Sep 092008
 

In the last week we were reminded of The Great 48‘s admission that he’s yet to hear John Lennon’s Plastic Ono Band album. We also learned that Hrrundivbakshi was just aboutt to pop his Four Seasons’ Genuine Imitation Life cherry. If you’ll recall, HVB even found an old quote from John Lennon, who praised the album at the time of its release.

Speaking of albums Lennon (and McCartney) praised, just a few minutes ago, while researching another possible topic, I was reminded that I’ve never heard Nilsson‘s debut album, Pandemonium Shadow Show. The album cover alone should have been reason for me to check out this album, but I’ve long been afraid of digging too deeply into anything by Nilsson. Don’t ask me why; I’m not sure that I understand it myself, although his album of Randy Newman covers helped me finally give Newman a fairer shake.

We rightfully pride ourselves on our dedication to knowing all there is to know about all that’s worth knowing in rock ‘n roll. We need to know these things to conduct the high-level, in-depth discourse that brings us to the Halls of Rock. However, I’m sure we all have a shocking gap in our accumulated rock knowledge. This is your chance to step forward and confess to not ever having heard an album over which rock nerds typically take pride in flaunting their educated opinion.

You are forgiven.

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Jul 062008
 


In round-robin fashion, let’s share our rock ‘n roll regrets. I’ll start. Your regrets do not have to mirror my initial example in form or content. The regret could be over the buying of a particular album, like one of those Style Council lps. The regret could be about a public expression of rock beliefs among the wrong crowd. Just be honest.

I regret not buying Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols on vinyl within a few years of its release. For years I was content to listen to friends’ and roomates’ copies, saving my precious few dollars for buying other records that no one in my circle of friends owned. Then, by the time I felt I should own the album myself, CDs were out and I didn’t want to be confused with some yuppie asshole who was coming late to the party. Cool record store clerks keep track of that stuff, you know. To this day I do not own Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols. I keep thinking I’ll find a used, worn copy at some out of the way location, where my latecomer purchase may not be recognized and reported by The Cool Patrol.

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May 272008
 

Be it the lack of an adequate digital remastering, the benefits of vinyl pops and scratches, or simply the satisfaction of watching a record spin around a turntable while magic sounds fill the room, what records are better on vinyl?

I’ll start with all Brian Jones-era Stones albums. The typically shoddy sound and pops and scratches present the band in all its tough, rock ‘n roll glory. Plus you never get distracted by hearing the acoustic guitar and piano on “Satisfaction”.

The Velvet Underground’s Loaded is much better on vinyl because no candy-ass team of engineers did a half-assed restoration of tape that was wisely snipped from “Rock ‘n Roll” and “Sweet Jane”.

Motown’s entire ’60s catalog, because the digital reissues sap the rhythm section of its punch, separating out individual drums, cymbals, and percussion. You shouldn’t be able to easily analyze the rhythm track on a Motown track; it’s for grooving, egghead!

The first Clash album. Nothing was lost in the grooves. Those songs sound terrible, in a good way. Hearing them better only makes them sound worse. Beside, it’s a sign that you were pretty cool if you bought it on vinyl when it came out.

Any one of the classic Neil Young albums. Who wants to hear Young in new jeans?

1950s rock ‘n roll. There’s nothing more to be heard that the original technology didn’t offer, and again, the surface noise adds to the toughness of the records.

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Apr 282008
 

You may recall The Great 48’s initial impressions on Elvis Costello and the Imposters’ recently released, fetishist-marketed, vinyl-only (until May 1, 2008), unnecessarily gatefold-sleeve-packaged album Momofuku. The vinyl/gatefold fetishist in me was intrigued. Although it’s very rare that I even get a chill listening to a new release by one of my favorite artists of all time, no matter how many lousy and mediocre albums he’s released since first parting ways with The Attractions, and bassist Bruce Thomas in particular, I’m still willing to listen to most of his new releases. The packaging of this one had me as stoked as I’ve been since the release of anything by Costello since his collaboration with Burt Bacharach, Painted from Memory (which, by the way, includes the last chill-inducing song I’ve heard by EC, “Toledo”). In fact, I was stoked enough to run out and by the record.

“No Hiding Place”

Like The Great 48 said, the vinyl is heavy – at least 178 grams – and it being vinyl, a physical medium, can develop character-building pops and scratches soon after it’s been played. You may be able to hear the surface noise on my copy of the album’s kick-off track, “No Hiding Place”. I love it! And the song has a nice drive to it, complete with so many of Elvis’ beloved vocal and melodic mannerisms. My only beef is that the wildcard provided by Bruce Thomas’ bass is not in evidence. Imposter bassist, Davey Faragher, locks into the right launching notes, has the right intentions, but he never really frees his mind or ass and cuts loose. With Steve Nieve tamed down a bit on a song like this, the song could use an unexpected jolt of energy. Costello’s guitar playing is rarely that exciting when heard (his best guitar work is typically those parts you can barely discern on albums like Get Happy!! and Trust). As a result of Faragher’s more conservative approach, drummer extraordinaire Pete Thomas is more prone to stick to basic “engineer’s dream” drum parts, that is, straightforward snare-and-kick patterns without many surprises.

“Pardon Me, Madam, My Name Is Eve”

It’s songs like “Pardon Me, Madam, My Name Is Eve” that make me wish I more frequently cared what it was Elvis was singing about. With the exception of the of Imperial Bedroom and half of the songs on Get Happy!! and Trust, it’s rare that I get a lyrical kick out of all but a song or two on most of the man’s albums. Witty, angry couplets that are fun to sing along with? Certainly! But an entire set of lyrics that I would care to read or think about? Rarely. Nevertheless, the stately formalisms of this song are worth spinning, and I highly appreciate not hearing the too-clever pinging snare that would have spoiled this song on one of those Mitchell Froom-related productions. Elvis seems to have finally moved away from his Tom Waits fixation. Thank god! (And that’s not to say there’s anything wrong with Tom Waits; it just didn’t fit Costello.)

“Drum & Bone”

Here’s another song that, 10 to 15 years ago, during the What Would Waits Do era, would have surely had its humble charms overtaken by marimbas, junkyard drums, and a proudly credited chamberlain. Instead Costello and the Imposters play “Drum & Bone” like an early run-through demo. The light, Mellow Mafia backing vocals are just right. Wish I was getting something out of the lyrics, though.

You know what’s the only thing that SUCKS about Momofuku (beside the album title)? The record cover! They’ve taken the time and care to release this thing on 180-gram vinyl, yet the gatefold cover is as flimsy as a manilla envelope. Any utilitarian notion of the gatefold is down the tubes, and I doubt this cover will outlast the May 1st date of the digital release of these tracks. I may have to cut up the crappy graphics of this cover and paste the panels to a real gatefold sleeve from the ’70s, one made of 180-gram cardboard. Other than that, I’m satisfied with my purchase of Momofuku.

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Apr 242008
 

Circumstances of purchase: Having decided it was too hot to cook dinner, we went out to a dairy bar in Watertown that has the best hamburgers in the greater Boston metro area and some damn fine vanilla soft-serve. Afterwards, we went to the nearby Newbury Comics at Fresh Pond, where I purchased the LP and Charity got the two-disc deluxe edition of Forever Changes. (Suck it, Mod.)

Mood at time of first listen: Still full of excellent burger and soft-serve, and pleased that that screechy Irish girl was finally voted off American Idol. Somewhat tired, but with a fair amount of work to do before I can go to sleep in good conscience.

Place of first listen: In the office, sitting at my desk. Charity’s at her desk behind me, filing an invoice and looking at her nightly blogs.

While taking off the shrinkwrap: Cool, a gatefold. Can’t even remember the last time I saw a gatefold LP cover — even back in the ’80s, they started just shoving both discs in a single sleeve.

On opening the package: Oh, it’s like PiL‘s Metal Box. Two discs, three songs per side. I would have preferred a single disc, but that’s just the purist in me.

Best line in liner notes: “This album has no connection with the restaurants of the same name, but Elvis Costello does recommend their cooking.” There was a profile of the chef who owns Momofuku, David Chang, in the New Yorker a few weeks ago. Honestly, even by chef standards, he came off like a major-league dick. I do hear the restaurants are good, though.

On taking out the first disc: There’s a cardboard stencil. I am so doing this. There’s stenciled graffiti all over my neighborhood, and I suspect this is just going to confuse people.

On placing the disc on the turntable: Good heavy vinyl. 180-gram at least.

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Apr 212008
 

I had a few free minutes this afternoon, so I swung by the trusty Goodwill to see what kind of dusty old vinyl I could score. I found a couple of old Paul Revere & the Raiders 45s I’d never heard before, and plunked down 50 cents. Score! The extent to which I enjoyed these singles got me thinking about this silly band, and I headed out into the wilds of the InterWeb to explore a bit. I found the following video, which further made me realize how much I prefer Mark Lindsay’s message to Arthur Lee’s. Talk about Winner Rock!

Here are the Revere numbers I found in the 45 bin today — all of which totally kick Love’s pathetic, two-steps-removed-from-Skip-Spence, bong-water-stain-in-the-Oriental-rug asses. The first, “Leslie”, is a foot-stompin’ ode to, uh, Mark Lindsay’s maid (check out the spoken word bits in the outro). The second, “The Great Airplane Strike”, is about as good a Stones raver this side of the actual Rolling Stones. And the last thrifty track, “Ups and Downs”, coincidentally, features a bullfighter trumpet section!

Come on, Mod — are you with me? Up Raiders! Down Love!

HVB

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Apr 152008
 

This Saturday, April 19, is Record Store Day. What better way to cure iPod fatigue than to take a trip to your local indie record store and buy some stuff you can get your hands on? Although Rock Town Hall supports the mighty iTunes empire, eMusic, and the practice of occasionally downloading tunes posted on blogs run by fellow music lovers, nothing beats getting to fondle a new record, be it on beloved vinyl or even that cold fish of a format, CD. It’s YOUR music. This Saturday, support YOUR local record store. Chat up a clerk. Steal a glance at the one woman browsing the racks. Bring home a bundle of new music, and report back to us over the weekend with your new conquests!

From www.recordstoreday.com

Cameron Crowe: “The record store. Where true fandom begins. It’s the soul of discovery, and the place where you can always return for that mighty buzz. The posters. The imports. The magazines. The discerning clerks, paid in vinyl, professors of the groove. Long live that first step inside, when the music envelopes you and you can’t help it. You walk up to the counter and ask the question that begins the journey–“what is that you’re playing?” Long live the record store, and the guys and girls who turn the key, and unlock those dreams, every day.”

Previously, in the News!

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