chorus and guitar-riff take up too much collective space in our brains. Anyone who voluntarily plays it should be flogged. “Ridin Thumb” is a weird little alternative.
By the way, these last two songs were played back to back at an otherwise wonderful seafood place in the Village recently. (Yes, all my traumatic musical episodes occur while eating out.) Yet more crap followed so I came to suspect they were being ironic. We visited their sister restaurant a few years ago, where they had a knockout playlist of 60s music. What the hell happened?!
“Heart of Gold”
Et tu, Neil? How about “New Mama” from Harvest’s polar opposite Tonight’s the Night.
“I Wanna Be Sedated”
Yeah, it’s great, but as their commercial break through it allowed normal people to feel cool by liking them. There are dozens of other equally brilliant Ramones songs, and I can guarantee you won’t hear them at a wedding, like “Cretin Hop”. But just about anything from the first four albums would do.
But this relatively anti-social "Beat on the Brat" will do. (Don't worry, I played it around the kids and they turned out fine. Sort of.)
“You Better You Bet”
Come on. This song kind of sucks. You know it. I know it. The only reason we even know this song exists is because the Who did it. It would never pass the If Someone Unknown Did It test.
Try just about anything before Tommy, Like “Relax”, from The Who Sell Out, which is, by the way, the greatest album of all time. (Yeah, I said it.)
“Against the Wind”
Also, “Like a Rock”, or anything involving nature. Bob's a city boy, so let's go with his best song ever. “Main Street”
“Refugee”
It sounded good the first time I heard it, okay the next second time. But that was it. The next 10,000 times occurred in the 80s, and it epitomizes all that’s wrong with Tom Petty. He thinks he’s better than he is. He invests a lot of feeling in a pretty unoriginal song.
Go with most of “Full Moon Fever” or my favorite, “Shadow of a Doubt (Complex Kid)”
“Tempted”
Not anymore.
Try “Up the Junction”, which will rip your heart out.
“Tainted Love”
I'm breaking my rule here. This song sucked from the get-go, and the idea that anyone could extract any joy from it is beyond my comprehension. This is what they mean when they say that white guys have no rhythm. And I oughtta know.
The original - sung by a female - has more balls.
Repeat Offenders:
Billy Joel:
BJ manages a Trifecta here:
“Piano Man” - I can still get through it with the help of the words, but JESUS.
“It’s Still Rock and Roll To Me” - Pure BS (again, I ought to know) from someone who didn’t get punk/new wave. He should stick to pop, which he’s actually good at.
“You May Be Right” – This one makes me sick. I hate self-described “crazy” people. If you think you are, you’re not. You're boring.
I could go on about “Just the Way You Are”, “Big Shot”, “Movin’ Out”. It just goes on and on.
Instead, try "Summer, Highland Falls", "And So It Goes", “James”, “I’ve Loved These Days” or this great one from Streetlife Serenade.
The Eagles:
Really, the entire Eagles oeuvre is pretty tired, except for some overlooked gems on the first three albums. But the dead horses are:
“Take It Easy” - Good at the time, but I just can’t take it anymore. I feel like I’m listening to the skeleton of a song.
“Lyin Eyes” - Basta!
“Life In the Fast Lane” - The only difference between Fast Laners and Low Lifes is money.
“Hotel California” I can admit now, after all these years, that this is not a bad song, but it isn’t nearly as good as it thinks it is.
I much prefer "Nightingale", "Tryin'" and "Bitter Creek".
Evil Jaybee says that any DJ who consciously puts on one of these songs really should be shot. The kinder, gentler Jaybee just wishes they’d find another line of work.
In looking at the above it’s amazing that there are no Beatles songs on it. I was about to say there are no Stones songs either, but I just thought of a few:
“Angie”
“Start Me Up”
“It’s Only Rock n Roll”
Which just goes to show it can happen to the almost best.
So my advice Mr. DJ - if you still exist (probably not, so okay Mr. Radio Programmer) is that every time you want to play one of the above songs, take the fucking hint, okay?
NOTE: This post is co-written by Good Jaybee and Evil Jaybee. Most of the work was done by Good Jaybee (because Evil Jaybee is, well, evil) but we’ll call it out when EJ has something to say.
Members were asked which artists they thought were the most overrated. I just came to listen since I couldn’t think of anyone.
Some of the comments were of the kids these days variety. I'd had enough of that when I was an actual kid, but didn’t rise to the bait this time.
And of course there were the conformist-as-hell-but-don’t-know-it nonconformists who trashed the Beatles. For the most part, though, ire was directed at well, Americana artists, as was apt.
But then a few commenters put some pop/dance/rap artists on their lists. Now I’m a dilettante at best regarding those genres. I hate some, I like some. So I wasn’t exactly defending them when I jumped into it.
My point was if you don’t like a genre, how can you say an artist of that genre is overrated? It’s like someone who hates hearing fat ladies sing saying that opera is overrated. Maybe his opinion just doesn’t matter. Doesn’t he know this? Why is he even talking? The fat lady fans just don’t care.
I got a good mix of responses - none of them threatening actual physical harm. And the dialog eventually got to the I like what I like and you like what you like phase, which leads me to wonder what the point of the exercise was.
I always wondered how someone could dismiss an entire musical genre, anyway. Don’t you have to be familiar with something to form an opinion about it? I’d try to picture the person dutifully listening to a whole stack of albums in order to develop an informed opinion just for this occasion. And at the end of all that effort (and money spent), they would pronounce the genre “Sucky”. Really? Isn’t life too short for all that? Unless you’re a critic and you’re paid to do that.
I’ve since learned that most people don’t go to such lengths. They hear what they hear and then they give their opinion about it. And I guess if you hear a few songs and don’t like any of them, chances are you’re not going to like the next one, either.
Isn’t that enough to just leave it all be? Do you really need to make pronouncements about it? As if those who are enjoying it are wrong? (Evil Jaybee here. I will make exceptions for artists like Journey or Rush, who, if you like them, you're definitely wrong.)
So I got to thinking about what overrated really means. When we use the term, we’re essentially saying that we like something less than other people. Not much of a statement.
The logic of it goes something like this:
You like ______ a lot.
I don’t like _______ as much as you.
Therefore, you have rated ______ too highly.
Thus, you are incorrect.
Stop liking _______.
When put into a more global context, it’s more like this:
The whole world really like ________.
I think _________ is okay,
So the whole world has overrated them.
Thus, the whole world is incorrect.
World, stop liking ______.
This all sounds ridiculous to me, but it’s a bit more entertaining than "To each his own".
It comes back to the question of inherent quality. I once heard Mortimer J. Adler talking to Bill Moyers and rating Shakespeare over the poetry of James Dickey. Bill Moyers preferred the latter. Adler said that Moyers saw a quality in Dickey, as Adler saw in Shakespeare, but added that there was an inherent quality in Shakespeare that made him greater than James Dickey.
Funny how the guy who prefers Shakespeare also finds a greater inherent quality in him. What a coincidence. File that under No Shit, Mortimer.
On the other side of the coin, there are very few people who, when asked to choose between the Beatles and Herman’s Hermits, would pick the latter. But are they wrong if they do? (EJ: Hell Yes!)
But once you get inside their heads you realize they're not. They like HH goddammit! And who am I to say that they’re f*cking stupid morons with no taste? (Oops, that was EJ again.)
A guy at work who once told me - with a straight face - that he preferred Wings to the Beatles. While I shook my head in disgust, another person there agreed with him. Now you expect to encounter such idiocy on the job but these were people I respected! They were older than me and thus preferred the more poppish/commercial Wings to the slightly rockier Beatles.
And the sales figures at the time may have backed them up on this. I’m actually afraid of finding out. (EJ: I'm not. I just checked a couple of sites and it looks like the Beatles are doing better.)
Thank God. But was it a matter of time? Were the quality/marathon Beatles inevitably going to beat out the hit-of-the-moment/sprinter Wings? I’d like to think so, but Cats has still grossed more than Gypsy on Broadway.
(EJ) Let’s stop right here. I will (and sometimes do) shout to the rooftops that the Wings people are WRONG about this. That there is an inherent quality (yeah, I said it) in Beatles music that is lacking in Wings. And those Wings fans make Hermans Hermits fans seem like Rhodes scholars.
Good Jaybee here. A seemingly obvious difference in quality - Beatles vs. Herman’s Hermits - may only be so because the Beatles are more famous than HH. In other words, perhaps it’s just the majority saying what they like and drowning out the HH fans.
I don’t have any Hermans Hermits albums. so for all I know they’re masterpieces. (EJ: Ah, but life’s too short to find out, right GJ?)
Uh, yeah. But for the hell of it, I checked the allmusic.com essay, and well, don’t you know that the author thinks their second album is just great?
Which brings me to Willie Nelson.
Or rather, that Americana site.
I somehow got pulled into an argument about Willie, or was it just an offshoot of the original Overrated Debate? Anyway, I was trying to play nice and pushed the to each his own line.
One guy was cool with that, since he was being attacked for liking some of Willie’s later albums. The other guy hated anything by Willie after 1985 or so.
We got to the you like what you like... phase (or, as the anti-Willie guy said, the you’re blind phase). (EJ: Didn’t he mean deaf?)
So to break the tension I decided to ask them both for their suggestions on good Willie Nelson albums. And guess who gave me suggestions? Not the Anti Late Willie guy, of course. You’d think that with all the effort he put into trashing stuff, he'd happily direct me to the "good". But no. He must have gotten bored.
So what’s the point of a negative opinion? I mean, it’s fine to have one. I have plenty.
Like this one. These guys are overrated:
Led Zeppelin
U2
The Police
Discuss!
And while you’re doing that, here’s one of the greatest songs of the sixties by the just-about-correctly-rated Hermans Hermits. (EJ: Just try to think of a song by Wings you’d say was one of the greatest of the seventies. Good luck with that!)
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.
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
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
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-
“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-
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
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...
Yeah, I know. Spring isn’t officially over yet, but on the Jaybee Calendar, Summer starts on the Memorial Day weekend.
Plus this Spring hasn’t been very, well, spring-y. So, like the Winter before it, so long, and don’t let the Summer door hit you on the ass on your way out.
Sweden:
And, again I find myself traveling, thanks to what amazon.com throws my way. This time, north to Sweden!
Fox News keeps telling me how it’s a Socialist nightmare. And since they’re so fact-based, out of concern, I decided to go beyond the meatballs and check out their music.
This is Mrs. Jaybee code for this sucks. And what sucks exactly, Mrs. Jaybee?
Maybe the sight of a 60-year-old enjoying girly-voiced dance pop.
I'll admit, it’s not my go-to genre by any means, but unlike so much other stuff in this category, it’s not vacuous, superficially sexual and all production. I hear some great melodies, sung with real passion and with words to back it up (usually). So, along with thoughts and emotions, there’s even some - god forbid - empathy here.
It may be that Robyn was 31 when she released this. So she’s been around for a while and while she can be impetuous like your average young person, she’s also capable of a little wisdom. Which appeals to my 60-year-old ears.
In other words, she's someone I wouldn’t mind talking to.
She's not perfect. After a great start, there are a couple of silly ones, but then she's back with her heart on her sleeve.
So there's about a fifty-fifty split between the standard but well-done dance tracks and the really melodic emotional - but not slow - ones. If it tilted to the latter a little more it would be great.
So Sweden seems to be doing okay. Whatever problems they have, they seem to deal with them by dancing. Recent developments have shown that this is not at all the worst course of action.
I love how this begins. You get to hear the band (guitars, bass, drums, etc. - a very rock n' roll sounding band) slowly kick in before Bob starts singing. And not too fast. Just a nice, rocking rhythm. They're not taking on the world just yet. Just doing what they do best. Kind of a relief from the hits, actually.
So I'm far more likely to do a deep dive with this than the to put on the no doubt excellent Legend.
And the deluxe version contains both the original Jamaican versions of the songs and the ones on the American release. Peter Tosh sings on a couple on the former while it’s all Bob on the latter. Which is just as well. Peter’s great but a little scary. When he sings “400 Hundred Years”, he sounds it.
What was it like to be in Brazil in 1967? Did rock and rock and psychedelia penetrate beyond America and Europe? The answer is an emphatic Yes!!!
Like thousands of others all over the world, this trio was inspired by everything going on up north. This is less their version of Sgt Pepper (which is more “concept” to me than psychedelic) than say Forever Changes. Okay, that's a stretch, but it's the sound of yet another group of young people with limited means trying to find the aural equivalent of bliss.
And not understanding what they're saying is almost a relief. If they were from California, you’d understand the words, but have no idea what they meant.
They have a kitchen sink approach to their music, adding background noise and sudden cuts to something completely different. The guitar playing is pretty standard for the time. The riffs are fast but not very original. The singing is more engaging and melodic, since there's both a male and female vocalist. She usually does the slow ones, which, after the abovementioned sink, come at the right time. So do the changes in tempo (nice drumming by the way!).
This one reminds me how pretty psychedelia could be.
The one single thing I like about this time of year is, if the music is good I can stay indoors, pretend the weather isn't there and JUST LISTEN!
My batting average hasn’t been great the last few years but things are different this time around. Perhaps it has something to do with my almost utter failure to stick to this decade, which was one of my New Year resolutions.
Plus, I did some mental traveling. I barely do the physical kind, so it’s a start.
And where did I (fake) go?
The Congo:
Not the place that comes to mind in January (then again…), but then there is Black Panther, so...
I wanted to get something by these guys for a while and when it came time to choose I ended up going with their 2004 debut. Doh!
I love the idea of this record. A bunch of guys make their own instruments and amps by pulling parts from junked cars and other crap, and then plug them in and play. A real garage band.
So you get a weird mix of the rhythms you’d expect, but with a raw distortion. And not like electric guitar distortion, unless it’s in your friend’s basement, and the amp’s been dropped a few times. Not slick at all, so you feel like you’re there.
It’s evocative, but over the course of an hour, a bit repetitive. Probably good for dance parties, though.
How could I go wrong with a “band” that brightened my 1997 with their first album - a mix of hip-hop and melody (And why hadn’t anyone thought of that by then?) - making both better?
Their love for the Beatles - only alluded to on their first record - just comes bursting out here with their cover of “Norwegian Wood”, which doesn’t top the original (how could it?) but is both faithful to it and all PMD anyway.
But it doesn’t quite measure up to the first record. When you do the same thing a second time round, it’s got to be much better to really knock you on your ass. If I heard this one first, no doubt I’d love it but I didn’t.
Just a guy strumming his acoustic, singing very simple, direct songs about the untimely death of his wife.
Although history proves otherwise, he believes death - or at least this particular one - is not something to make art about. And he tries to stick to this by making the songs so unadorned and matter of fact that you simply can’t escape the subject matter by focusing on the music.
And not melodramatic. Just troubling and uncomfortable - as he describes in one of the songs - when you’re having a dinner party and someone just starts talking about their spouse’s recent death. Because, like he says, death is real.
No grade, because I don’t know what to make of it yet.
Quiet, haunting, devastating.
And in its way, perfect for the cold grey days of February.
Ireland:
Mom interrupted all of this with the one year anniversary of her death.
At the time I made a playlist for her, and found myself listening to it several times during the week of the anniversary. It’s fucking long - 95 songs - but I got through it three or four times, and in an odd way, it provided a break from my explorations by focusing on the very familiar.
Ever fearful of pointless nostalgia, I typically avoid doing this. But this time it really helped.
Browsing amazon.com is the new record store trip for me. It's where I trip across stuff I've had my eye on for a while, but then because I see it now, it seems like the right time to try it.
So here’s this jazz guitar guy I’d always wanted to hear. But since, aside from Charlie Christian, I never warmed to jazz guitar since I’d only hear muted chords when I want ringing leads, I’d held off for quite a while.
And WM isn’t much different from what I expected/feared, but at least he had Miles Davis’s old rhythm section (circa Kind of Blue) backing him up, how bad could it be?
At first, it was a bit flat, but that rhythm section is so tight it keeps you listening. And eventually, you come to like his tone, his leads, and yes, his fast, smooth chord changes.
Good for mornings and nights. Play Charlie Christian during the day, though.
These guys came out of the early nineties amongst the grunge acts and never got quite the level of attention that Nirvana or Pearl Jame got.
I was so impressed with this on first listen! Right out of the gate, it’s fast, loud and tuneful. But each subsequent listen struggled to keep up. I think it's one of those records where your mood has to match it; otherwise, it’s just clatter. But when they do match, it’s the best record of the year so far.
And while all of this is happening while I do a deep dive into the Nick Cave oeuvre via this three-disc retrospective, none of which I’ve heard before. Ah but that's what winter is for! Unless it sucked, in which case, it could have gotten ugly.
The first disc is all arty poetics and gothic pseudo-Americana like only a pretentious Englishman can concoct. Not terrible, but it didn’t exactly encourage me to move on to discs two and three, which are an improvement.
Disc two leans toward ballads. Since mediocre poetry/gothic Americana can devolve into really awful and embarrassing soul-bearing. I was relieved to find that Nick actually has a bit of a heart. The melodies don’t hurt either.
In my year-end wrap-up I described disc three as Dylanesque, but I was mistaken. It’s really Springsteenian (ish? ist?). Again, a risky move, but Nick pulls it off with surprising grace.
I’m still finding my way through this extravagant (haven’t watched the DVD yet) box set (thanks, kids!), but for now, I don’t regret the plunge I've taken.
There was so much good music last year, and so much of it pop, instant gratification was the order of the year, and there were some artists I didn’t even get to mention.
Todd’s a pal of John Prine and Jimmy Buffet, but if you think you’re going to get good time happy music a la Buffet or even personal soul searching a la Prine, uh, no. Todd likes talking about people who have gotten the short end of the stick.
This is strong stuff, delivered with loud and sloppy rock and roll. Todd doesn’t f*ck around, and calls ‘em as he sees ‘em.
Todd’s taking no prisoners here. Before we’re even halfway through, he’s giving us the history of religion, the financial crisis, thrill kill kids, a big middle finger to Nashville and a pathetic love story. All through the lens of smalltown folk.
Like a good strong drink, it’s great, but not something you should have too often.
This is strong but not loud. “Muscular” is the word that comes to mind. This young woman plays with minimal accompaniment. She’s got a husky voice and plays a distortion-drenched electric guitar.
She’s about halfway between early PJ Harvey and TuneYards.
She can sing and play. She’s also unreasonable and impossible to please.
The tunes are wiry but insistent. Every time you hear them you hear a little more than before.
This is oh, so smooth. The smooth singing, the smooth background, the smooth sax. Christ, even the smooth guitar playing. It’s almost like being in an old nightclub. And since it maintains that same tone throughout, it can really get on your nerves if you were hoping for something more energetic or raw.
But when an emotion occasionally rises to the surface, it’s pretty moving.
It’s very easy to listen to, and so gets played a lot.
This is not bad at all, but Ms. Welch’s voice is a bit too mellow for my taste. It suits her well on the first and last cuts, which are slow and languorous.
But the guitar playing is just plain sloppy. Oh, you meant it that way you say?
“Everything is Free” is the best song here. It’s relatively short, and Gillian is pissed. It’s got a nice melody. I wish more of them were like it. However, I do really the last slow one, where she gets it all right.
He's a singer out of Texas from back in the seventies. He’s got a clear, strong tenor. Not too deep and not too wimpy. And - what a relief - he doesn’t wear a f*cking cowboy hat.
This is lean and occasionally mean. It’s spare and clean. It only rocks out when called for.
This five-disc set of Americana, blues and a lot more is like a cleaned up version of Anthology of Folk Music - a six disc monster, legendary in its time.
Nick’s been around for quite a while but I had nothing by him at all. So why not plunge into the abyss with this three-disc set?
Nick is one of those Brits who’s a little too committed to American folk and yet feels he has to add his own weirdness to it. Early Americana (see American Epic) is weird enough, thank you very much
But he goes for ballads on disc 2, and then Dylaneque rock on disc 3.
So this might not be the torture it first portended.
It’s taken me a while to admit it but I just don’t like Kim Gordon. She can’t sing and doesn’t bother to write anything resembling a melody. I much prefer the more cerebral side of SY. But for every one of the latter you get one of the former, So it doesn’t get a lot of play.
Courtney’s got the rare talent for coming up with simple melodies and effects that, together with her laidback vocal delivery add up to way more than the sum of the parts.
In its way, even better than Sit/Think. A little more laid back and melodic. you can certainly hear the seeds of the Sit/Think songs here.
