Music Wonkery

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Ministry Nostalgia Wednesday

Music Wonkery

Apropos of recent music wonkery by Johno, I got to thinking about vinyl albums...erm, “alba”?...Maps, “alba”?...and was trying to recall the last vinyl record I bought.

As longtime readers may recall, I worked one summer in a record store ca 1997.  It was at the end of the Old Ways, when most of the store was CDs but there was a cassette wall at one end and, no crap, a small bin of re-issued 45s (that’s as in “rpm”, Buckethead, not “ACP"- if only!) opposite the register.  The experience was good in many ways- heard tons of great music, got some decent swag, decent discount on the few things I bothered to buy- and terrible for all the usual reasons that come from dealing with the public, fortified by that public’s complete resistance to buying anything good.  I swore that if I sold one more single of Butterfly Kisses I was going to start replacing the discs with Straight Outta Compton.  But that summer was spent right on the terminator, where forever after music would be dominated by digital collection and players.

Which brings me back to vinyl.  I’m pretty sure the last vinyl I bought was a real nice specimen of Axis:Bold as Love- because I do like to wave my freak flag high, although not as often as I used to- but that was purely for its own sake.  I was trying to remember the last one I bought because it was the best medium available- I didn’t have a CD player yet, and always thought tapes sounded like fuck so tried to refrain from those.  I’m pretty sure it was Iron Maiden’s Somewhere in Time, ca 1986.

What about you?

[Wik]In other reflections or musing about digital musics, I’ve just learned that if you’re copying a CD into itunes while writing a Ministry post, and, once copied, take it out and put in a new CD, your entire post vanishes.  I wasn’t sure how to build that into a digital-music-hates-the-analog-Ministry riff, so I just left it alone and rewrote it as best I could recollect. 


Posted by GeekLethal on 03/28/07 at 09:58 AM
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Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Everything Old is New Again, Again

Darwin Award ContenderFilthy LucreMusic Wonkery

In a followup to my thoughts the other day about the self-destructive tactics of the music bidness, the New York Times has an interesting article about the sunset of the album as the dominant commercial musical medium. Last year, digital singles outsold physical albums for the first time, which is bad news for the labels as their per-unit take on digital singles is several orders of magnitude lower than on traditional album sales. In a fascinating turn of events, the Times article also profiles a young group who have signed a singles deal with Universal, and who are thrilled at the low-risk exposure they’ll get for recording three to five songs, total, for a major label. The majors in turn are contemplating turning this sort of contract, previously reserved for novelty records and one-off all star fiascos, into one of their most common deal structures. This is a surprising and ironic turn of events.

Well, perhaps it’s not surprising to you, but it sure as hell is to me. Not six years ago I sat in a room with the management team of the label group I worked for and listened to them announce that we would be getting out of the singles business forever.

To be fair, it made sense at the time. Back in early 2001, the music industry was even farther away then it is today from figuring out how to make money off of digital downloading, and sales of physical singles had dwindled. The singles floor racks of the 1960s had shrunk in the 1980s to a singles wall, and by the turn of the millennium was just a couple singles next to the checkout counter. Albums ruled the day. All across the industry, labels were getting out of the singles business as sales dried up. Sure, there were a couple markets where they still moved, but for the most part, it was dead as disco. Digital media wasn’t even a blip except insofar as it could help market traditional CDs.

And that’s the central insight that I think is missing from the usual narrative of how the music industry is hidebound, venal, greedy, etc. etc. etc. (all true anyway no matter what, but still...). For fifty years or more, the music industry has been able to dictate, or at worst, adapt readily, to major shifts in media. This is because new form factors came along at a slow pace, and were never all that disruptive to the current status quo. The grooved record had more than three quarters of a century in the sun, from its introduction in the early years of the 20th century to the late 1970s, before it was supplanted by the tape.  Tapes too, had a good twenty-year or more run before they were indisputably tackled by the compact disc. And the compact disc, again, had about twenty years between its major commercial adoption and the current seven-year slow strangulation the industry is currently undergoing.

And this time, it’s not just form factor and playback technology that’s changing. This time it’s the entire distribution chain that’s been upended, the very business processes that the labels and their affiilated industries (manufacturing, distribution, commercial radio, retail) have built their success around for, in some cases, a hundred years. That’s hard to understand, much less accept. I can’t imagine any industry agile enough to turn on a dime like the record industry should have when Napster first came on the scene, so a few years delay in getting their act together is no surprise. But now that seven years have gone by, it’s still pretty clear that the industry as a whole is still trying to sell buggy whips to consumers who have never even seen a horse.

As for the irony, I do find it ironic that what seemed like a very sound business decision in 2001 - shutting down the singles shop because singles don’t sell - turns out to be an early indicator that the music industry was not only unequpped to adapt to the implications of downloadable music, but at the time the technology matured were actively shutting down the only parts of their business that could even comprehend any part of what the future would hold.


Posted by Johno on 03/27/07 at 03:16 PM
Darwin Award Contender • Filthy Lucre • Music Wonkery • Permalink

Sunday, March 25, 2007

The Song Remains The Same

Darwin Award ContenderFilthy LucreMusic Wonkery

Buckethead recently sent me a link to an interesting article in The Consumerist on how one regular innocent music fan found himself driven to desperate piracy by the perversity of the record industry.

In short, this music fan, who has given in his estimate about $20,000 to the various labels in revenues over the years, found himself stymied by the DRM on the most recent Luna album.

Last week while I was busy importing my CD’s into iTunes so I could listen to them on my iPod (a most tedious task), I hopped on the internet. iTunes was busy importing a Luna CD, one of my favorite bands, so I decided to see what they were up to since they disbanded a few years back. After a few clicks in Google, I found a blog site describing a posthumous, internet-only release of a collection of covers the band had recorded throughout their career. While I already had many of the songs (they were often featured on b-sides and imported singles, etc.), I couldn’t resist tracking down this compilation. As I read further on the blog site I encountered a link to a .zip file containing the entire collection ripped as 128kbps mp3’s.

While I must admit being tempted to simply click away and download the collection, I though to myself, “Well, if I buy the music it’s only $10, and this way I will get high quality .WAV files. Besides, it’s not like Luna were getting rich off of their careers, they could use the money...”

So I headed to Rhino’s online store, purchased the music, and downloaded the files.

A little later that evening, I tried to move the .WMA files into iTunes, when I received an error message telling me that iTunes could not import them because they were copy protected. I downloaded the files again (which took another 12 minutes) and again, the same message.

So I called Rhino customer support and after an 8 minute wait spoke with a representative. She informed me that the files were indeed copy protected so that I could only play them on specific music players, most notably not iTunes.

“You don’t understand,” I said, “These files were not copied or pirated, I actually purchased them.”

“Well” she responded, “You didn’t actually purchase the files, you really purchased a license to listen to the music, and the license is very specific about how they can be played or listened to.”


Posted by Johno on 03/25/07 at 05:02 PM
Darwin Award Contender • Filthy Lucre • Music Wonkery • Permalink

Thursday, March 15, 2007

In the music biz, the punchline is often the whole joke

Music Wonkery

Go here. Now.

image


Posted by GeekLethal on 03/15/07 at 05:42 PM
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Wednesday, December 20, 2006

A Little Christmas Treat

Lead Pipe CrueltyMusic Wonkery

There was a time, several years ago, when my life was all vodka dinners and spite. Yep, those were good days back in the music business. To take our minds off the spite, me and some friends got together and did stupid shit. Some in this situation get into fights. Some guys play rugby. Some golf; some collect stamps or fly to Singapore to perform acts of unspeakable beastliness.

We, we screwed around with media.

There’s a tape out there in the world somewhere, that features—yes—me and Jenna Jameson. But not in the way you think. No; think the opposite. It’s real funny.

And there’s also the following, recorded shortly before Christmas, the year 2000, by the Jersey City Taberknuckle Choir. That’s me on lead vocals and drunken bass.


Posted by Johno on 12/20/06 at 09:14 PM
Lead Pipe Cruelty • Music Wonkery • Permalink

Friday, December 15, 2006

Rock is dead

Just So You KnowMusic Wonkery

No, really. I mean it. Rock is dead. Ahmet Ertegun has passed from this world, meaning the single most influential, visionary, and musically aware record label chief of the past century is no longer with us. In every sense, this marks the end of an era.

I was going to eulogize him at length, but everything that needs to be said has already been said, by Reason’s Jesse Walker:

To sign Ray Charles, and to refuse to sign Jackson Browne—Ahmet Ertegun was a man with taste.

Rest in peace, my favorite Turk


Posted by Johno on 12/15/06 at 01:26 PM
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Friday, November 03, 2006

Girl Power, Like It Used To Be

Music Wonkery

The Slits were one of the more interesting stories to come out of the great first wave of London punk bands in the late 1970s. Indeed, they are only incidentally ‘punk,’ in that the teenaged founding members (all female) began their careers as musical incompetents of the “bashed guitar and screamed vocals” school. But by the time Cut, their debut album came out in 1979, the group had moved far beyond the strictures of formal ‘punk,’ integrating reggae rhythms and dub production into their arsenal. Their second (and last worthwhile) album, 1981’s Return of the Giant Slits deepened their commitment to experimentation, adding world-music gestures to their already wide-ranging sound. After these two achievements, the band broke up as its members began to work in other ensembles. They joined bands like X Ray Spex and The Raincoats as legendary pioneers of independent-minded feminist punk, but for the next two and a half decades didn’t record another note together.

The closest comparison I can make to the Slits’ classic albums is to Public Image Ltd’s Metal Box LP, which merged reggae, rock, punk, scratchy and sketchy guitar work, and (let’s say) “interesting” vocal performances) in a similar manner. If you’re not familiar with that record, then all I can say is that the Slits’ music was difficult, catchy, bassy, super-feminist, creative, and off-putting in equal measure, and they deserve the reputation they have as one of the most pioneering and essential British punk bands. It’s not necessarily anything that every person on the planet needs to have in their collection, but people who are into PiL, Neil Young’s noisy and angry side, Lou Reed, or post-punk of the Mission of Burma/Sonic Youth school, really need to get their Slits on.

And now The Slits have re-formed and seem intent on recapturing the old magic. Last year, core members Tessa Pollit (sometimes Pollitte) and Ari Up (sometimes Upp) teamed with Sex Pistols drummer Paul Cook, Adam and the Ants guitarist Marco Pirroni, and the daughters of Cook and The Clash’s Mick Jones to record three songs for a newly released EP, Revenge of the Killer Slits.

I’m not quite sure what to make of it. Revenge is either a nostalgia trip or a bold new offering, or it could be both. I can’t tell. The lead track, “Slits Tradition” is a clattering and edgy mess that merges their old blocky punk-reggae sound with 2006 hip-hop beats to decent musical effect. However, the lyrics aren’t anything special, featuring Ari Up boasting about the Slits’ greatness in a faintly embarrassing dancehall accent. It’s a little good, a little not-good, faintly embarrasing, but deeply intriguing.

The second track is more straightforward; an old-school punk workout called “Number One Enemy” that was written in 1976 and belongs completely to that era. From the Sex Pistols-y guitar to the one-note vocals, this is 100% nostalgia trip, albeit a pretty good one.

It’s the third of three that’s worth the price of admission. “Kill Them With Love” is a dubby and spare drum-and-bass track which puts Up’s vocals (which influenced Siouxsie Sioux and Bjork, to name just two) right up front. Although it’s not exactly the greatest thing I’ve ever heard, it does promise good things from a more permanent Slits reunion. It indicates that Up and Pollit still have some of the old magic and possibly some new mojo too, and are not just adults who still think they can relate to kids these days. If nothing else, the fact that they are trying as adults to revist what they did so very well as teenagers suggests they haven’t lost the boldness that made them great.

There’s a lot left unsaid by this three-song EP. The original Slits were stunning partly because they were so consciously political, so consciously feminist, and so musically fearless. The risks they took and the rules they broke paid off in spades in 1979, and whether that’s because they were too young to know better to too young to care is beside the point. But the Slits are now in their forties, and it’s too early to tell whether that crazy-ass energy that made their original work so thrilling and creative has left them, or merely matured into something new and thrilling.


Posted by Johno on 11/03/06 at 09:50 PM
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Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Jane Says Buy This Album

Music Wonkery

It’s hard to overstate how much, as a pimply and earnest teenager from Ohio with a serious jones for escapism, heavy-duty philosphizing, and wailing guitars, Jane’s Addiction meant to me. By 1991, I’d gotten pretty far on my own, crawling past Warrant, Poison and Def Leppard to artier stuff like Zep and Tull, and finally discovering Nine Inch Nails and Ministry. By that time, the creepy din of Trent Reznor and Al Jourgenson had my adolescent mind primed and ready for the decadent racket of Jane’s.

I remember the winter of 1991-1992, driving around in cars with my friends. Shawn had the treacherous old Chevette with no floorboards he’d gotten for $35, and Tom had the tiny Toyota truck and then the boat-sized woodpaneled station wagon. We’d be tooling around the barren back roads of Northeastern Ohio, tuning the radio obsessively, searching for another dose of “Smells Like Teen Spirit.”

No fooling, when Alternative Rock hit, it was like the dawn breaking through a permanent midnight. Sure, we already had what we in my area called “progressive music,” our Information Society, Depeche Mode, Cure, Violent Femmes, and so on. But as good as that stuff was (and is), the incurable Britishness of most of these bands failed to really connect with something primal inside me. As a red-blooded briarhopper (that’s ‘flatland hillbilly’wink my need for rock (the same primal urge that fuels my enduring love for NASCAR, demolition derby, and NFL football in the rain and mud) just can’t be satisfied for long with synthesizers and doggerel about blisters in the sun.

Rising out of the same trashy, glammy El Lay scene that gave us Motley Crue, Black Flag, X, The Red Hot Chili Peppers, and even The Eagles, Jane’s Addiction combined parts that just should never have worked together into one messy machine. Stephen Perkins was a clattery, sticky drummer who played like he’d be as much at home in some tweeked-up bebop band, Eric Avery’s bass was just a little too metal to be funky, Dave Navarro was a metal guitarist with an amazing head for dissonant rhythm parts and bluesy leads, and Perry Farrell was… well, what he hell was he? An androgynous little walking id with a thin whine of a voice who keened and snarled and bled lyrics that in anybody else’s hands would have been painfully earnest, high-school jottings somehow given dignity through sheer force of will and questionable sanity. They were like Guns ‘n’ Roses’ arty little brothers, hanging out smoking pot in the high school art room while their big bro lurked behind the school beating up nerds.

Together they made two absolutely classic albums, 1988’s Nothing’s Shocking and 1991’s Ritual de lo Habitual that threw together art-school pretension, metal, a few nods to prog-rock, and a heavy dose of Mexican mysticism.

And then they were gone. That was the end of the road for them. Three albums (counting their rarely-heard debut) and gone. Perry Farrell threw his energy into the diminishing returns of the Lollapalooza festivals, and into his next musical project Porno for Pyros. He seemed to be trying to throw his arms around the world and give everyone a big patchouli-scented Los Angeles hug. Dave Navarro retreated into a sleazy demimonde of drugs and prostitutes, eventually shacking up with Baywatch babe Carmen Electra and engaging in some legendary feats of debauchery while cutting himself off from the world. Just like in Jane’s Addiction, his darkness and rock energy pulling in the opposite direction of Farrell’s utopian guttery poetry. Avery and Perkins launched projects that few people seemed to want to hear. But between their music and Farrell’s brilliant idea for Lollapalooza, Jane’s Addiction did as much as anyone to usher in the sea-change that overtook popular music in the early 1990s, the decade or so where rock was young again.

Frankly, I can’t think of a single band in the world more deserving of a best-of compilation than Jane’s Addiction, and I’m shocked that it took until 2006 for one to show up. I’m also shocked that it’s goddamn fantastic. The good people at Rhino, who must surely rise every morning amazed that they can do the work they do while drawing pay from their resolutely mainstream masters at Warner Brothers, have put together Up From The Catacombs: The Best of Jane’s Addiction, a seventeen-song retrospective of the band’s history that actually manages to do justice to their legacy.

I can’t believe it: everything works.

The song choices are practically bulletproof, with the highlights of both the big albums present, plus a couple choice tracks each from their debut and 2003’s “comeback” album, Strays. Wisely skipped is the fairly awful and decidedly inessential Kettle Whistle, a 1997 stopgap (Janes’ own The Spaghetti Incident?) that did more to tarnish the band’s legacy than could ever have happened if Perry Farrell, say, had suddenly turned up in Vegas doing lounge versions of “Jane Says” and “Had a Dad.”

The sequencing is inspired too. The first three songs progressively raise the ante, skipping from the clattering “Stop!” (the lead track on Ritual) to the huge drama of “Ocean Size” (the lead track on Nothing’s Shocking) to the metal attack of a live version of “Whores” (an early favorite). We then detour to the bad hangover of “Ted, Just Admit It...,” a disjointed and, I suppose, arty offering off Nothing’s Shocking that ably showcases that side of the band’s identity. After a couple more heavy rockers (including the unjustly ignored “Just Because” from Strays), the compilation veers into the contemplative almost for good.  Here is where we find the eight-minute epic of “Three Days,” the pastoral lurch of “Summertime Rolls” and the quiet devotion of “Classic Girl.” The comp ends (naturally) with the snarling “Pig’s In Zen” (which closed out Ritual) and an absolutely fantastic live version of the band’s signature “Jane Says.”

Absolutely anyone who doesn’t have any Jane’s Addiction already in their collection should run right out and pick up Up From The Catacombs. Actually, anyone who doesn’t already own them should pick up both Nothing’s Shocking and Ritual de lo Habitual, but since I can’t tell you how to spend your money, I suppose all I can do is tell you that ownership of either the best-of or the two great albums is more than just highly recommended; it is required. I’ll be checking.


Posted by Johno on 10/31/06 at 10:47 AM
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Friday, October 27, 2006

I’ll never wash this keyboard again!!

EntertainmentMusic Wonkery

Soul legend Solomon Burke’s latest album, a set of country songs redone in his inimitable style called Nashville, was released on September 26. I interviewed him by email on October 10.

What music are you listening to these days? 

I’m listening to india.arie, Christina Aguilera, Emmylou Harris and Gillian Welch.  For the guys, I love Usher, Bruce Springsteen’s latest cd, Alan Jackson, Eric Clapton.  I also am enjoying the Foo Fighters, the Raconteurs, the Wreckers and anything by Merle Haggard.

Who selected the songs for “Nashville”?

The songs were selected by [album producer] Buddy Miller, [executive producer] Shawn Amos and me.  We all listened to a ton of amazing songs - together, probably over 200 songs.  There were certain songwriters whose points of view were important to interpret, in our minds, so that helped us narrow down the list and focus… and then just trying to see what shape the various combinations of songs took that would be a respectable body of work.  It was really tough to let go of certain songs that I loved, but that’s a part of the process.

You do Springsteen’s “Ain’t Got You” in a nearly bluegrass style, there’s some nods to Billy Shirell-style strings on “Atta Way To Go,” and the rest of the album covers all the territory from honky-tonk to country blues to soul to gospel. (Yes, there’s a question in here somewhere.) The arrangements are definitely a departure from what you’ve been doing recently, and (in the good way) definitely not what I would have expected. Who was in the driver’s seat when deciding on arrangements?

Buddy Miller was very much the driver when it came to the arrangements.  But the beauty of how Buddy works is that his arrangements left me a lot of room, and he brought together such amazing musicians that when I “turned left” on a song, the entire band turned left with me.  It was a great feeling.

On the last album you covered a Hank Williams song, and this time around you cover a George Jones song. Between them, they’re two of the most iconic singers of the last 50 years; how do you go about singing a song that belongs completely to someone else, and make sure it’s not a mere tribute? How do you take the George out and put the Solomon in?

Well, first off, I love Hank Williams and George Jones and I love their bodies of work.  For me, there are a lot of songs that I would never ever try to sing, for that exact reason.  But if I can feel the song inside of me, then what I sing is a tribute to the original artist as well as the writer, but mostly it’s a tribute to the listener.  I think we all try to reach out to people and if a George Jones song, sung by Solomon Burke and Emmylou Harris is going to be the way to get a message to one person who would have otherwise missed the message, then we are all successful and the story of the song is richer for it.  Along these lines, I just want to mention that I have never experienced such graciousness from songwriters and artists as I have on this project.  Their generosity in allowing me to sing their songs freely was overwhelming and in my career, historic!

There’s a few great duets on the record, with Dolly Parton, Gillian Welch, and Patty Loveless, among others.

Thank you!

This is, if I’m told correctly, is the first time in your career when you’ve done duets. How much collaboration was there between you and your duet partners? Did you have the opportunity to sing face-to-face, to vibe off each other and work out your arrangements together?

Actually, I did a duet with Zucchero ("The Devil in Me") and with Junkie XL ("Catch Up To My Step Up") in the last few years.  Let’s go ahead and mention each lady who sang with me:  Dolly Parton, Emmylou Harris, Patty Griffin, Patty Loveless and Gillian Welch… I am a lucky, lucky man!  Each duet on this cd was as unique as the artists with whom I sang… Buddy did all of the arrangements and really had it set up so I could come in and sing without worrying.  He accommodated every artist that came through his door as a friend coming to his home, and that was the vibe of the entire session.  My experience with the duets was so personal, I treasure each day, each session, each recording experience of this project.  I received so much love and support from the ladies who “duetted” with me, as well as from the songwriters and musicians.  What I received from this project was far more that what I was able to give, and the lessons that I learned in Nashville are lessons I carry in my heart.

Do you have any plans for future collaborations? I’ve read that you’d love to work with Willie Nelson, and that you’d even be willing to work with KISS...?

fuck, I’m 66 years old.  I’m just happy to get a gig these days!  I’m still reeling from working with Buddy Miller and his wife Julie.  But once I start looking toward the future, I would love to work with Willie Nelson… Would love to work with Vince Gill and Kid Rock.  I met Jerry Lee Lewis on stage for the first time in our lives, and it felt so good… I would love to do more with the Killer.  I don’t think it’s a question of my being willing to work with KISS… It’s a question of them being willing to work with me.  I love those guys - I’m a huge fan.  My dream is to perform with Aretha Franklin.  We sang together briefly in Cleveland last year and I still get chills thinking about that night.

What made you decide to do a country album? Considering that when you started out, there wasn’t much of a difference between a country song, a soul song, and a gospel song (and didn’t you chart on the country charts a few times?), it certainly makes sense. Have you always listened to country? If so, who are your all time favorites?

My first song at Atlantic was “Just Out of Reach of My Open Arms” which was a country song.  I have always loved country music and it has always been my desire to record country.  It took me a while but I think this was meant to be at this time in my life.  When I was a little boy, it was Gene Autry and Roy Rogers.  Still is - my alarm clock wakes me up to “I’m Back in the Saddle Again” every morning.  Later on, it was Patsy Cline, Porter Wagoner, Loretta Lynn, then Dolly Parton, Tammy Wynette… and the list goes on.

You’ve made a number of gospel records over the course of your career, and preaching has been an important part of your live since you were young. Now that your career seems to have entered a new phase and you are reaching an audience who doesn’t necessarily know anything about gospel music, do you have any plans to make a gospel album in the same vein as the last three records? How about a duet with Mavis Staples?

Wow, you know, this whole thing about country music and soul music and gospel music just wears me out.  The truth is that for me, these are all separating categories that do a disservice to music.  Because if you go back and listen to my work through the years, you will see that regardless of the category, it all comes down to a message of love which is the most Godly thing there is.  I would love to sing with Mavis.  It would be an honor.  But regardless of who I sing with, the most important thing is to find a new way of reaching out to people, so if they maybe missed the message in one song, they’re going to get it in the next one.  I’m going to keep on singing and working towards that message “‘til I get it right.”

I hear you used to be famous for making fried chicken for your touring partners, or at least that’s what Peter Guralnick claims in his biography of Sam Cooke. Can we have your recipe for fried chicken?

No, but you’re invited over to try it out for yourself!


Posted by Johno on 10/27/06 at 12:52 PM
Entertainment • Music Wonkery • Permalink

Saving Soul

EntertainmentMusic Wonkery

In Dream Boogie, Peter Guralnick’s fantastic biography of soul music innovator Sam Cooke, very few people come off completely well. Cooke, for all his genius and generosity was an avid womanizer with a boundless ego. Sometime tour-mate Johnny “Guitar” Watson often slagged off touring because pimping paid better. Little Richard, well, the less said of his freaky-deaky exploits the better for us all. Better to think of him as the king of “R&B uptempo! R&B uptempo! WOOOOOOOO!” than as a tortured soul with poor impulse control and a Bible whose margins he filled with scrawled records of his sins.

One of the only figures in the entire book who seems like someone you’d trust with your house keys is soul-gospel-blues singer, “The King of Rock & Soul,” Solomon Burke. A religious man (he was preaching from the age of twelve) he (according to Guralnick) was more famous for cooking up fried chicken for his tourmates than for any epic feats of sin and dissipation.

Burke was one of the yeomen of the early soul period. He racked up a number of hits and a great deal of respect among his peers in the late 1950s and 1960s as a performer and singer of gospel-country-soul-blues raveups and confessions, but he never quite cracked the upper reaches of the pop charts. Although his career never reached the critical mass of a James Brown or a Ray Charles, he continued releasing albums throughout the ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s, and also returned to his roots as a minister. And although his popularity waned over time, his albums remained, if not inspired or inspiring, refreshingly free of self-parody or outright desperation.

A few years ago, Burke signed with the good people at Fat Possum Records, one of the keepers of the true flame of the deep blues, and released what turned out to be a comeback album, 2002’s Don’t Give Up On Me. For that project, Burke was paired with young indie rock producer Joe Henry, who (yes, just like Rick Rubin did with Johnny Cash) sat Burke down in a comfortable chair with a batch of songs by top-notch writers, and made sure that Burke’s own church organist was sitting in on the sessions to boot. The result was a landmark career revival, as good as any of Johnny Cash’s comeback records, Loretta Lynn’s comeback record, or that of any other formerly neglected rootsy legend you might care to name.

Burke’s latest album is Nashville, a collection of country songs, reintepreted in his own style.

But I need to interrupt these proceedings to talk a little about what that means, “country.” What is “country?” One answer is, “it’s what’s on the country charts,” but I don’t mostly like that answer. What’s on the charts is crap. Another answer is “anything that Hank wrote.” That’s a pretty good answer, but limiting. Another answer, according to Solomon Burke himself in an interview I did with him recently is, “[T]his whole thing about country music and soul music and gospel music just wears me out.  The truth is that for me, these are all separating categories that do a disservice to music.  Because if you go back and listen to my work through the years, you will see that regardless of the category, it all comes down to a message of love.”

That works for me.


Posted by Johno on 10/27/06 at 12:45 PM
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Thursday, September 21, 2006

Let’s Get Serious For A Moment.

Music Wonkery

I’m not sure what’s going on. Either New York slide-trumpet player and bandleader Steve Bernstein is getting better, or I’m coming around (maybe both). Bernstein, who with his band Sex Mob have been making reasonably amusing and background-filling albums for the better part of a decade, never really clicked with me. His music seemed so insubstantial, so resolutely finger-poppin’ hey-daddy ironically-detached aren’t-we-cool hipsterish, that I never gave it much of a chance.

In retrospect, I think that’s a shame. Because behind the wide-lapel cheapo porno shtick he’s peddled is a bandleader whose guiding purpose in life is to make music for people to have a good time by.

That skill of making good-time music doesn’t seem to get a whole lot of respect. All the music critics swoon over Brian Wilson’s brain-fractured experimentation, and ignore the sweet and fun stuff.  They flip out over the far-out stylings on Smile, but what about “Surf City?” “Surf City” is a perfect song, a summer song, a song about good times and scantily clad ladies cavorting on a white sand beach. No respect for “Surf City.”

All the nerds (all the world!) swoon over Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band for some silly-ass reason, and while they acknowledge that the early stuff sure is some crack songwriting, the concensus seems to be that drugs and four hundred hours of studio time somehow trump, you know, attention to extraneous cruft like melody and lyrics. A song like “A Day in the Life” demands to be appreciated, like it was hanging in some museum, but there ain’t a damn song in the world that sums up the innocence of young love more than “I Want To Hold Your Hand.”

And, okay, yes, over the years I have spent a lot of time talking up music that’s more intellectually rewarding than aesthetically pleasing, I won’t deny it. How could I deny it? Y’all got Google. And yes, I haven’t always cared for Sex Mob. I always thought they were more gimmicky and clever than actually good. And I stand by that assessment.

But recently, Steve Bernstein’s been on a hell of a tear. He recently turned up on drummer Bobby Previte’s outstanding Coalition of the Willing project, a Bitches Brew for the new millennium that cuts an atmosphere of Miles-esque darkness with generous slices of rock, thrilling improvisation, and twisty, funky soloing from Bernstein.

And now, his new project, the Millennium Territory Orchestra is a bold yet frivilous tribute to a gone and nearly forgotten era in American popular music.


Posted by Johno on 09/21/06 at 09:45 PM
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Wednesday, September 13, 2006

I can tell if someone is a completely worthless, boring idiot…

Music Wonkery

...just by their faded Dream Theater t-shirt.

Dr. David Thorpe at Something Awful unveils his Your Band Sucks Aptitude Test.

I was already hemorrhaging points by the time I had to admit former affiliation with a semi-metal act.  I knew the final result wasn’t going to be good, but never reached it thanks to this question:

27. I tend to dress:

a. In a zoot suit (-15)
b. In leather and safety pins (-5)
c. In tight jeans, Chuck Taylors, a faded t-shirt and a half gallon of hair-shellac (-10)
d. Like a normal human being (Automatic fail)

Mmmmm, the familiar kiss of failure.

I checked the answer key at the end anyway, and found I was well within the “play air guitar forever” category.  Which is really not so far off the mark. 
It was plain as the moles on Lemmy’s face that my band sucked; I knew it, but did it anyway to alleviate my stifling boredom.  But this quiz might be very helpful to those who are not well-adjusted enough to notice the level of their own suck.  By taking it, and applying the result, they might save the rest of us minutes of face-pinching displeasure the first time we hear their noise and, grimacing, turn their shit off.


Posted by GeekLethal on 09/13/06 at 09:11 AM
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Monday, September 04, 2006

Fapfapfapfapfapfapfapfapfapfapfap

Music WonkeryPerfidy Responds

The following was published at blogcritics.org as a supplement and companion piece to my review of Pere Ubu’s Why I Hate Women:

Over the past decade and a half, I have probably written a couple hundred reviews of albums by artists from Sam Cooke to Samhain. When the PR firm handling the fifteenth album by the formerly Cleveland-based new wave band Pere Ubu, Why I Hate Women, asked me for a review, I agreed to give it a shot. I’m a big fan of Pere Ubu frontman David Thomas, and his last couple projects have been right up my alley. But as I sat there staring at the blinking cursor on a blank field of black, I tried to write a straight review and found I just couldn’t do it.

What I turned out instead was (very kindly) kicked back to me by an editor, who asked in essence, “um, this is very nice… what is it?”

Well, long story short, I love music, but I’m damn sick and tired of writing music reviews.

The usual formula goes as follows:

“Band X formed in Year A and influenced Y1, Y2 and the incredibly obscure Y3, who had one single on the Kankakee, MI based Fancypants label. Their newest album, X’, is a (adjective) non/departure from their previous work. Adjective, adjective adverb quality assessment, subordinate clause hedging previous assertions. X’ is recommended to fans of A, A’, and A’’, but is not as essential as classic album X’’. “

There’s a lot you can do with that basic template, and a quick glance back through my Blogcritics archive will reveal a number of (if I do say so myself) pretty good variations on that classic theme. Unfortunately, templates are limiting. If you’ll permit me to disappear up my own bunghole for a thousand words or so…


Posted by Johno on 09/04/06 at 08:58 PM
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Friday, September 01, 2006

I’ll audition once I clear it with the lawyers

Holy Shit!Music Wonkery

I play the guitar.  By which I mean that I know some chords and can improvise a lame lead built in a pentatonic box.  That knowledge pretty much grants access to the entire AC/DC catalog which, really, ought to be enough for anyone. 

But there are legions of folks in this great land of ours who are just starting and can’t yet play by ear.  Others seek more than what Angus Young can teach us- odd, yes, but they’re out there and I’ve met them.  They want an edge, a little more knowledge, or at the very least, a more refined dabbling in the guitary arts.  Some people take private lessons which, judging by the fliers I see at any given moment on any campus or metro area, must be a booming business. 

The quickest way though to learn how to play a song yourself, and if you can’t do it by ear, is to use tablature.  Tab is a graphical shorthand that explains where your fingers go on certain strings.  Tab can help you fret a weird chord you didn’t hear in the song, or with a spiffy lead run you can’t pick out yourself.  It also has the benefit of having near instantaneous utility, as opposed to having to train to read formal sheet music.  If you can see, you can apply tablature.  Its main drawback though is that tab cannot help you if you don’t already know how the song is supposed to sound. 

As with every other perversion, the internets are full of tablature sites.  Typically, more skilled players will post their shorthand interpretations of popular songs for novices.  They are free, and understood to be a sort of fraternal public service.  Yours truly, not 2 weeks ago, consulted a site because I knew the tuning of a song was all fucky, and didn’t get it.  In about 10 seconds I was able to find the song, see the layout, go “Oh, THAT’s how...”, and presto-change-o, could play the song.

But now the lawyers got wind of it, so it’s all fucked up for everybody.

The site I used for tab, OLGA, has been down for awhile.  They’ve now posted links to the nastygrams they got from the law firm representing the National Music Publishers Association and the Music Publishers Association of the United States that accuse OLGA, and several similar sites, of copyright infringement and ordered them to stop operating.  Their argument is that because music writers, transcribers, and related fields have to go through the legal hassle of following copyright law when they do their business, the result of which is selling songbooks and such to musicians, offering what is ostensibly the same service for free (yet still generating an income with blogads and such) is illegal.

So dig, I can get- marginally- the infringement argument.  That’s the law, the publishers feel threatened, and seek remedy through legal action.  As far as a reasonably well-adjusted society’s legal mechanism working, I get it.  But the MPA said a little too much with this remark:

We are doing this to protect the interests of the creators and publishers of music so that, the profession of songwriting remains viable and that new and exciting music will be continued to be created and enjoyed for generations to come.

So- just so I’m clear- the Music Publisher’s Association’s position is that, if the broader population know how to play older, previously released music, musicians will no longer care to produce new work? 

I’m pretty sure that wide popularity has not yet worked AGAINST a musician.  And it’s odd that a dilettante has to explain this to the MPA, but here you go: musicians are artists.  Artists create because if they don’t, they go mental.  Admittedly sometimes they are mental beforehand.  But regardless of their personal sanity timeline, artists make art because they have to, not for the friggin pay; are you kidding?!  As for the income, I am highly skeptical of the claim that some schmoe running a tab site is winning the big money and fabulous prizes.  The whole point is to share information to enjoy the music, not to play musical capitalist.  It’s not like Russell Simmons made his gajillions on tablature.

And thinking about it, are they going to file cease and desist orders on every cover band in the Union?  Because not only do they play copyrighted material, they profit from it too.  Sure some get paid in cocaine, but it is, strictly speaking, compensation.  And as much as I would love to see crummy cover bands wither and fail, I’d rather it done through people telling them they suck by not paying to see them, than by playing lawyer-ball.  Although, to be fair, they may have tried serving them with court papers, but often those folks have no fixed address and it’s tough to deliver to “the van with all the bondo on it in the field behind the old fire station.”

But let’s test the waters here, and see how music publishers feel about this.  I will reveal the most secretest secrety secret of rock and roll, right here and now.  I am gambling that this revelation will not cause popular music in general, and rock n roll in particular, to screech to a jarring and disastrous halt.  I am willing to gamble that, contrary to the MPA’s weird assertion, its transcribers will continue to be able “to feed their families”.  It is nothing less than the Key to Rock.  It is the entry path to Chuck Berry; through Crosby, Stills, Nash and (sometimes) Young; past KISS; on to the Ramones, Pearl Jam, and the nu-metal flavor of the month.

I stand at the cliffside now, Prometheus-like, and hereby give the gift of rock and roll fire to the yearning multitudes:

A-C-E-A

Use it wisely, my children. 

Now let’s see if they send their legal vultures to peck at my innards for all eternity.


Posted by GeekLethal on 09/01/06 at 01:23 PM
Holy Shit! • Music Wonkery • Permalink

Wednesday, August 09, 2006

In the topsy-turvy world of heavy rock, having a good solid historian in your hand is often useful

Music Wonkery

In the continual search for newer, better, and more satisfying employment- more satisfying than, say, removing the sharp stick lodged 3” into your left quadricep with a long, satisfied sigh- I came across this opening:

Vice President of Education and Public Programs
The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum is currently considering applicants for the position of Vice President of Education and Public Programs. The Vice President of Education and Public Programs reports to the President and CEO and is responsible for establishing and directing all educational activities and programs at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum

A suit at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame!  At first blush it seemed so wrong- but after a few seconds of thought, it makes total sense.  Most rock musicians can’t manage their own personal affairs; dare we trust them with the cultural heritage that the form has become?  Suits run their money and their careers; might as well run their legacy, too.  The ad goes on:

Creates educational programs and materials relating to the unique content of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum, focusing both on the permanent collection and temporary exhibits.  Develops curriculum and learning materials to teach the widest possible audience, from toddlers to adults, about rock and roll culture and its social and historical significance.

Not only just another suit, then- a nerd, too!  What an improbably cool position for a museum-trained historian or, failing that, a record-store clerk; often the same thing, I can attest.  And is there any other person more insufferably arrogant about music than humanities majors?  If we were comparing fingerprints here, we’d be talking about a 9-point match.  Designing programs, displays, and other instructional media at the Hall of Fame sure beats the hell out of doing public history work in a musuem no one goes to, designing displays no one gives a shit about like “Whither Butter?”; or “The Evolution of the Overall” (in Kansas, “The Creation of the Overall"); and certainly better than that musty archive your friend who majored in history worked in, the one where he contracted that nasty eye socket infection.

So say you’re the new guy, just hired for this position.  What would be some programs or exhibits you might pitch?

My first thought?  “It Doesn’t Mean That Much To Me To Mean That Much To You”, a whole series about rock ‘n roll suicide.  You get everyone who’s offed himself, plus the David Bowie and Neil Young tie-ins for the soundtrack.  Logo would be a Strat with a noose around it, or a gun to its head(stock), and would appear on all associated merch.  Pretty good, huh?  And that was just off the top of my head!

What would you do?


Posted by GeekLethal on 08/09/06 at 01:46 PM
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