Monthly Archives: February 2016

“To remove the vinyl for Led Zeppelin III and turn to my friend Joe, neither one of us realized that in this circular form would be our spiritual salvation. The first seconds of scratch before “Immigrant Song” were like the clouds opening before God reveals himself to you. We turned to each other and sealed a pact that music would be our calling forever.”

“Another life turning moment was the first time I made love to a woman by the name of Stella. A shy, introverted, 21 year old seduced by a Maria Muldaur vinyl spinning its way on the alpaca carpet where we laid til the dawn. The universe stopped.

Nothing like the transformative power of an after school bowl coupled with Eric Clapton’s “Layla” as loud as necessary to blot out the tedium of a bored teenager. You could study these for hours. An album was the complete story. It could take months to totally decipher an excellent album.

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Look, I’m gonna be straight with you; no way would I have reviewed this LP by hair metal legends Mötley Crüe if it weren’t for a snippet from a review from musico Robert Christgau in which he gleefully states, “It’s hardly news that this platinum product is utter dogshit even by heavy metal standards.” And who then goes on to mock the song “Ten Seconds to Love,” in which according to Christgau, “Vince Neil actually seems to boast about how fast he can ejaculate.”

Vince Neil might have made a decent song about how FAR he can ejaculate—I once read, for instance, about how the late Beat poet Allen Ginsberg once left a friend’s bedroom with cum dripping from the ceiling—but instead he wrote an ode designed to console all of the world’s other premature ejaculators. I suppose we males should all say thanks to itchy-trigger-finger Vince for speaking out on such a taboo issue.

I have never been and will never be a hair metal aficionado—I’m too much of a pointy-headed, anti-populist intellectual—but what really struck me about 1983’s Shout at the Devil is just how far from utter dogshit it is. Sure, there’s some utter dogshit on it, but it also includes some hard rockers that (almost) allow me to ignore the ridiculous outfits, hair spray, and general low IQ of the band’s presentation. But who says a song has to have a high IQ? Sometimes a high IQ is a bad thing. Take Rush. And sometimes a low IQ can be a good thing; case in point Slade, whose utter inability to spell constituted half their charm.

Everybody—even geeks like me—knows the band. Vince Neil handled lead vocals, Mick Mars played lead guitar, Nikki SIxx manned the bass guitar, and the one and only Tommy Lee kept things interesting on drums. And the drama! Neil killed Hanoi Rocks drummer “Razzle” Dingley in a drunk driving accident. Sixx overdosed on heroin several years later and was temporarily declared dead. And his band mates’ behavior was hardly more sober-minded. Drugs, alcohol, women, and fast cars abounded. Why, I’m surprised they weren’t responsible for chopping the drummer for Def Leppard’ arm off with a battle axe. In short, amongst the lethally unruly hair band contingent, they were the worst offenders, which is really saying something.

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Press Play is our Monday recap of the new and FREE tracks received last week to inform the next trip to your local indie record store.

SUPERFLOWER – 11
Furniteur – Falling (Twin Peaks)
Eryn Allen Kane – Have Mercy (The 83rd Remix)
Skin & Bones – Bad Feeling
Jonas Friddle – Sugar Moon
Relick – Offering
Mr Bones – You Ruined It
Universal Thee – Hounds
Gazebos – I Don’t Wanna Be Here
The Blind Pets – Up All Night

TVD SINGLE OF THE WEEK:
Laura Carbone – Swans

FADES – Breaking Through The Walls
Poly-Math – Ekerot
American Killers – Big City
Mica & Kardanski – Trouble (Sparkz Remix)
Basement Freaks – Little Red Afro (Tribute To Jon H) (feat. Mustafa Akbar)
Willie Colon & Hector Lavoe – Eso Se Baila Asi (Uproot Andy Remix)
Mind Cntrl & Night Lurkers – Vintage (Original Mix)
Owen Bones – Forecast (feat. THIRSTY & High)
Grandtheft & Lambo – Boogie And Ball (feat. Philly Swain)
Major Lazor – Boom (Arona Mane Rendition)

“My first experience with vinyl was my parents’ collection, which they kept behind a curtain in our living room. Among the records I pilfered from them to play in my room are David Bowie’s The Man Who Sold the World and Joni Mitchell’s Blue. They got me back though. Some years after losing my copy of the Is This It by the Strokes, I found it behind the curtain, resting comfortably between Paul Simon and the Beatles.”

“I bought all my first vinyl at English charity shops. A favourite school vacation activity for me and my friends was to attack the record sections in the Oxfam, Barnado’s, British Heart Foundation, or Christian Aid on my local high street in East Grinstead, Sussex, looking to spend around £5 on a big haul. Sometimes we bought for the music—like The Queen is Dead by the Smiths, which saw me through my teen years. Sometimes we bought for the covers. This is how I discovered the Captain and Tennille.

Doing my early record shopping in charity shops taught me that there’s a world of music out there beyond the biggest songs and albums of any era. I’ve always had a soft spot for the longest, least catchy song on an album, and the weirdest, least accessible album in a discography. Spending so much time looking through funny titles and artwork has influenced my attitude as well—there’s always a part of me that is interested in being jokey and absurd with my own stuff.

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“As a teenager, on every Tuesday (new release day), I would visit Westwood or Sunset Tower Records in L.A.”

“It was a serious weekly ritual for me. I recall getting tons of new releases—Nirvana, Korn, Ice Cube, Nine Inch Nails—you name it, I devoured it. Sometimes I would just go there alone and walk around for hours just to check out all the amazing album cover artwork. L.A.’s just not the same without Tower—it’s an experience I still really miss and wish kids today could enjoy that feeling.

One last thing about the new vinyl releases—I hope they can make vinyl more affordable in the coming years. It seems like it’s currently pretty expensive and should be easier to obtain for anyone existing on a budget…$35 or $40 for a record album just seems out of reach for most people.”
—Navarone Garibaldi, Frontman & Guitar

“One of my earliest and strongest vinyl memories takes me back to when my parents had the soundtrack album to The Jungle Book. That album was so killer on all levels. The cover art was amazing, that illustration was mesmerizing.”

“As a kid, I was blown away by hearing Louis Prima sing “I Wanna Be Like You”…I was digging that performance like crazy! Later, I learned that Prima’s duet was with Phil Harris, who was the voice of Baloo the bear in the film and on the album. They swing like crazy on that track.

Speaking of swing, I recently nabbed a killer Benny Goodman box set collection on vinyl, at Amoeba Music here in L.A. It has all the greats that you would expect, “Sing Sing Sing” etc., but I’m also digging deep on the other tracks that I wasn’t familiar with. There’s something magical about the vinyl format—the presentation, artwork, sound, it all makes it really special.”
—Chuck Holiday, Bass & Vocals

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Des Moines musician Max Jury has given us “Numb,” a one-song preview from his self-titled album. It’s a warm track that gleams bright riffs and gospel echoes—providing the perfect escape from the cold winter. The full album is out this June, but until then, “Numb” will certainly suffice. During the wait, Jury plans to take his Midwestern spirit across the pond, embarking on a European tour that covers London and Bristol among other cities this May.

On the surface, Jury’s style seems undeniably American—big chords, a room-filling sound, and an open road on the album cover—however, a closer listen reveals underlying licks that seem to have a slight mod influence. It’s carefully crafted, revealing new timbres with every listen.

“Numb” opens on slow ascending background vocals, full chords on the piano, and a fervent crackle. Jury soon enters, singing in a longing tone. At the one-minute mark, the drums and bass fill in and an early guitar solo shatters the song’s somber start. This lively crescendo continues and Jury’s lyrics begin to rhyme effortlessly. By the end, the song has turned into an alluring synthesis of slick arpeggios, a strong bass-line, and electric vocals. It’s a track that’ll do well on repeat until June.

Pre-order Max Jury now via Marathon Artists.

Amongst the tall-tale tellers, whopper merchants, purveyors of gross exaggerations, and flat-out lie-detector-failing prevaricators my old man used to consort with in his retirement years down at the old fishing hole, there was one—there’s always one—fella who, no matter what the fallacious goods on sale were, would say grimly, “I ain’t buyin’.” Then he’d spit into the water, look at his companions with disgust, and refuse to say a word until somebody cracked a beer and handed it to him.

That geriatric Socrates is long dead, but I feel his spirit dwelling within me as I listen to Deer Tick songwriter and singer John McCauley, who comes to us by way of Providence, Rhode Island. Rhode Island is not hailed as the home of the blues, or alt-country, and Mr. McCauley, who is still wet behind the ears, does not convince. Sure, he has a voice as raw as sandpaper on a yam, but like the fella on the dock used to say, “I ain’t buyin.’” And now it’s my chance to hock a disgusted loogie onto the floor by my desktop.

Don’t get me wrong. His voice is all piss and vinegar, but it doesn’t sound earned, and I don’t believe a word of the doom-and-damnation tunes (in the form of 2009’s Born on Flag Day) he’s brung to sell you (a 78 rpm, for a dime!) on your sweaty shotgun shack porch. He can yowl all he wants—I still intend to send him packing the way he come, like a slick Bible salesman in a Flannery O’Connor story. He kind of reminds me of the early Dylan; he hasn’t grown into himself yet, and all his seeming conviction doesn’t change a thing.

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“Let me start out by saying I do not own any vinyl. But wait, don’t go just yet! You should know that one of my biggest ‘adult’ goals is to buy a great record player with sh*t tons of records. Unfortunately, living in NYC most of the time, there’s not much room in cramped, unreasonably expensive apartments to start a real collection. But I will. One day.”

“So yeah, no actual records but I certainly share a love for it. My first experiences with vinyl was like most kids, through my parents. My dad had a limited, but very hip record collection. Standard classic rock repertoire (Zeppelin, Beatles, Cream, Allman Brothers, Rolling Stones, etc.), some blues (Freddie King, Howlin’ Wolf, etc.), and some songwriters (Dylan, Cat Stevens, etc.).

He didn’t play records often but when he did it was the best. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of seeing vinyl covers, reading the liner notes, and actually touching the album. That tactile feeling. I miss that. That’s what you don’t get with itunes and spotify. Getting that moment to sit down in front of a stereo, listen down to the entire album while reading about it, and seeing the vibes the artist left for us to discover with their art. It was magic.

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