I wonder how many RTHers got the news of the death of John from Howard Cosell on Monday Night Football like I did? Probably not all that many as I know I’m an old-timer here. Shocking to think that it was 33 years ago, the memory is so vivid.
Maybe more amazing than the fact that 33 years have passed since John’s murder is that last week marked 12 years since George died.
Anyway, I’m more prompted to write this by having heard a cover of “Merry Xmas (War Is Over)” the other day on the local radio station that plays all holiday music from Thanksgiving through New Years (there must be one of those stations in every city, right?). I’m not sure who the artist was. A search on amazon shows 15+ covers and I’d guess the one I heard was by Sara McLachlan.
I’ve admitted to being an old-timer but now I’ll admit to being an old fart. I’m sorry, I’ll allow as how this song maybe, maybe, maybe could be covered but there’s no reason for a radio station to play anything other than John & Yoko’s original. It’s sacrilegious.
Agree? Disagree? Any other songs that should only be performed by the original artist?
I’m sure you’ve heard by now, but Junior Murvin has died. The reggae artist I bet 98% of us first learned about through The Clash’s cover of “Police and Thieves” was 67 (or maybe 64).
I like Murvin’s original recording of his song a lot, as well as some other tracks I own by him (especially “Cool Out Son”), but man, The Clash version made the song for young me. I think the first time I heard the original was during a scene in Rude Boy—or was it one of those other landmark punk rock movies my friends and I used to gobble down at midnight showings? Ray Gange or some other punk was strolling down the city streets while Murvin’s version filled the theater and I felt cool for finally getting to hear it.
The older I get the more I appreciate the incongruity of hearing Murvin sing such heavy lyrics so sweetly. Did he or Joe Strummer ever talk about the differences in their approaches to that song? All these years I’ve known nothing about the guy, really. This article I just found is definitely worth reading, if you want to start learning anything about the man.
Despite oh-so-reverential commentary by eternal rock dude-scholar David Fricke to the contrary the recent PBS American Masters documentary on Jimi Hendrix confirmed that the guitarist’s post-Experience career was pretty much a waste. Did you watch it? The trailer, above, is pretty cool in its own right, and even if you don’t care for Hendrix you will get a quick look at modern-day Steve Winwood‘s brilliant and unexpected muttonchops!
Lou Reed…as E. Pluribus Gergely likes to remember him!
It’s the beginning of a Lou Age. Some questions remain in the balance following the death of Lou Reed that, following a respectful period of mourning, perhaps Rock Town Hall is best qualified to answer.
If his album with Metallica is the last batch of new recordings to have been released does that mean that that album was, definitively, the final word on how Lou Reed was meant to sound, or will the ghost of Lou emerge to proclaim that each new set of posthumous recordings that emerge is actually how his music was meant to sound?
Who will play Lou in the biopic? Assuming that a dearth of opportunities for badly glued-on facial hair will keep Oliver Stone out of consideration as director, who should direct this film?
Who do you predict will be the least-appropriate musician to appear in a sure-to-be-star-studded tribute to Lou held at Madison Square Garden or the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame? What song will said artist butcher or, shockingly, make work? What song will a hip-hop artist cover? What song will a contemporary country artist cover? Will Arcade Fire back Bowie or Springsteen?
Will we ever get the real story on Reed’s teenage or post-Velvets shock treatment? Is that a rock myth along the lines of Dylan’s motorcycle crash and ZZ Top performing with buzzards and buffalo on stage?
I first became aware of Lou Reed when I was 13 or so, the year I finally dipped into FM rock radio after a childhood of scratchy 45s; my first 2 dozen LPs by the likes of The Beatles, The Band, Joe Cocker, and Traffic; AM radio; and the latest TSOP album-length cuts hot off Philadelphia’s FM soul station, WDAS. Rock radio on the FM dial in 1976 wasn’t all the cool, older kids at my school made it out to be. I got to hear cuts from Who’s Next for the first time and more Mick Taylor-era Stones than I’d ever heard before on AM radio—and there Beatles A to Z weekends galore—but I had to wait through a bunch of stoopid blooz-rock that typically bored me once songs ran past the 3-minute mark: Led Zeppelin, Ted Nugent, Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Allman Brothers…not to mention the often perplexing genre known as progressive rock. Jethro Tull slotted in between all these uncomfortable sounds. Worse yet, FM rock in Philadelphia circa 1976 featured way more Jackson Browne and Eagles than I could stomach. Often I figured, The hell with trying to impress the cool kids! and flipped back to the comforting AM sounds of The Spinners and Elton John.
One long guitar-driven song that occasionally hit the airwaves on WMMR and WIOQ at that time was the Rock ‘n Roll Animal version of “Sweet Jane.” I already knew and loved “Walk on the Wild Side,” which somehow got played on AM radio when I was a preteen, but Lou Reed was just a name back then. The live version of “Sweet Jane,” with its swirling, fuzzed-out guitar intro followed by Reed’s strange, talk-sung, hectoring vocals and fatalistic lyrics always made me reach for the dial, the VOLUME dial. I cranked it up and marveled at the crunch Reed and his band produced. While the cool kids were slobbering over the quintuple-guitar solos of bands playing California Jam, I wanted to know more about the racket that this Lou Reed character was making. “Sweet Jane” (the live version), long intro solo and all, was the kind of song worth sticking out a friggin’ Foreigner song in hopes of hearing. The hairs stood up on my neck every time Reed sang, “Some people like to go out dancing/There’s other people like us, we gotta work.” This was the language I heard from my hard-working Mom after another long day’s work. This was way more true to the language in my home than songs about rockin’ and rollin’ all night, as was that “life is just to die” line that caps off “Sweet Jane.” Many a Saturday and Sunday morning in my house growing up was centered around such certain thoughts, as my Mom struggled to get out of bed and face another lonely day.
Not really the “best of,” but a boy’s got to start somewhere.
After a few months of waiting for “Sweet Jane” to play, I finally took matters into my own hands, buying the Rock ‘n Roll Animal album as well as a cheapo “best of” album. The “best of” album included “Walk on the Wild Side,” of course, as well as a bunch of songs that were really strange to my ears. “Satellite of Love” sounded familiar, like a David Bowie or Mott the Hoople song I would have already known, but some of the awkward songs stuck out, stuff like “How Do You Think It Feels,” which dealt with really personal, depressing stuff in a stilted musical arrangement. Like some of those lines from “Sweet Jane,” the mood of the song rang surprisingly true to the mood that sometimes pervaded my house. “Wild Child” was an easy release, like a cheap follow-up to “Walk on the Wild Side.” Some of the other songs were unlistenable for me then and now. From the beginning I would come to terms that Lou Reed had an amazing propensity to turn out absolute crap.
Our friend and Nixon’s Head guitarist Jim McMahon passed on Tuesday morning. We hope the following “24-string salute” and link to one of the final recordings he did with us do some justice to the man.
Jim McMahon making like the fadeout from “Maggie May.”
Our friend and bandmate Jim McMahon passed away Tuesday morning after a year-long battle with cancer. Almost a year ago to the day we received notification that Jim had been diagnosed. For a group of old music friends hovering around what we generously call “middle age,” this was chilling news. We knew Jim would face this challenge head on, fully prepared, and surrounded by loving friends and family.
No one in the band showed up better prepared to learn and record a new song than Jim. He was the first to arrive at my house for practice or recording session. “I hope you don’t mind me showing up early to set up and give my gear some time to breathe,” he’d say in his cheerful, slightly mischievous Philadelphia accent. Jim would carve out his turf in our tight space, begin unpacking his perfectly organized chords and effects boxes, and tell me about the characteristics he felt the guitars he brought might lend to our night’s work.
Jim owned a lot of gear and chose his artillery wisely. The rest of us were more focused on the aesthetics of his gear. We anxiously awaited the unpacking of his black guitar with the flames and the dice for volume and tone knobs. We dreaded the rare occasions he’d unpack a “pointy” guitar, something from his ‘80s metal-loving side. Jim packed what he felt the songs needed, not paying any mind to whether we were turned on by how an instrument looked. Often his hand-painted green Strat decorated with a big Woody the Woodpecker sticker would get the call. That was the first guitar we knew Jim by.Continue reading »
Jackie Lomax died on September 15, reportedly while attending the wedding of one of his children. That’s really sad. As a lifelong Beatles fanboy, I’ve known of Lomax and his excellent George Harrison-penned song “Sour Milk Sea” for years, yet I know almost nothing about him—or his take on releasing a debut album produced by Harrison and featuring all the Beatles but John and the band’s late-period buds. The songs that weren’t graced by Beatles and Co. feature the Wrecking Crew. Amazing.
Years ago I tracked down a copy of this debut album, Is This What You Want? It’s got its moments, most of which sound like mellow outtakes from Let It Be, if Ronnie Lane (or George) was fronting the band. It was not the Holy Grail album I’d hoped it would be. I’ve probably missed some landmark Mojo interview with Lomax, but I don’t think I ever came across an interview with the guy. I wanted to know more. Even in death, all I’ve read is the same couple of paragraphs and superstar associate names that I’ve been seeing for years. Isn’t the web supposed to provide details on the lives of anyone who’s done anything of public note at the touch of a few mouse clicks? What was cooking inside Jackie Lomax’s head all these years? Don’t we have a right to know?
(What do you know, I did happen across this piece!)
Well, of course not! However, I’m always curious to know how musicians make it through this life, whether they are wildly successful or not. In fact, it’s the “footnotes of rock” (no offense to anyone found at the bottom of the page) who usually interest me most. I welcome a link to or direct knowledge of more information. Maybe old Friends of the Hall Martin Newell (from the same town as Lomax, I believe) or Happiness Stan can fill us in. (Where oh where are you, Stan?) That said, I hope Lomax enjoyed his time on earth and felt he got the most out of making music, not in a stardom way but creatively. Here are a few of my favorite tracks from this album. Enjoy.
