Monthly Archives: January 2016

“I don’t remember a moment in my life that wasn’t soundtracked. Whether I was taking piano lessons at Suzuki, exploring my parent’s record collection filled with obscure Canadian folk music, or pillaging my brother’s far-ranging tastes for psychedelia and avant-garde jazz, I was creating an appreciation for ‘the song’ that would turn into a lifelong love affair.”

“I’ve always been the type of music consumer to chase new discoveries down the rabbit hole. Every new artist opens doors to side projects and scenes. I absorb as much of it as I can before moving on. The internet would seemingly be the ideal medium for me, because it can feed the obsession until my ADD introduces a new muse. In the Napster days, I zealously squeezed out every megabyte of music my dial-up connection could muster. Suddenly, I had everything…and it meant nothing to me.

Music has always been a part of my self-identity, and I was tarnishing my spirit by ‘stealing’ it (not meant to alienate anyone, so it gets air quotes). I’m ritualistic in how I listen to music; I like peeling off the cellophane, smelling the sweet ink of the cover, poring over the liner notes for the producer, engineers, guest musicians, etc. I want to understand the who, what, where of how the album was created. This connection was lost when the relationship became a series of points and clicks.

Read More »

I know exactly what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, here we go, effete and impudent music snob turns his nose up at poor REO Speedwagon, and proceeds to incinerate them with the flamethrower of his adamantine scorn. Well, you couldn’t be more wrong. I LIKE REO Speedwagon, or at least their whimsically titled 1978 release You can Tune a piano, but you can’t Tuna fish. I love Gary Richrath’s guitar, I love Neal Doughty’s keyboards, I almost (but not quite) even like Kevin Cronin’s vocals. Sure, they’re metal lite and as often as not too sappy for words, but when they’re on—well, let’s just say I crank them up on my radio and sing along. At the top of my voice.

Formed at the University of Illinois (home of ROCK) in that great state in the latter sixties, the band stole their name from a mid-century commercial delivery truck and went through lead singers the way Oprah goes through empty platitudes. They seemed destined to journeyman status until Tuna came out. Sure, lots of people hated them, and for valid reasons; they’re MOR at its queasiest and most vapid, but on Tuna they miraculously got it right, with a score of up-tempo raves and a few power ballads that I almost like.

The stormtrooping opening track “Roll with the Changes” has it all; superb guitar solos, one mean organ solo, excellent backing vocals, and lots of cool jamming right there in the middle. I don’t care what anybody says; Richrath plays one mean guitar, and he plays for keeps. As for the power ballad “Time for Me to Fly,” I’ve searched my brain for years for the reason I like it. The acoustic guitars? Cronin’s sensitive guy vocals? The way it kicks into gear just long enough to escape utter pussification? I just don’t know, but I know this—I like it as much as like some of Elton John’s ballads, and I like Elton John’s ballads a lot.

Read More »

“I remember Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band blew me away.”

“I was 7 and my Dad’s friend gave me a Megadeath album for my birthday. I brought it home and my mother saw what I was holding…we got back in the car and went to The Great Escape (a record and comic store in Madison, Tennessee). She picked out Sgt. Pepper’s and that was it. Nothing against Megadeath at all…I do enjoy them.

Another record would be Troubadour by JJ Cale. I owned it in college and that was when I first owned a record player. I love JJ’s style…his writing, his guitar playing, his dingy basement dweller mad scientist/ laid back duuuuuude thing. I was and still am way into all of his records, however Troubadour is the top for me. The pedal steel solo in ‘Hey Baby’ is one of my favorite pedal steel solos.

Read More »

French vocalist Françoise Hardy openly disdains being described as an icon, though of course her modesty plays a large role in why she continues to be revered by so many. Naturally, the most important component in her enduring reputation is the music; a superb singer and true artist from within the oft-unrelenting 1960s pop machine, her records have aged exceptionally well, retaining the allure of their era as they lack period gaffes. Hardy’s first five French language albums, all originally issued by Disques Vogue from ’62-’66, comprise a highly worthy run of productivity; they’re available now on LP and CD singly or as a bundle through Light in the Attic.

Françoise Hardy is a cornerstone of the ’60s Euro-pop phenomenon known as yé-yé. Akin to rock, girl groups, svelte male crooners, and the majority of the era’s teen-oriented sounds in general, yé-yé was widely considered to be of an ephemeral nature, and by extension was basically dominated by the collusion of producers and labels. The singers, amongst them France Gall, Sylvie Vartan, Clothilde, and Chantal Kelly, were the crucial ingredient in a very calculated recipe.

Hardy differed from the norm by writing a significant amount of her own stuff, all but two songs on her debut in fact, and as a result she evaded the sometimes embarrassing subject matter thrust upon other yé-yé girls. Furthermore, she was regularly photographed with guitar in hand, though it’s unclear to what extent she actually played on these recordings. To borrow a phrase relating to Studio-era Hollywood, Hardy transcended the “genius of the system” method of pop manufacture, instead excelling at a subdued auteur-driven approach.

In the tradition of the original filmic auteurs, few recognized Hardy as a major talent during her emergence on the scene. She definitely sparked interest in fellow musicians however, including The Beatles, Mick Jagger, and Bob Dylan, the last so struck by her skills he dedicated the poem “Some Other Kinds of Songs” to her; it’s on the back of Another Side of Bob Dylan’s sleeve.

Read More »

Oddballs; you’ve got to love them. Just recently I was happy to happen upon a great band in the grand tradition of English eccentrics, namely Family, who failed to make much of an impression on anybody over the course of their 7 studio LPs, and may well best be remembered as the temporary home of Ric Grech and John Wetton. A psychedelic band boasting a lead singer (Roger Chapman) whose voice bears an uncanny resemblance to that of Peter Gabriel (that is when he doesn’t sound like Steve Marriott or Ronnie Lane), Family hung in from 1966 to 1973, when they released their final LP, 1973’s excellent It’s Only a Movie.

To be honest, they sound more like an English folk band with mild progressive pretentions than a psychedelic band to this critic. Songs like the title cut are mildly freaky music hall tunes, while “Leroy” (and this is one of the reasons I love them) sounds like a great lost Faces tune. Meanwhile “Boom Bang” kinda reminds me of Steve Marriott, and I think you know what I’m getting at. It’s Only a Movie is an LP that’s all over the place, but it works magnificently.

I’m going to tell you the plain truth: Family will not blow you away. But they’re a great lost link in the English music time line, and they’re fun and funky, and you could do much, much worse. Unlike Marriott and the more overtly proggish bands of their time, they never hold you hostage with 17-minute songs full of feudal synthesizers (see Gabriel’s Genesis) or inter-song rants about this social issue or that (the Humble Pie era Steve Marriott’s great downfall). No, they keep ‘em short and sweet, and just weird enough to keep you intrigued.

Yeah, let me reiterate: Family sounds like a union of Genesis, Faces, and Humble Pie, with some eccentric theatrics tossed in to liven up matters. And while there’s nothing as good as the bellowing “Sat’d’dy Barfly” (from the band’s 1971 LP Fearless) on It’s Only a Movie, the LP has plenty to offer. Take “Buffet Tea for Two,” which incorporates some great power chords with a folksy melody, then adds lots of slightly off-kilter lounge piano and strings as it climbs and climbs to a marvelous crescendo. The guitar towards the end is pretty cool too.

Read More »