I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for the Beach Boy’s “When I grow up to be a man.” It’s sentimental and good-vibey at the same time. And I dig the drums on this. But my favorite part is how they include the counting up of the ages throughout … especially at the end. ” 22 .. 23 … 24 …
So as a Last Man Standing Challenge … what other great songs use this counting technique?
I’ll take this song and Bowie’s Space Oddity off the board to start.
I guess as any big Elvis Costello fan might tell you, it’s easy to go back and forth on his great pre-Punch the Clock albums and get fixated on one and then another. I had that moment as a youngin’ with Trust, which for a long time took my number one spot as the BEST Costello disc.
I couldn’t have know how much that album hinted at Imperial Bedroom at the time…but there are a bunch of songs on that which could have been on Imperial and vice versa. But at the time I thought the absolute standout song was “From a Whisper to a Scream”—with Glenn Tilbrook taking up the alternating vocals. [Mod. – Not to mention Friend of the Hall Martin Belmont on lead guitar.]
Wow, how fun I thought—a new wave super duo of sorts! At the time.
Now I listen to that song and kinda cringe. What was Elvis thinking? Why share the spotlight with another dude?? Was this trying for some sort of crossover appeal? Was Squeeze big at the time? Every time I hear it now I wish Elvis woulda sung the whole thing…but it also feels like he was trying to capture some earlier glory (of his faster, angrier days) and it just falls flat to me now.
So 1) … can a I get an Amen? But 2)—the real reason for the post: name me another great new wave singer duo who successfully (or unsuccessfully) pulled of this feat.
Bowie and Freddy Mercury don’t count. Or Jagger with _________.
I was never a huge Matthew Sweet fan. Not to say I didn’t dig him, I just never bought any of his music, including his great Girlfriend CD. So when me and the missus were invited to join fellow Townsman AndyR and his missus for dinner and the show at Philadelphia’s World Cafe Live, we had a slight regret (just for the show, of course).
A bit of history here: Our great college friend and housemate Eric Peterson (RIP) was best friends growing up with Sweet (from Lincoln, NE). He was always talking him up and playing us demos to which we were optimistic about but hey, who do we really know that’s actually gonna “make it” in the music biz. So when he broke as huge as he did—and deservedly so—I think we were all a bit taken back. And the fact that he had the balls to play with two of my all-time favorite guitarists really impressed me outta my mind. I need to read about how they hooked up. That would be a book in itself.
Now there were a few things that we were worried about. How would Sweet’s jangly/sorta effeminate pop play live? How could anyone replace Robert Quine and Richard Lloyd? And what about those man-boobs Sweet had acquired from years of having the munchies through his pot-soaked years. And backed by bassist and drummer of Velvet Crush (now, I do have two of their CDs) would they even be MORE jangly than I feared?
Well, I am happy to report that 1) dinner with AndyR and the wives was awesome and 2) more of a surprise—Matthew Sweet was awesome.
He was heavy. And I mean really heavy thanks to a lead guitarist that played every solo loud and, while not note-for-note, totally captured the spirit and wizardry of the originals. Even Sweet said he had big shoes to fill…and fill him he did. Even the Velvet Crush guys were more than serviceable. Sweet’s voice was in great form and he was turned up as well—so it was a great heavy affair.
They played the whole Girlfriend album in order—including the three bonus tracks included in the reissue. Then ended with his other hit from the other album because he didn’t want the show to end on a downer. He came out for an encore, which we missed. (Fan, not huge fan.) The first 6 songs were all radio-station staples—and, like I said, they really, really rocked.
All in all, a fun night of Rock, with some other RTHers in the audience for good measure. I might buy that CD after all.
After hearing my good buddy AndyR front the Narband this weekend, making his way through two sets of really fun covers from the ’80s (and a few of the ’90s) I started thinking about the musician who, if I had to set down a musical marker, would be the one who defined my formative musical years. To me, that time was from late high school into early college. And I’m wondering who you guys would name.
Now as a bit of ground rules — I’m talking about an artist that came up (or down) in your time. So, while many might go to the Beatles, Stones, Beach Boys, etc as their musicians of enlightenment… I would guess these pre-date most of us. (I’m guessing at our typical demographic’s ages, of course.)
For me, that marker would have to Elvis Costello.
Of course I did listen to music before and after Elvis. But (as I was driving home in nice glow) Costello helped me become “alternative” in my high school without having to be really punk, was the first guy my high school friends really agreed on, and bonded me in college to my closest friends to this day. He had such a great string of albums that I could enjoy his output for a good long run. I remember walking around school with My Aim Is True as sort of a badge of honor.
I don’t listen to Costello as much as I should today. But he always brings me back in a way other artists of my Formative Years don’t quite match.
So, as a way to get to know you guys better, who would you point to as the artist that best sums up your time? It might be an artist that you don’t think is particularly good now.
Maybe it’s the weather that’s put me in a reminiscing mood…
My daughter thought the Hall would get a kick out of this … and we old guys (and gals) would probably get a bit schooled in the process.
Really interesting take on how sharing music knowledge in the internet age is the new coolness.
Populism is the new model of cool; elitists, rather than teeny-boppers or bandwagon-jumpers, are the new squares.
Sandwich Effect
Listening to The Jam‘s great Setting Sons, which may be my fave by them. But it never really got the spotlight it deserved, did it — due to being sandwiched between their two legendary LPs, Sound Affects and All Mod Cons.
Sure, there were some hits on this, like “Eton Rifles,” and I could do without their version of “Heat Wave,” but whenever The Jam comes up no one ever seems to talk about this album. Why oh why?
Are there any other bands who have a “lost” album — one that seems softer and more vanilla in between the crunchier bookends? Maybe I should listen to Give ’em Enough Rope again???
Listening to some X today and got to thinking how much I love Under the Big Black Sun, but yet how sad it is. Songs like “Come Back to Me,” “Dancing With Tears in My Eyes,” and “Riding With Mary” all speak the pain of Exene’s tragic loss. I get a similar feeling with Neil Young‘s Tonight’s the Night album for a similar reason—death hangs all over that album.
Now I’d have to say the saddest album (IMO) is Big Star‘s Sister Lovers. Maybe it’s the “death of a band,” but the whole about-to-collapse-at-any-moment vibe of that album always seems to really bum me out, no matter how much I love it. And I think “Holocaust” maybe one of the saddest songs ever put on vinyl.
Not that I’m in a dark mood here—what with the amazing weather and all—but any contenders for Saddest Album in Rock? Break out those hankies.
