Dec 282020
 

I don’t know about you, but Christmas is a good time for receiving (and giving, to the appropriate loved ones) music-related gifts. Santa got me the Chris Frantz book, Remain in Love. I’ve been blowing through it. Frantz writes like he drums: direct, concise, and not afraid to land a hard accent when the content calls for it. It’s not a masterpiece, but it’s good getting a totally unpretentious point of view on the typically pretentiously portrayed Talking Heads. To be fair, David Byrne was refreshingly down to earth when discussing the band in his excellent How Music Works book, which I read this summer.

Santa also got me Patti Smith‘s Year of the Monkey and what promises to be an incredibly pretentious book: Brian Eno: Visual Music. I haven’t gotten into it yet, but’s loaded with imagery that I assume is associated with Eno’s ambient music, and the text is in 3-point type. I’ll don’t often need my reading glasses, but I will in this case.

How about you? Any new music-related items in your household? Any music-themed gifts you gave your loved ones?

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Dec 242020
 

Flunk Punks “Guitar Tech” Paul Shields, with THE INFAMOUS YAMAHA DT 175 IN THE BACKGROUND!

Happy holidays, Rock Town Hall members and hangers-on!

As has become a bit of a tradition ’round these parts, on this festive day of the year, I present you with the annual telling of my greatest moment of rock embarrassment — namely, the story of The Day I Rode My Motorcycle On-stage at School Assembly and Proceeded to Suck Mightily. This year, however…there’s more!

First of all, there are pictures to share, culled from dusty old photo albums–including, as you’ll see above, a picture of the actual motorcycle! I wish I had pictures of all the members of the “band,” but there seem to be just a few in my possession. Perhaps more illuminating, I’ve managed to gather a few recollections of the event from other members of the Flunk Punks! This year, I managed to track down two: David “Bertie” Bertram and Peter Horn. Peter was characteristically taciturn about the whole affair, but Bertie remembered something I’d long since forgotten: the Flunk Punks “groupies!”

Anyway, the story proceeds below, followed by our star witnesses’ commentary. Enjoy, and–best wishes for the season, RTH!

HVB

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Dec 212020
 

Like some others here (? [“Indeed,” says Mr Moderator]), Get Happy!! is my favorite Elvis Costello album, and “Men Called Uncle” is my favorite track from that.

For the longest time I thought the opening line was

Now there’s lip prints all over your face
Well maybe that’s why I can read you like a book

I thought it was possibly “kiss prints” which would give a similar meaning but that’s not really a phrase you hear.

What a disappointment when I learned that it was actually “newsprint”. Could that actually be it?

Really, isn’t “lip prints” far better?

I’m looking for a little love in this but also looking for other misheard lyrics that you think are better than the actual.

But don’t turn this into an exercise in mondegreens. No “There’s a bathroom on the right” allowed.

I couldn’t find a good live video of EC on this song but was pleased to find a Robbie Fulks cover (from a show where he apparently covered the whole album).

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Dec 102020
 

I can only think of one example, but I trust you will keep this from being the shortest Last Man Standing ever! As there may be only one example of this phenomenon – a hit instrumental by an artist known for vocal-driven hits – I won’t prime the pump with an initial entry. I will say, however, that songs like The Beatles’ “Flying” DO NOT COUNT. Unless you can show me evidence of that instrumental charting in Nambia or wherever.

As always, don’t Bogart this thread. Please limit yourself to ONE ENTRY PER POST.

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Dec 022020
 

Go ahead, call this Dad Rock. I dare you.

Let’s jam on it. What random topics are floating your boat in the homestretch of 2020?

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Dec 012020
 
“Glory of love…”

I believe no song in Lou Reed‘s catalog better represents the hardships he overcame as a musician than “Coney Island Baby.” I wish there was video of the live version from Take No Prisoners, with the sincerely beautiful, painful, uncomfortable intro about wanting to play football for the coach, but this will have to do. It helps to have video evidence of the struggle simply playing rhythm guitar and singing was for Lou.

I’ve spent a lot of time through the years having a laugh over Lou Reed, but I love the man’s music and the awkward pathos he brought to rock ‘n roll. I think about the expenses that went into paying studio cats and the highly accomplished road warriors who made up his touring bands to put flourishes on the 4 chords Reed can barely muster playing on songs like “Coney Island Baby.” I think about the background singers who had to get paid to accompany his hectoring on the choruses. I think about how much effort went into this attempt at reaching out to The People, the way Bruce, The Boss, has been able to do since he ambled out of his mother’s womb. Does “Coney Island Baby” land as intended for all but a handful of even Lou’s most passionate fans? Probably not.

“Coney Island Baby” always hits the spot for me. We typically measure our heroes up by their greatest accomplishments, their “Sweet Jane,” their “Like a Rolling Stone.” Greatness can also be measured by an artist’s “missed landings.” I want to play football for the coach.

Is there a missed landing, an against all odds numbers by one of your favorite artists that does as much to demonstrate that artist’s greatness as their acknowledged classics?

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