This clip from Under the Covers, the actually interesting rock documentary of ’70s So-Cal album cover artists Gary Burden and Henry Diltz, is believed to be the “smoking gun” of the moment when ’70s rock ‘n roll first took a hard turn for the worse.
The back cover shot documented at the end of this clip is one of rock’s true “If only…” images.
Sheryl Crow plans to collaborate with Fleetwood Mac, giving Stevie Nicks someone to accompany her to the bathroom when she’s out on tour with her ex-boyfriends again. Click on title of this post if you’re jonesin’ for details.
Beck consistently challenges my senses of cynicism and cool. Of art and homage. The dude is obviously talented. He can knock off any number of genres and maintain some odd sense of individuality and originality while, on paper at least, to be completely lacking both.
The above video is what I’m talkin’ about. Ridiculous and cynical as well as groovy, bitchin’ and postmodern cool. The seventies couple in the burnt orange sunset and Woodstock The Movie blocks is at once trite and maudlin and humorous as well as warm, nostalgic and romantic.
What got me started on this train was seeing a live performance on TV a few months back where he kicked some moves. Like his music and videos his stage moves were blueflame hot while at the same time being intentionally humiliating (white) mandancing? Was this super cool or super hilarious or what? This isn’t the best example but the best I could find. He busts most of his mojo at the end.
While driving to a client meeting this morning I heard “Interstellar Overdrive” on our local AAA station. As I considered just how much of a waste of time that recording is and began thinking about – as I often do, when faced with revisiting what was once a treasured find in my record collection – how much more I like the two solo Syd Barrett albums than Piper at the Gates of Dawn, I realized something else: I can’t listen to my Syd Barrett albums with anyone else. Years ago I’m sure I spun them with friends in my presence, but today, beside the fact that my closest friends and wife have never cared for those albums, I don’t want to spin them with anyone else around. They’re for me to listen to in private. I have my own feelings about them, and I don’t want anyone else distracting me from the relationship the albums and I have.
I’m not sure why I feel this way about these Barrett albums, in particular, and I’m wondering whether I feel this way about any other albums in my collection. Some albums I choose not to play for others because they may be grating or too intense – in no way do the Barrett albums satisfy the “it’s got a good beat and you can dance to it” objectives of much music we choose to play in social situations. Although the Barrett albums are loaded with backstory and a unique mood, they’re not the same as playing the third Velvet Underground album or some mystical folk-rock or ’60s jazz album that your beard-stroking friends might appreciate hearing played in the background. When I want to spin my Barrett albums, I do so alone. Maybe I don’t want to get caught sucking my thumb.
Do you have albums that shun company?
Okay, officially every single damn thing in the world is on YouTube. When I was in high school in Lubbock, Texas in the ’80s (specifically Monterey High School, the school in this video), The Nelsons were the kings of the local scene. They also won MTV’s Basement Tapes show one month with this song, and as you can tell from the chyron at the song’s beginning, they apparently also got some airplay on the short-lived but still legendary U68. This, crappy dub quality aside, was The Sound of Lubbock circa 1983-’86.
I’m betting that Townsman Berlyant will know what became of Special Delivery‘s bassist. That synth player showed promise. The Captain was obviously impressed.
As my oldest son slowly approaches adolescence and I begin to get a taste of the moodiness and angst that’s characteristic of teens, I’ve been having a recurring vision of coming home from work one day to hear the stereo in his bedroom cranked up, with one of two albums blasting through his closed door: Who’s Next or Dark Side of the Moon. If you’ve learned anything about me, you can probably guess which of the two albums I’d feel more comfortable hearing him blast to calm his worried, confused mind. You can probably guess why. But how ’bout you?
Put yourself in my hypothetical shoes: Would you feel more assured hearing one of these albums blasting from his bedroom over the other? Why?
Better yet…As a parent, have you ever walked into your house to hear your child blasting an album that either put at ease or troubled your parental instincts?
I look forward to your responses!
