Dec 032008
 


To this day, although I’ve come a long way in digging reggae music, I prefer hearing The Clash do their version of reggae than almost any real reggae artist. Give me “Police and Thieves” with those crunchy guitars and awkward bass over the Junior Murvin original version any day, even though the original version is pretty great. If you put a gun to my head I may even admit that I prefer the bastardized reggae of The Police and Joe Jackson to most of the real thing. Not cool, but true.

I feel the same way about most Brian Jones-era Stones covers of slightly earlier R&B/early rock songs, like The Stones’ version of “Around and Around” over Chuck Berry’s original or their cover of The Valentinos’ “It’s All Over Now.” Mad props to the source material, but I’ll take the Stones!

Give me Paul Simon and Talking Heads doing whatever they’ve done with South African and South American music over most of what I hear by the people who inspired them. Not cool at all, I know, but I’ve never found King Sunny Ade‘s music, for instance, half as interesting as the best of Simon and Byrne. For starters, it’s nice to know what’s being sung. How do I know King Sunny’s not singing his culture’s equivalent of “Working for the Weekend?” I do, however, prefer the real Brazilian stuff that Byrne’s label has released to Byrne’s solo works in that same vein.

A lot of my favorite “country” songs are Elvis Costello’s pastiches of real country songs, songs like “Motel Matches.” One of the best things about Costello’s “country” originals is that the rhythm section gets to do cool fills. Real country rhythm sections usually sound to me like they’ve got the freedom of a lamb.

I can’t say the same for newer takes on Da Blooz, not even Da Blooz of Jeff Healy and Stevie Ray Vaughn. This is proof that more than Rockism is at play, right?

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Jan 282008
 

You’ve heard the story about Eric Clapton leaving The Yardbirds over the final straw of the band recording the pop ditty “For Your Love”. How dare the band forsake Da Blooz!

Now, however, I ask you to consider the costs of blues credibility, particularly as it applies to this Humble take on the number.

Next, consider the flipside, in a variation on this well-known theme… Continue reading »

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Dec 272007
 


I wish I could find the hi-def broadcast version of this guest appearance by Amy Winehouse with The Rolling Stones at the 2007 Isle of Wight Festival. It’s really bad, and the camera crew on the hi-def broadcast picked up some very telling looks of varying emotions from the musicians:

  • An embarrassed glance between that keyboard guy, Chuck Leavell (?), and the Bill Wyman replacement bassist
  • Keef and Ron discussing real estate in the Bahamas while tossing off beginner blues licks that had nothing to do with the lame performance of the song
  • Amy-as-desparate-fangirl, clutching to her sole snack sack of tricks in full knowledge of how badly she was being exposed (no wonder she’s throwing down all those drugs)
  • Mick as Alpha Bitch, blind to how bad the whole scene is, wholly focused on putting on his show, not getting distracted by thoughts of the days when a real guest star could step onstage to match moves with him. Oh, Tina!

If anyone finds a clip of the hi-def broadcast version, please send it our way. Thanks!

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Mar 232007
 


Townspeople, judging by the poll results, it would seem you know your Moderator well, but I have some news that might shock you as much as it’s shocked me: I loved tonight’s North Mississippi Allstars show at Philadelphia’s World Cafe Live. The band – playing an acoustic set, no less – went from respectable to impressive to dazzling to moving over the course of their set. I was impressed by their musicianship, their comfort, and their humility.

These guys are Brian Jones’ wet dream. Three dedicated followers of the American music tradition with plenty of natural style but totally devoid of cliched “Southern” and “black” manipulations of self-conscious white folks. There was no alt-country/Americana moaning and mumbling. No swigs from the Southern Comfort bottle filled with apple juice. None of that nonsense. Even their Look was cliche free: the two Dickinson brothers were tiny, and lacking in muttonchops.
Continue reading »

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Mar 222007
 


Townspeople,

Tell me what you know about North Mississippi Allstars. Tell me more than the band contains the offspring of Jim Dickenson and some other 12-rate survivor of the Southern soul circuit. I’m going to see them with a friend in the neighborhood tomorrow night. My friend is a good guy, and he was looking for a music lover to join him. I’m terrified, Townspeople. Not of my friend’s company – hanging with him is a breeze – but because I’m terrified this band is going to push all my 21st Century Bluesphobe buttons. I’m terrified I’m going to get that look on my face. You know the one, the judgemental, 99 things are wrong with this picture look. It sucks getting into that mood around an innocent friend, a friend who may not be used to me and more gut-wrenching reactions to things I don’t like.

All that said, I had the same fears midway through Marie Antoinette with him and his wife. I figured I’d hear it from my wife when she saw me with that look after the movie, but our friends disliked it as much as we did and had been storing up as much bile. So who knows? Maybe this show will work out either way. In the meantime, please tell me all you know, short of AMG blurbage. Thanks.

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Feb 062007
 

Inspired by Tuesday’s poll, Townsman General Slocum submitted the following thoughts:

Yoko was the tongue in the sallow cheek of that “band.” I always get a kick out of Mitch Mitchell, and Clapton and Lennon could easily have let me down less than they did in this setting, but like every high-school let’s-play-the-blues-and-make-the-worst-guitarist-play-bass outfit I’ve ever heard, there’s not much humor in there. And if Yoko’s sack-dance and catterwauling don’t tickle you, then wait till she gets into sodomized kitty range, and then look at John: the neutral, unaffected eyes of true love, hearing not a thing wrong with the dulcet warblings of his sweetie. There’s a lot going on there that is more entertaining than hearing the White Men’s Blues Society hammer that five on the turnaround as though they’d finally actually heard a black cat moan!

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