Feb 212013
 

I am by no means the Hall’s expert on Kevin Ayers, but since he died recently and he is of interest to a few of my favorite Townspeople, relatively new and old, and since these very same folks have been chipping in their memories of enjoying the man’s music, let me open up a formal discussion for the benefit of those of you who know almost nothing about the guy and, even more so, for my own education.

I first came across Ayers in college through 2 sources. First, there was that June 1, 1974 album, which I hungrily borrowed from a friend for the chance to hear Eno, John Cale, and Nico in a band with Mike Oldfield (whose music I only knew through sneaking into my first R-rated movie, The Exorcist) and this Ayers guy, about whom I knew nothing. The album was OK, as I spun it over the next few days, trying like mad to get high enough to feel like it was great, but I returned it to my friend and never felt tempted to buy it for myself.

Next, over the last few weeks of my freshman year, I became friends with this tall, geeky, super-underground weirdo-prog guy, John. We initially bonded over artists like Captain Beefheart, the Velvet Underground, psychedelic Beatles, and King Crimson, the last of whom I’d recently been introduced to by another friend. He took this as a sign that I may be ready for exploring the deeper hippie-prog territory he specialized in, stuff like Henry Cow, Van Der Graaf Generator, and Gong. I wasn’t thrilled about all of those underground prog bands, but it was cool to hear new stuff and try to get a handle on this proto-Thurston Moore look-alike I’d suddenly befriended.

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Feb 172013
 

Following up on a story about the passing of the guy who wrote “Along Comes Mary,” Tandyn Almer, has unexpectedly turned me on to a bunch of great songs I’d never heard before — and one or two I’ve always loved that it turns out Tandyn wrote, in whole or in part. (“Shadows & Reflections”? “Sail On Sailor”?  Almer co-wrote both of those.)

Too many online remembrances and feature stories have focused on the more curious and “newsworthy” (in a VH1 Behind the Music kind of way) aspects of Tandyn’s life, and that’s a shame. By all accounts, he was happy and well liked, and that’s what really matters. A good, and seemingly well informed, accounting of Almer’s accomplishments can be found in this excellent career retrospective/obituary, found somewhat strangely on a Catholic faith-related blog.

Anyhow, I guess I just wanted to pass along my respects for a great artist I basically knew nothing about until today. Being able to hear the original Eddie Hodges version of “Shadows & Reflections” alone — that was totally wonderful; what an awesome arrangement! (Also, check out “Butterfly High,” a psychedelic masterwork performed by Hodges and Almer under the most excellent band name “Paper Fortress.”)

HVB

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Feb 082013
 

As we come together to determine—once and for all—the Saddest Story in Rock, we are reminded of just how painful the road to artistic enlightenment can be. It is not for us to judge why any of the following artists came to such sad conclusions, only to assess which life story is saddest. [Please note the box of tissues sitting on the coffee table between us.]

The nominees and the RTH People’s Poll for the Saddest Story in Rock follow…after the jump!

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Feb 052013
 

Reg Presley, singer for The Troggs, has died at 71. The band had a handful of excellent garage-rock classics, but they will forever be known for their version of “Wild Thing,” a song so simple and direct that just about any band has covered it at one time or another. However, no one has come close to matching The Troggs’ hit version, not even Jimi Hendrix, who felt compelled to light his guitar on fire to try in effort to keep pace with Presley and his mates’ incendiary performance. If a singer ever owned a song it was Reg Presley owning “Wild Thing.” Not even Brian Jones-era Mick Jagger could have out-snarled and out-leered his way through that song.

There would be no Stooges’ “No Fun” without Presley and his mates’ take on “Wild Thing.” What kind of world would we be living in without “No Fun”? I shudder the thought. There’s only one thing left to say…after the jump!

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Jan 152013
 

I’m too busy to synthesize this piece on a song written by former NFL quarterback Donovan McNabb’s mom, but if you have even a mild interest in the cross-section between sports and smothering, well-intentioned motherhood I highly recommend you reading it.

Man, I am so thankful my Mom doesn’t fancy herself a songwriter.

What are the most embarrassing tribute songs, the ones the person being celebrated probably wishes were never written? For the purposes of this discussion suggest tribute songs to specific people. It can’t be any old creepy love song to an anonymous and possibly even imaginary figment of the songwriter’s imagination.

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Dec 122012
 

Ravi Shankar seemed like a great…man. Now he is dead at 92.

Clearly, he was rock’s greatest sitar player. Would the Western world know a sitar from a summer squash if not for Shankar’s weird entry into the world of rock ‘n roll? Shankar turned the Beatles, the Stones, the Byrds, and even Eric Burdon onto the sitar. It might be argued that his influence on George Harrison had as much to do with the Beatles’ break-up than Yoko’s influence on John. The sitar became groovy, man. Far out. For Western hippies drugs were a gateway to the instrument’s resonant charms. Ravi wasn’t thrilled with the notion of kids dropping acid to his music. He was playing serious shit: classical music in his culture.

I understand little about the sitar and even less about India’s classical music tradition, its notation and tempos. As I do with Ornette Coleman‘s harmelodics I only retain scraps of useless information and hearsay, something about measures being fluid in the Indian classical music tradition. Coleman’s music also sounds far out on drugs.

“On one hand,” he said in a 1985 interview, “I was lucky to have been there at a time when society was changing. And although much of the hippie movement seemed superficial, there was also a lot of sincerity in it, and a tremendous amount of energy. What disturbed me, though, was the use of drugs and the mixing of drugs with our music. And I was hurt by the idea that our classical music was treated as a fad — something that is very common in Western countries.

“People would come to my concerts stoned, and they would sit in the audience drinking Coke and making out with their girlfriends. I found it very humiliating, and there were many times I picked up my sitar and walked away.

“I tried to make the young people sit properly and listen. I assured them that if they wanted to be high, I could make them feel high through the music, without drugs, if they’d only give me a chance. It was a terrible experience at the time.

“But you know, many of those young people still come to our concerts. They have matured, they are free from drugs, and they have a better attitude. And this makes me happy that I went through all that. I have come full circle.” – Ravi Shankar, quoted in The New York Times obit.

As Norah Jones stormed the Grammys about a dozen years ago, the world learned that Ravi was her father. Weird, and it did not help me understand Ravi’s music any more than my ears and nerve endings did, even when I was on drugs. I’m not making fun of Ravi Shankar, mind you, but my own ignorance—and my ability to appreciate music despite the huge gaps in my intellect. Does it matter if the music swings?

Previously.

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Oct 102012
 

EXTINCT!

Townsman RaoulG asked:

Who are the extinct rock ‘n roll bands? The ones that can’t even trot out one original member? Even the “Ramones” could go out with a drummer, correct?

Our old friend The Great 48 asked a similar question on his Facebook page a couple of weeks ago. The only major band he could think of that was extinct was The Jimi Hendrix Experience. I don’t recall his Facebook friends coming up with anything else. Someone even tried to shoot down that one case of rock ‘n roll extinction by citing the possibility that Billy Cox was briefly a member of what had still been called the Experience. Come on.

So, who are rock ‘n roll’s extinct bands?

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