I’ve been waiting for somebody to rip and post the SCTV remake of “A Star Is Born” on Youtube — and a Crystal Gayle fan finally went and did it. While he or she showed extremely poor judgement by excising Kris Kristofferson’s TV performance from the skit, they did leave in the one scene that always — ALWAYS — makes me laugh out loud. Skip ahead to 4:00 in this clip to see the funniest rock and roll “bit” ever shown on TV.
HVB
Another sign of the impending aprockalypse:
Seriously, didn’t “cruisin'” used to mean something involving cars, chicks, and occasionally dudes in leather chaps?
Any thoughts on what the next rock-branded leisure product is likely to be?
I look forward to your responses.
HVB
So there I was, perched on the edge of the porcelain convenience, veins popping out of my forehead, heaving and straining to dislodge a particularly hideous agglomerate of Indian food, chile relleno, and soft-serv ice cream. I shifted back and forth nervously on the seat, pressed my elbows against my knees, and with one final, purple-faced cry towards the heavens, “ngggrrrgggghhhh…ALEX LIFESON!!!,” it was done.
As the sweat dripped off my brow, I turned to contemplate my peanut-studded masterwork, floating placidly in the water below. Then, like a bolt of lightning, two thoughts smashed together in my mind: one, Mod’s recent Last Man Standing challenge to find unlikely movie stars in rock videos; and two, my cry for help to Mr. Lifeson in my hour of need. My mind raced back to a video that, while not appropriate for Mr. Mod’s challenge, inspired me to post.
I ask this question of you: Can you think of a musical collaboration stranger than this one?
http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x1vy53Make sure you hang around until mile marker 0:59 to see what I’m talking about here.
I look forward to your responses.
HVB
Hello, fellow seekers of the unusual, the out-of-the-way, and the incredibly cheap!
I come to you today as a means of illustrating what can be achieved with just a bit of devotion to the Thrifty Music cause. Old-timers will know that the purpose of this series is to showcase music that I acquire at random through visits to my local thrift stores, flea markets, and yard sales. I don’t seek out specific artists or big paydays from finding obscure collectors’ items for pennies on the dollar (though that’s happened a few times). I mainly just pick up music that “looks good.” There are earlier Thrifty Music posts that explain the HVB Thrifty Music methodology — I encourage you to go back through the archives to learn more — and to hear some obscure music that’s floated across my transom over the last couple of years, for next to nothing.
Today, I thought I’d share the results of one foray, to one thrift store in suburban Maryland, in a neighborhood affectionately called “Korean Corner.” In exchange for a few dollars, I walked home with these choice sides, and relatively few clunkers:
“All American Girl”, Freddy Cannon
This one was real pleasant surprise — like music from a 1962 teen surf movie that actually kicked ass. Don’t you love it when Hollywood actually delivers the goods in those old, crappy, teenxploitation flicks? It happens so seldom, but when they get it right — and there’s some righteously rockin’ music to go with the high-quality, 16mm film and wide-screen color saturation, it’s an awesome thing. No vuh-deo here, obviously, but close your eyes and imagine it. Ahh, the sea… the sand… chicks in bikinis doing the frug… and Freddy Cannon rockin’ it up at the tiki bar.
“Reveille Rock”, Johnny and the Hurricanes
Readers of previous editions of Thrifty Music will know of my weakness for those silly tunes from the ’50s and ’60s that featured straight-ahead, fast-paced rockin’ instrumentals, made noteworthy only because every so often, the band stops for somebody (probably the bassist) to utter some incomprehensible, out-of-context catch phrase or slogan. Here’s one by Johnny & the Hurricanes entitled “Reveille Rock.” In addition to it featuring the required spoken word interludes… man, check out the insane tempo of this number! ‘Fess up, RTHers in bands: how many of you could maintain a pace like this for longer than 30 seconds, without falling to your knees, wheezing for mercy?
“The Monkey Time”, Major Lance
This was a nice find: Curtis Mayfield protege Major Lance, singing a Mayfield composition entitled “The Monkey Time”. If I hadn’t told you who wrote and produced it, I’m betting you could’ve guessed. Gotta love old Curtis!
“Party Down, Parts I & II (HVB Groovealicious Extended Dance Partython Remix)”, Little Beaver
Lastly, a purchase that really made my day. I don’t remember if I featured Little Beaver’s ode to the ’70s party scene, “Party Down,” in a previous edition of Thrifty Music. I do know that my old 45 of the tune — also acquired at a thrift store — was so beat up it’s practically unlistenable. Thanks to the Korean Corner thrift store, I don’t have that problem anymore… and neither will you! Man, I love this song. Righteous, soulful, and jazzy guitar playing, glasses tinkling in the background, a mellow attitude (in the best sense of the word) — makes me want to pour myself a Courvoisier, turn the lights down low, and just chill with a room full of friends. Thanks, Little Beaver — anybody who can write the soundtrack to the perfect party is okay by me. (Note also that I’ve edited both sides of the single together, so you can enjoy six full minutes of Beaver’s laid-back party vibe. Enjoy!)
That’s all I’ve got this week, folks. Tune in next time for some more choice musical tidbits from the milkcrates, junk bins and garbage bags of our great nation.
HVB
Here’s a running theme that veterans and probably even newcomers to the Halls of Rock will notice in the otherwise piercing and wise posts of Townsman Hrrundivbakshi: “Hippies weaken rock ‘n roll!” I cannot fully subscribe to HVB’s anti-hippie stance, although like others, I find it fascinating. Hippiedom seemed to me such a logical and necessary extension of where rock ‘n roll had been heading. Sure it ran its course after the musical equivalent of the eighth day without a shower, but I still treasure the injection of Flower Power and poor grooming that their long weekend in the hot, stinking sun brought to rock.
An interesting unfinished part of this story, which is only hinted at in the original comments this post generated: Mike Rabon of The Five Americans came across this essay through his feed, or whatever it’s called, and agreed to an interview. I quickly came up with what I thought would have been some cool questions, but after repeated requests for replies and numerous delays, I finally gave up on hearing back from Mike. Too bad, but I know how life can get busier than expected. Maybe I’ll try once more to get a true hero of the anti-hippie scene’s take on all this. Enjoy!
This post initially appeared 11/14/07.
Starting today, I offer a series of short posts that I hope will help illuminate how and why things went so very WRONG ’round about 1967.
Those of you who’ve been following RTH for while now have probably come to understand that I have a visceral dislike for much of what has come to be labeled “hippie” culture. And, if you’ve been following RTH, you probably know that Mr. Mod has never stopped busting my balls for not donning the white lab coat and providing a detailed taxonomy of all the toxins mixed into my beloved rock and roll music by that messy generational burp.
And so it is that I’ve decided to meet Mr. Mod halfway on the field of cultural battle. Starting today, I offer a series of short posts that I hope will help illuminate how and why things went so very WRONG ’round about 1967.
In today’s essay, I hope to let others do much of the talking, and to allow some of hippie music’s main offenders hang themselves on a rope they painstakingly twisted themselves. In the opposing corner, I present my surprise champions of the day, The Five Americans.
Continue reading »
It’s funny how we sometimes get introduced to Great things in very pedestrian ways. When I was about 14, somebody played me the first Blues Brothers album. That was the first time I ever heard any music written by Isaac Hayes — in this case, “Soul Man” — and, even in that watered-down form, it blew my mind. My best friend eventually discovered that the original was performed by Sam & Dave, and we went on a furious, pre-Internet scavenger hunt for something, anything, by that duo. (This was especially hard to do because, a.) we were 14 and didn’t know shit about anything; and b.) I was living in Central America at the time.) At last, a trip to the Panama Canal Zone post exchange yielded what I was looking for: a copy of Sam & Dave’s greatest hits, and I was smitten.
As I got older and nerdier about these things, I learned that — as talented as Sam & Dave and the Stax house band were — the real magic in those grooves was the result of an amazing compositional team: Isaac Hayes and David Porter. As I explored their work in the context of everything else that came out of the Stax factory, I realized that — as outrageous as this sounds — those guys didn’t write *one* bad song. Not one. It was all gold. Honest to God, those guys had a batting average better than anybody’s. Better than the Beatles, people!
So Isaac Hayes, at just 65 years of age, is now gone. In trying to write a fitting epitaph for a man I believe to be one of the greatest composers in the history of American popular music, I feel tempted to chronicle his rise from the mean streets of Memphis to global mega-stardom (because his story is a truly compelling one) — but really, that stuff doesn’t mean shit to me, now that he’s dead. What matters to me, obviously, is the man’s music. Like James Brown, or Stevie Wonder, or Duke Ellington, he was a driving force behind a deep transformation in Black popular music, introducing sophisticated, moving (but still funky) chords, riffs and arrangements into a form — in his case, southern Black music targeted at southern Black audiences — that had become paralyzed by the success of soul numbers featuring three chords and time-worn, threadbare melodies.
And speaking of being paralyzed: I have spent the last hour trying in vain to pick the right group of songs to showcase this man’s particular genius. Like so many other great pop composers, you’ve already heard some of his best work: “Soul Man,” “Hold On, I’m Coming,” “I Thank You,” “B-A-B-Y,” and literally dozens more that made it to the pop charts. But even the outstanding obscurities are too numerous to feature here. I mean, where do I start? The guy wrote more than 100 songs during his stint with David Porter at Stax, and they’re all good! And what should I encourage you to listen for? The arrangements and production touches? The sophisticated melodies and counter-melodies? The deep, righteous groove that permeates everything he wrote in the 60s? I’m truly at a loss here. A great loss. We all are. Isaac Hayes, I thank you. We all thank you. You were amazing.
HVB
Tell you what — let’s do this New Orleans-style. First, the sad, mournful farewell:
“If I Ever Needed Love”, Ruby Johnson
Then, the joyous affirmation that one of these days we’ll all be together in the great beyond:
I’ll start what I suspect will be a very long list:
Al Anderson
I look forward to your responses.
HVB
