Musical Philistine Cubed

I thought it was bad when I had a roomate in college who didn't know who Keith Richards was.

On Saturday, I was proved wrong. It is bad when you don't know this song! I weep for the future of America:

One Step Beyond....

... one might prefer howling.

Not that one really has any choice in the matter.

A Quick One

....for Zelmo. While he's away, of course.

Light Music For Dying People

25 Songs That Made Me Rotten, Part 2

no one's making any noise now, sshhh,
we've been waiting for so long,
they took away our films and tapes and notebooks
but it's ok 'cos we've self-censored this song.
but these lines are all individuals
and there's no such thing as a song
and even the silent are now guilty in the empire of the senseless...
what's your line of questioning, sir?
empire of the senseless
i can't interrupt a one word sentence,
invent a war in secrecy
sliding scenery like a vintage toy,
isn't plastic surgery wonderful?
satillite secret national security,
empire of the senseless
turning journalists into heroes takes some doing,
empire of the senseless
boring ollie north down in the subway dealing drugs and guns,
empire of the senseless
turning little liars into heroes, it's what they've always done,
empire of the senseless
this song promotes homosexuality
it's in a pretended family relationship with the others on this record
and on the charts and on the jukebox
and in the radio
and in the radio

---

More

- [ ] 6 Memphis, Egypt - the Mekons

destroy your safe and happy lives before it is too late,
the battles we fought were long and hard,
just not to be consumed by rock n' roll...
capitalismos, favorite boy child, we must apologise,
up in the rafters a rope is danglin',
spots before the eyes of rock n' roll...
we know the devil and we have shaken him by the hand,
embraced him and thought his foul (stinking) breath was fine perfume
just like rock n' roll..

The Mekons have an unlikely provenance. Formed in the DIY flush of punk by art-school students who couldn't play their instruments, they were signed to Virgin before anybody knew what was happening, then summarily booted off the label when they refused to be photographed for the album. After reinventing themselves over the next few years using old country and folk and reggae albums, they singlehandedly created alt-country while Jeff Tweedy's voice was still changing.

Late in the eighties, they were assimilated by another major label, and released Rock 'N' Roll, a blistering diatribe on the hypocrisies and failures of the music industry, and a precursor to alternative rock. The label was not very amused, and rejected the tapes of their followup album, the sublime Curse Of The Mekons. In what became a typical failure of ability to communicate with industry weasels, the band though they were delivering what the label wanted, the label thought it was unmarketable, and initially interpreted it as a punk attempt at a joke.

Based on this review in Rolling Stone, I saw the band when they passed through Shank Hall -- and was totally destroyed. Jon Langford once said of the Mekons that on some nights they were nothing but drunken louts, but on some nights they could be focused like a laser beam. This was a laser beam night, and I searched for the import version of this album the next day. Four stars from RS notwithstanding, it wasn't easy to find.

With the scorching lyrics above, Memphis, Egypt blasts out the opening riff, and lurches into an alt-punk roar; again, they established the blueprint 2 years before Nevermind was released. With a major label release, they take the opportunity to spit in the face of the business they have chosen. Still punk after all these years, they were beginning a struggle to find a comfortable position within an industry they despised, making music they loved. This album is the sound of disillusioned idealists still struggling for integrity in a business that has none.

The album distills punk snarl into a focused attack, drawing from dozens of musical styles. one song, I swear Sally Timms was channeling Debbie Harry. In spirit, attitude, and diversity it sounds like nothing so much as London Calling. (Side note: I named EotS after a song on this album. Listen; the song sounds like a pre-emptive blast of disgust toward the America of the new century).

Unfortunately, the next time we went to see the Mekes, they were on one of those off nights, and we left before they finished. Total disappointment. But by the time they came around again, they were back on target, and ever since they have never failed. Now, they are pretty much the only punk band who have been recording for thirty years, and Langford says that the only way to leave the band is in a casket.

I can never turn this song up loud enough.

- [ ] 7 Rock Lobster, B-52s, SNL

Another of these Saturday Night Live performances. It was a golden time.

I have to admit that of all the various influences during that part of my life, these few SNL shows did the most to introduce me to punk and new wave music. By the time I went to college, I was thoroughly enamored of new sounds, and the turgid Classic Rot I was used to just seemed lifeless in comparison.

This performance was like a circus. The strange clothes, beehive hairdos, the oddball lyrics. Total party. In a sudden surge of two chord whimsy, I discovered music could be fun, and for no other reason than because it felt good. I don't know if the band even did a good job, because the sound was so new that I had no way of evaluating it. But it was the full five piece, original lineup; they played with the energy of kids in New York for the first time; anything beyond that was gravy.

Along with Elvis and Devo, this completed the trinity of SNL shows that opened my ears to a whole new sound. In the next year I graduated and went to college; new friends wider experiences and a college radio station cemented a love for these new sounds that I never could have explored in my hometown.

- [ ] 8 Highway to Hell, AC/DC

When I was a kid, One of the Madison radio stations, before they were all assimilated into Clear Channel and a few even still did their own programming, would play a new release late every Sunday night. All the way through, no interruptions or commercials or talkover, just a bit longer gap when they flipped the big black CD. I could set a tape, hit record when they started it, go to sleep and have an entire new album when I woke up.

So one monday, I rewound the tape and headed to school. As I pulled out of the driveway, that five chord beginning crunched out of the speakers, and Bon Scott started that unforgettable howling, and I heard a new type of metal that didn't yield any attitude or snottiness to punks. It was never hard to believe that this band had played thousands of shows at tough bars. It sounded like they would have been happy to stop the song just to fight, or drink.

Bon Scott soon died of it, though.

Even during the years when punk ruled my turntable, occasionally an AC/DC song would sneak into the play.... although I wouldn't admit it.

- [ ] 9 abacab, Genesis

Did someone expect there wouldn't be a Genesis song on here? What, you haven't been paying attention?

I first started paying attention to Genesis when Duke was released. I suppose this was when they started to really achieve commercial success, but that is still a fine album.

abacab, however, was where they first started to really come together as a three part writing team, and their songwriting process finished transforming from a bits 'n' pieces approach to actively writing together in real time. The result was a refreshing modern approach to prog music, and at its most compelling, it relied on the space between the instruments.

So a friend and I road tripped to Madison to see them on December 11, 1981. We had relatively crappy seats even, off on the side. The band opened with Behind The Lines/Duchess; after a brief pause, they blew us away with Dodo/Lurker and abacab. Classic beginning.

I had never seen such powerful music so perfectly melded with stage presentation. Although Genesis had abandoned the goony theatricality of the Gabriel days, they had never lost the desire to present a spectacle, and had transitioned to coliseum size seemingly effortlessly. Of course, at the time I had no idea of their history. For me, this WAS Genesis, Phil Collins, Daryl Stuermer and all.

I had never seen Vari-Lites before. The ability to change colors, move, pinpoint, all in an instant was jaw-dropping. Mixed in with generous amounts of fog and lasers, the show was so all-consuming.... Two hours? Two and a half? I can't remember.... but the drive back was a blur and not because of substances. It's hard to explain the impact this show had on me and I'm doing a crappy job of it.

For days afterward, abacab was on the turntable. It still is, in a way.

- [ ] 10 Nothing Happened Today, the Boomtown Rats

Back in the days before Intertoobz, there were perilously few ways to discover new bands. Corporate radio rarely played new bands. But occasionally, one of the magazines would have something interesting. My brother had some rag with had an article about a raucous Irish band that performed legendary live shows in their hometown; I was intrigued enough to pick up one of their efforts, A Tonic For The Troops.

Their next album was supposed to break them in the States, and featured the atypical near-hit "I Don't Like Mondays". Unfortunately, Bob Geldof criticized Bruce Springsteen in a press conference, and the Rock Critics didn't forgive him until he created Live Aid. Regrettably, their lack of success in America led to disinterest from the labels and eventulally they disbanded.

But for a brief while, The Fine Art of Surfacing poised to provide them success in the States. The single was OK, but for me the album, and the band, has always been much better represented by this song, which follows Mondays on the second side of the album.

The segue works well, a simple strum following the piano of the previous song, but a steam whistle kicks off a drum roll that jacks the song into a different attitude altogether. Geldof recites lyrics of alienation and boredom of a modern office droneworker. Years later, watching the opening montage of Simon Pegg's character in Shawn Of The Dead, stumbling through his numbing routine, I instantly heard this song.

The band never deserved the punk label that was slapped on them after their first single, Lookin After Number One. They were pretty skilled musicians, and on this song they played several changes throughout the song that keeps it moving along. But Bob Geldof always delivered his lyrics with attitude:

It was the morning Then afternoon And then the night came And then the night came Oh...and someone told me, Nothing happened today.

There it is: nihilism, alienation, boredom. All layered over irrepressible music that tries to bite back at the society that makes people live there.

Later years, it was easy to find more anti-authoritarian punk songs, but for me this one always hits the spot. It's not punk, but it's close enough for America, and the feelings it inspires are still relevant.

If Left Alone

She finds things for Kathleen




And Chuckles:

Immortality

Is there a more apt picture of this doofus?
"Everything Looks A-OK from where I sit!"

We are so screwed. Publish this picture on the front page of USA Today and the Post Office would shut down from all the passports being issued....

I think we can still sneak into Canuckistan though... 'SANCTUARY!! SANCTUARY!!'

WTF in Stereo!

RoD has been down most of the day. Apparently it came up for a bit tonight while I was out and then went back down the firehouse pole. Ugh. Seriously. Res, this is your hag speaking: fix the FUCKING blog!



It's is 2:31 AM and I just got home. AG has a few thoughts about her evening out:

The ghettos of North Philadelphia are scary, but not as bad as Harlem. Hence, AG's friends all being, "Damn. You drove here by yourself and stood outside without one single complaint." Um, yay. AG is a single, successful girl who knows no fear! After being stalked by two men (We all know, ass wipe!) this year, schlepping it uptown during my days at CUMC, being mugged at gunpoint 10 years ago, AG papa's office being in Newark during the late 70s, having being told what I was told by an M.D. recently -- there is little room for fear or loathing anymore.

Salsa dancing is more fun than you know. Especially after a few sangrias and your friends getting the live band to call you to the dance floor with, "AG Loren?! I have a finger but I need your ass on the dance floor to make it happen." Then the band boys let me play the trumpet too. Largely because AG was the cute white girl with the cute outfit who could blow like it was nobody's business. The chicas were so jealous and AG got numbers. Sadly, AG is a Jewish girl who doesn't leave tribe. Wah. Wah.

Good times! Tomorrow is tubing, a blues festival, movies and dinner.

Did I mention I miss the cute boy in California? I miss him sooo much. We drank dialed him around 11:30 but he didn't answer. My guess is that he was busy writing another chapter for the book and didn't hear the phone ring. I cannot wait to see him soon.

The Song Remains The Same

whether we're talking about AG and the buffboys, or my whining, or just the fact that I never post anything.....

Anyways, DZ showed up while I was drinking a cuba libre, so let's share a little:

What the FACK, KWB?!!

Fecking RoD is down again. I swear. That thing is down more than Midniter on his twinkie boy toy!

So, now I have to come here and whore for details on Dr. Simon Barak Caine. Seriously. AG is wanting to be spanked by this hottie.

Z-Unit has been replaced!

[EDIT FROM ROTTEN MCDONALD]

Sorry AG, but I much prefer Jill Sobule:

So much more genuine and cheerful, and most importantly  less heteronormative....

---  We now return to the Emergency Dating Services in progress -- 

The Beauty Of Falling Down

McCain, pwned by Paris Hilton.

EPIC FAIL

Certain Songs

I guess you're old enough to know.
Kids out on the east coast.
Roughly twenty years old.
Got coaxed out by a certain perfect ratio.
Of warm beer to the summer smoke.
And the meat loaf to the billy joel.
Certain songs they get so scratched into our souls.

She goes low on the seats when she gets high in her car.
She looks shallow but shes neck deep in the steamy dreams of the guys along the harbor bars.
She's pulling out her shirttails and jacking up her socks.
Stern and stoned and confident, coming up towards the jukebox.
Born into the only songs that everybody finally sings along.
B-1 is for the good girls.
It's only the good die young.
C-9 is for the making eyes.
It's paradise by the dashboard light.
D4 is for the lovers.
B12 is for the speeders.
And the hard drugs are for the bartenders and the kitchen workers and the bartender's friends.
And they're playing it again.
Ellen Foley gives us hope.
Certain songs they get scratched into our souls.

A while back, Our Newly-spawned Digital Friend Brando wrote a very nice post about his favorite songs, or the most meaningful ones, and at the time I thought maybe I should do one like that.  Cuz originality is way overrated.

Then, the erudite and diligent Blue Girl did 50-100-50, and now the lovely and scholarly  Mendacious D has followed suit, in his post-scheduled style.

So I finally decided to kind of mash up the ideas, and use em as blogfodder:  herewith I begin a multi part post, 25 Songs That Made Me Rotten, 5 at a Time.  Or So.

---

These aren't going to be my favorite songs, because those change from day to day, hour to hour.  How can you not?  But these are the songs that altered my perception.  Songs that got scratched into my soul.  

And they aren't going to be in any particular order, I abandoned that idea pretty quickly.  Also, in a couple of cases they had to be albums, not just the songs, because the entire disc became the focus.  Sometimes a single song isn't enough.

- [ ] 1 Keep Yourself Alive, Queen.  

I'm not even sure I remember when I started listening to Queen.  It was definitely in my cassette phase, because I had to buy them again on vinyl, not to mention having to get them in digital all over again.

But somewhere along the line, I picked up their first album  On cassette, as I said.  And driving home, I plugged it into the tape deck and the stuttering, propulsive guitar riff came chattering out of the speakers.  I listened in awe. 

I rewound it, and played it again.   Definitely a windows down song.

The recording quality is sketchy, and the lyrics are kind of  rough (hey, Queen has never been about the lyrics, am I right?)  but the song overflows with nervous, youthful energy and attitude, opening their first album with a hearty FUCK OFF to any bad luck or opposition or hard times.  It may not have the epic grandeur they desired but all these Years later, it still retains that defiant proto- punk attitude.  All these  intervening years, and still it never fails to lift my spirits.

Never.

- [ ] 2 In The City, The Jam

I debated listing this as the entire Snap! double album.  But in the end, it was this first song on the first disc that I always wanted to hear.

The song, just like the Queen song, was a bundle of defiant, youthful energy that oozed spit and anger, but wasn't simply nihilistic.  The Jam could, it seemed, effortlessly combine discontent with hope, drive it with three chords and if it wasn't finished in two and a half minutes, it was lame.  The Jam was labeled punk, but they were always just more of a garage band with an unacknowledged affection for Townshend.

The later songs, while being more focused, more accomplished, and edging out of the punky territory, never gave up that attitude.  Even as weller's voice matured  and production was refined were added, like when horns were added to "Beat Surrender", they never gave in to  compromise, although their original punk fans were brutal in the cries of 'sellout!'  In the end, they called it quits rather than dilute their work.  Although I never really warmed up to Weller's work with the Style Council, his more recent releases are a return to the form that I had loved.

When I bought Snap!, it was constantly, constantly on the turntable.  My roommates would beg me to play something else.  I would, and then I would put it back on.  

I can be hard to live with sometimes.

- [ ] 3 Satisfaction, DEVO - SNL.  

There was once a time when Saturday Night Live was not only funny, but within spitting distance of the cutting edge.  It's True!  And as an added bonus, they would feature obscure bands, often for the first tv appearance ever.  And as a young proto-geek, Saturday Night most often found me sitting around watching TV.  

The song is a nearly unrecognizable cover.  The band started by playing in yellow hazmat suits, then stripped out of them to complete the song.  They played in jerky, robotic, unmusical fashion, as far from the overproduced AOR rock that was the only thing on the radio.  It was as if they had never heard any Boston or Yes, and if they did, they didn't care.  Devolution had arrived, and the fact we were watching them on a national broadcast was proof of how far we had already fallen.  

Even the next day, I wasn't sure whether it was an actual band or just a parody.  But I still couldn't get it out of my head.  Damn them.  Somehow, those Foreigner tapes just didn't sound so good anymore.  I finally found a cutout tape of the first album, and listened to it on headphones; I still couldn't decide whether I even liked them or not. I played it for some friends, who though it was some weird Firesign Theater type parody album.

Now, as we have all become the Spudboys they predicted, they have scored Nickelodeon kid's cartoons and I have designed truckstops.  We've all become mainstream, just as we've all become the people we hated.  

Devolution, indeed.

- [ ] 4 1999, Prince

I was going to college in a small, hick Wisconsin town.  When I wanted new music, I either had to drive to Madison or Dubuque, Iowa (yes it was bad enough that I had to go to IOWA).  Oh, and Dick's, the town's big grocery mart, had a rack of albums.  You know, the big black CDs.

I had already developed a rep as a 'punk', or at least as close as you could get in this little town.  The college radio jocks usually gave me all the albums that they found too nasty to play  (The album 'Boy' was one of these). And somehow, this garish Purple album found it's way into that grocery store rack, and having heard some rumblings about this guy, decided it was a cheap double album and couldn't hurt.

Oh, but it did.  In all the best ways.    It was all over the place stylistically, but had a groove that all that white boy New Wave never managed.  It was full of everything, just as  enthusiastically overblown as any Queen song, in it's way; new wave keyboards, Hendrix-inspired guitar wizardry, Motown grooves and sex-drenched lyrics.  I didn't even know he was black, I just knew it was something New.  Something truly different;  it fit into a hole in my brain that I didn't know existed.

You know, there were TWO copies of 1999 in that grocery mart bin.  Sometimes I wonder who bought the other one.

- [ ] 5 Radio, Radio - Elvis Costello, SNL

Another of these Saturday Night Live performances; one that has become iconic.

I watched, still a kid as a guitarist barely older than I was started a song and stopped it, apologizing tersely to the crowd, and then leading his band into an angry, propulsive song.  I initially figured that they had screwed it up, and scoffed at the amateurs.  But the song.... it was obvious as Elvis spit every word into the mic and violently wrenched chords from his guitar that he meant every word, although I couldn't be bothered to pay attention to the lyrics.  After all, it was the 70's; lyrics were disposable, for the most part, an exercise in rhyming.

But you know; even as  a twerp I could see an artist that, although he was succeeding, still hated the price of success.  And someone who was unwilling to knuckle under to be safe, to be compliant.  He didn't respect the network that didn't respect him, and was perfectly willing to accept the consequences for his disobedience.  Later, I learned that Lorne Michaels was furious, telling Elvis that he would never play the network again and that his career was over.

Twelve years later, I tuned in to watch Elvis play SNL. Again.

And last weekend,  I watched as Elvis opened for the Police, and he used his hour-long slot to outperform them, blow them off the stage ( regardless of what the drones at the Urinal-Sentinel thought).  Thirty years later, Elvis is still recording vital music, doing what he wants without compromise; SNL has never reached those heights again, in fact is usually disregarded,  scorned and rarely manages to even be funny.  

And I'm still around too, although I seem to be poised between the two options.

Yo Cats

Interim Friday Catblogging. No cute captions.

I know!  Caption Contest!

Gad I need a life....