Missed the Boat: Jimi Hendrix

I hereby propose a new category for Splat Macumba titled, Missed the Boat. Here’s where we will discuss artists and bands we should love but just don’t. Friends love them. Critics love them. Hell, even your Mama loves them. But you don’t.

And you don’t know why. My first entry – St. Jimi Hendrix.

There’s absolutely no reason I shouldn’t like Jimi. He’s one of the most innovative, creative, and best musicians ever to walk the Earth. His talent isn’t debatable. On top of that, he was pretty goddamned cool. He was flashy but never pretentious. A showman but never over the top. Everything he did turned to gold.

He loved Bob Dylan and from what I understand, carried a notebook full of Dylan lyrics around with him at all times. Guess what? I love Bob Dylan as well.

But alas, I don’t love Jimi.

Let me say this, though. Everytime I see video of him performing, I’m in awe. I can’t look away. Everything he does is amazing and he sounds amazing. It’s when I try to just listen to his records that I have trouble. I need that visual component. I just get bored.

That’s not to say I don’t like particular songs. “Bold as Love” sounds great. “If Six was Nine” or whatever it’s called is badass. “Crosstown Traffic” is pretty awesome.

I guess it’s just that I don’t want to go back continuously and rediscover his stuff. I just don’t love him like 99% of the world does.

I missed the boat. Please comment and help me (perhaps) see the light.

“Loving Cup” The Rolling Stones (1972)

Exile on Main St. (along with the rest of the Stones ’68-’72 run) has been worshipped for so long that it’s really easy to overlook how great many of each album’s individual songs were. Much has been debated over Exile’s sound quality. Its murk was criticized upon it’s release as difficult to listen to and overly druggy. But over the years, it seemed to find favor for it’s darn near flawless sequencing and complete lack of klunkers. The thing doesn’t really have any low points.

 

As the tender centerpiece amidst the depravity and darkness of Exile, “Loving Cup” sets itself apart so quickly with that bright, beautiful opening piano flourish. Then immediately, Mick & Keith’s version of high & lonesome harmonies on the opening verse let you know early on that this ain’t gonna start like your typical “Stones tune.” No bravado. No sleaze. Give Keith credit for these. I can’t remember many Stones songs that feature Keith singing harmony throughout. He sounds great on this.

 

I’m the man on the mountain, come on up.
I’m the plowman in the valley with a face full of mud.
Yes, I’m fumbling and I know my car don’t start.
Yes, I’m stumbling and I know I play a bad guitar.

 

I’m the man who walks the hillside in the sweet summer sun.
I’m the man that brings you roses when you ain’t got none.

 

So yeah, it’s still a request for love of some kind but not in way they’re known for. “Loving Cup” politely lays it down like this – “I’m not the smoothest or cleanest dude in the world but I think you’re pretty great. We should hang out and talk and smooch a whole bunch.”

 

He doesn’t need the whole bottle, just “a little drink.”

 

So while not at their most profound, it’s tough to find Stones tunes from this era as honest and well…nice.

 

Things pick up at about 0:48 with Charlie Watts’ tom slaps emphasizing the “Gimme little drink” line. Watts’ really doesn’t want to push things too much as his long, slow, fills that complete the rest of the chorus seem to weigh things down in the best possible way. It’s like he’s willing the band to pull back – keeping them funky because when not completely used to it.

 

His playing reminds me of The Band’s Levon Helm, always in charge of the song but not really letting on. The playing just keeps the band in line.

 

Another key instrument for me is Nicky Hopkins’ piano. Hopkins was a session vet by 1972 (The Kinks “Session Man” was written for and about him!) and his playing is the reason this song is a classic. He alternates between timekeeper and lead instrument so easily that it’s amazing he wasn’t a regular member of the band.

 

2:09-2:30 is a great example of this transition.

 

This brings me to the final key component – the horns. Bobby Keys on trumpet and Jim Price on trumpet & trombone. They pop in at about the 2:00 mark with a gorgeous Stax- inspired bed for the bridge. It’s just a beautifully arranged little background bit that adds a majestic touch, really changing the song from that point forward.

 

Then at 3:22 we get our first look at the filth the Stones loved as they punctuate the coda with maybe the greasiest horn fills in rock & roll (superlative alert!). They drag each bar into the next unwillingly, not turning back for anything. It’s like the main character – the plowman in the valley – had a friend that grabbed him while he was desparately trying to court this girl and said, “You’re coming out drinking with us. This charade is over.”

 

 

What’s amazing to me is that this song starts out so pretty and sweet and 4 minutes later it’s this giant dirtball of funk barreling through to the album’s second half.

 

D’aaah the Stones.

The Shuffle Album, Vol. 2

I had this shuffle going while I was driving the kids to school and liked it so much I thought I’d write my own version of Jim’s Shuffle Album concept. Here goes.

1. “Androgynous” —Replacements, Let It Be (1984)
I don’t think the ‘Mats hold up as well as other indie rock bands from this era, which I know is sacrilegious. But this gem holds up just fine. Love the sparse, ramshackle arrangement and the goofy ending.

2. “Queens of Noise” —The Runaways, Queens of Noise (1977)
I’m a newcomer to the Runaways, but what’s not to like? I love the slapback drums, and the lazy feel of this tune. Another plus is the lyric, “We’re the queens of noise, come and get it boys.” On the con side, what’s up with the Styx-like synthesizer? Also, the harmonies at the end don’t work for me.

3. “King Kong” —Half Japanese, Greatest Hits (1995)
First of all, I love that Half Japanese has a greatest hits album. It’s a bit much to sit through in one listen but perfect for an iPod shuffle. This track is a priceless cover of Daniel Johnston’s 1983 classic. And while I love his version, this one’s better IMHO, thanks to the atonal guitar work. Who better to cover Daniel Johnston other than Half Japanese? My son was digging this track, mostly because it was about King Kong, but it goes to show you that kids can handle “difficult” music. I love how the song mostly recounts the movie until suddenly it starts talking about how Willis O’Brien (the special effects artist of the original movie) died.

4. “Let Down” —Radiohead, OK Computer (1997)
Not much needs to be said about this great tune, other than it’s the one track on OK Computer that sounds like it could have been on The Bends. OK, I’ll also add that I love the off-kilter guitar work at the beginning.

5. “Les Bon Bons Des Raisons” —Stereolab, Sound-Dust (2001)
Sound-Dust is my favorite Stereolab album and this is that album’s glorious closing track. Too much great stuff happening to fully comment, but a few highlights are: 1. The moment when you first hear Mary Hansen’s backing vocals: It’s so perfect. Brings a smile to my face every time. 2. The curious mix of English and French. 3. The amazing transition at 2:29 when it goes back to the main theme but you still have the keyboard playing at a different tempo and in a different key. 4. The “Bon Bon” part at the end, which brings a nice closure to the album.

6. “I Killed the Cuckoo” —The Geraldine Fibbers, Butch (1997)
As I mentioned during the Stereolab song, Sound-Dust is my favorite album by them, which is definitely not the album of choice by the critics. This is another example of that. All the critics love the Fibber’s previous album Lost Somewhere Between Earth and My Home, but Butch is way more interesting in my opinion. I think we need a new category for Splat Macumba called “Critics Schmitics!” Having said that, this is one of my least favorite songs on the album, although I do love the percussive nature of the bass and guitars. My son and his friend were loving the fact this woman is screaming “I hate you!”

7. “Downs” —Big Star, Third/Sister Lovers, (1992)
If I remember the liner notes to this album correctly, the producer was convinced that Alex Chilton was trying to ruin his career when he turned “Downs,” which apparently was a pop gem, into this shambling mess. It’s hard to believe this could have been anything other than a shambling mess. And what a nice mess it is.

8. “Poptones” —Public Image Ltd., Metal Box (1979)
I delve into PiL’s music more in my entry about “Memories,” so I’ll just say that this song has probably my favorite bass line of any song ever. My son’s friend though John Lydon sounded like Darth Vader. Oh wait, I dig want to mention that I do love the clipped beginning of this song and the sound of someone snorting coke.

9. “Maybe the Last Time” —James Brown, Star Time (1991)
I love the weird, out-of tune guitar chord that comes blinging in between every sixth and seventh beat. In the car with the windows down, all you can really hear is the vocals, drums, and that guitar. And frankly, that’s all you need.

10. “Twenty-Four Hour Blues” —Bobby “Blue” Bland, Dreamer (1974)
Listening to this album, I kind of wish Bobby Bland had worked with Al Green’s producer, Willie Mitchell. He’s such a great singer (although his voice is past its prime at this point) and the production on this album just doesn’t work. He has a couple nice moments, but this is just kind of a bland song. Check out I Pity the Fool: The Duke Recordings, Vol. 1 for some great blues vocals.

11. “Shaving Cream” —Fabulous Five, Trojan Box Set: X-Rated Reggae, (2002)
I can’t say enough great things about these Trojan box sets. Having said that, this is one of the few terrible tracks from that glorious period in Jamaican music. I mean, who needs a reggae version of the stupid Dr. Demento track? Second, it cracks me up that this is on the X-Rate box set, since the whole point of the song is that they don’t curse. It’s just uninspired, which is rare for the Trojan records of this time.

12. “Revolution” —Mother Earth, Nuggets: Love is the Song We Sing, (2007)
I love all the Nuggets box sets, especially for shuffles. I like the way the song shifts between 5/4 and 6/8 time. Aside from that, it’s a little lifeless.

Well, this shuffle started out really strong and kind of petered out at the end. But that’s OK. Favorite track: Toss up between “King Kong” and “Queens of Noise.”

A Great Band You’ve Never Heard of: Mazarin

In thinking about all the great bands I’m going to talk about in this “Great Bands You’ve Never Heard of” category, I was lamenting how many of them have come and gone. I guess that’s what happens when no one has ever heard of a band. I thought Mazarin was one of those bands who had ceased to be, but just as I started to write this post, I was surprised to find on their website an announcement that Quentin Stoltzfus was reforming the band under a new name. Thank goodness.

Picking Mazarin as my first subject for this category was easy. I remember reading a review in the Philadelphia City Paper describing this band as My Bloody Valentine with Byrdsesque harmonies and I think I may have exclaimed, “this could be the greatest band of all time.” I ran to the store and grabbed a copy of their then-new release, “Watch it Happen.” (This is back in 1999.) And as soon as I got home and blasted the first track, “Chasing the Girl,” a blissful smile broke out on my face. The song did indeed have all the elements I love most in music: noisy guitars, sweet harmonies, catchy melodies, and sad lyrics.

Now that MBV-Byrds comparison doesn’t really hold up for the rest of the album, except maybe for the other perfect track, “Wheats.” But that’s OK, because the rest of the album, while a little uneven, thanks to more than a few instrumental tracks, has been a source of great joy to me over the years.

Mazarin has two other albums that are equally wonderful, although each time I had to go through the “this doesn’t sound like the last album” phase. Now, they all just sound like gorgeous Mazarin albums and I can’t wait for the new one.

I could describe the music to you, but thanks to the old interweb, you can hear it for yourself. iTunes has “Watch it Happen” (a real coup, since the CD is out of print) and the latest one, “We’re Already There.” You can hear one song from that album here on YouTube, which I guess was used in a Puma commercial. Their second album, A Tall-Tale Storyline, is available for listen on Amazon.

The Shuffle Album, Vol. 1

Since the dawn of the iPod era, the concept of shuffling has taken on a whole new life.

 

Pre-iPod, the shuffle function was relegated to a corner of your CD player’s dashboard and only used to either resequence a 10 or 12 song album or shuffle between discs in a changer. In other words, for music geeks only. Why resequence Revolver? Why not!?

 

These days, having the ability to shuffle through your entire record collection is quite addictive. Press one button and go on a journey from Wilco to the Wiggles. From Miles to Mastodon. From Pavement to Prince. Make completely random mixes on the fly.

 

There’s talk that the Shuffle Generation is killing “the album concept.” That music is meant to be listened to as a collection of songs, in one piece of art. Ok – that’s great, too. But why not do both? Sometimes I don’t want all of Odessey & Oracle. I just want “This Will Be Our Year.”

 

So as a regular column here at Splat Macumba, I’m hitting shuffle, playing 12 songs (out of 12,000+) and writing about them. Whatever strikes me about the collection. I’m looking to find out how these small sets can take on minds of their own. Some will suck. Some will be great. I guarantee nothing.

 

This Week: Odds & Clods – Frank, Paul & Oscar

 

1. “This Is All I Ask” – Frank Sinatra, September of My Years (1965)

Ahhh Frank. I haven’t paid as much attention to this album as I have some of his earlier Capitol Records stuff so hearing it was striking. Plaintive and melodramatic at the same time. And great.

 

2.      “Heavenly” – Harry Connick, Jr., We Are in Love (1990)

This wasn’t planned. I swear. See – that’s the magic of shuffling. My iPod thought, “Hmmm…what would go nice after Frank? How about a touch of one of his biggest fans? Now where is that Harry record…” Not his best work, but some pretty impressive a capella harmony singing.

 

3.      “Even Here We Are” – Paul Westerberg, 14 Songs (1993)

I had no idea what this was when it came on. Like a late period Kinks ballad or one of Big Star’s 90 second throwaways I couldn’t place. It’s beautiful and spare and honest. Like he woke up to his guitar and 4 track next to his bed after a long night and recorded it before he had coffee. The find of the shuffle.

 

4.      “Hello Little Girl” – The Beatles, Anthology (1995)

It doesn’t get much earlier in their career than this. Another short one that kind of comes and goes without much to say. Not quite up to the best of their early work but serviceable. It’s cool listening to John’s singing before he became John Lennon. He was still trying to find his voice, while Paul sounded the same in 1963 as he did in 1970.

 

5.      “I Bet You Look Good on the Dancefloor” – Arctic Monkeys, Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not (2005)

I like this band. They were destined to fail with all the hype but their smarts and writing really won me over. The “pangpapapango” or whatever he’s saying before the chorus kicks in is a cool device. A loud blast of energy right after a handful of quieter jamz.

 

6.      “Just the Way You Are” – Billy Joel & Oscar the Grouch, Songs From the Street (2003)

I love the little surprises you get when you shuffle, especially when you have kids. Classic call & response between Billy Joel and Oscar where Billy basically sings his hit straight and Oscar reacts to the cheesier moments. Example:

 

Billy: “…you’ve done it pretty well so faaar.”

Oscar: “Ugh! Compliments! This is getting pretty sticky!”

 

7.      “Introduction” – The Kinks, Lola Versus Powerman & the Money-Go-Round (1970)

One of the crappy things about shuffling – hearing the first song on an album you love and not getting to hear the rest of the album. 41 seconds of the Kinks is all I get this time.

 

8.      “Wind Chimes” – Brian Wilson, Smile (2004)

One of the key tracks from Brian’s late career defining re-recording of his white whale, Smile. Very different from the Boys’ Smiley Smile version. I love the sexy swing and horns in the latter half. Like the last track though, this is difficult to hear out of context. I want the whole record.

 

9.      “Lazy Old Sun” – The Kinks, Something Else (1967)

Yes! More Kinks! Love it when shuffle does this with a great artist. One of the weirdest songs in the Kinks’ catalog. The chord progression and melody are just crazy. And what the hell is that groaning sound? Why does that trumpet come out of nowhere? Love the bridge at 1:08. As close as they ever got to hippie music.

 

10.  “Sunshine & Clouds (And Everything Proud)” – Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, S/T (2005)

A quick palette cleanser of toy piano and various things on Clap Your Hands’ debut album. Works the same way here. Nothing substantial. Just going from one place to the next.

 

11.  “Your Mind And We Belong Together (Tracking Session)” – Love, Forever Changes (1967)

8:16 of Arthur Lee running a recording session like a stoned tyrant. He stops the band constantly for feel and performance issues. Then gets on the guitarist – “Bryan – what happened to your guitar sound, man?!” It’s fascinating to hear them build the song, but not something I really need to hear all the time.

 

12. “WinD ouT (With Friends)” – R.E.M., Reckoning (1984)

Wow – another bonus track. A tack-on to the end of one of my favorite R.E.M. albums although this one isn’t one of their finest moments. Lots of yelped “Wiiaand aaaaooutt”s and Bill Berry’s deceptively busy drumming. Not much more to say.

 

Final Thoughts:

As a first shuffle album, this one was a hodge-podge. Not much connectivity between the tracks. Lots of throwaway tracks and interludes. Still – pulling that Westerberg song from the depths of my collection was the highlight.

“Memories” — Public Image Ltd. (1979)

The more I listen to PiL’s awesome Metal Box album the more I wonder where the hell these sounds came from. You can recognize certain elements from other music. It has rock instruments, dub-inspired bass lines, Krautrock- and disco-inspired grooves, but the music is definitely none of the above. I could write volumes about Keith Levene’s guitar, Jah Wobble’s bass lines, and John Lydon’s voice. But for this essay I’m going to focus on production. And specifically the production of one song. To be even more specific: What the hell is going on in “Memories” at 1:32?

This could be the only song in recorded history where the only thing that separates the “verse” from the “chorus” is a change in production.

The song starts oddly enough with a synth-sounding repeating bass line loping around an almost-disco-like drum. The kick and snare drums don’t sound disco-y but the high hat is heavily affected (I couldn’t tell you what sound-effect they’re using) and accenting the upbeat. Then come in the guitars. You can barely make out the rhythm guitar which just blings along behind the lead, which is very trebly and meanders about in some exotic middle-eastern mode. Let’s call it Phrygian for shits and giggles. Then John comes in singing about whatever he’s singing about–his voice very nasal and ghostly. In fact, you hear two Johns.

Then at 1:32 everything changes. And yet nothing changes. Everybody is still playing the exact same thing. Only the mix changes. There’s a little drum fill and then BAM! The bass starts booming–almost as though you haven’t heard it the whole song. The rhythm guitar comes way up front and now it’s the lead that you can barely hear. The drums sound basically the same except the high hat is less weird sounding (although I can detect a very slow phlange on it). John’s voice, too, is different. More upfront a bass-y. Overall the mix is better. Fuller.

And yet, when it goes back to the original mix, it doesn’t sound weak. You imagine that you’d miss the bass but you don’t. It just sounds like you’re going back to the verse, even though melodically and harmonically the music is the same.

A more interesting moment is at 2:50 when the bass and rhythm guitar drop out just as the mix changes. So the two most prominent instruments that change for the second mix aren’t even heard as the mix changes… it’s just the drums and John’s voice (with the lead way off in the background somewhere)… and yet you clearly hear that the whole mix has changed.

This song has puzzled and fascinated me for years. Musically this song is nowhere near as interesting as Poptones or Swan Lake, but the mix totally makes it one of the highlights of the album. And yet I’ve come across only one mention of this aspect of the song, which is from a contemporary review by Lester Bangs.

A few years ago when my band was mixing an album, we asked our engineer (the first and last time we ever hired an outsider to engineer our album) to do this to one of our songs. The engineer didn’t have the patience to give it the full PiL treatment, so he only really boosted the bass for the “chorus,” but it worked pretty well. At least until it went back to the verse and you can’t help but feel, “hey! Where’s the bass?”

Here’s an interesting video of PiL performing Memories live (although it looks like this is from the late 80s, so it’s a different band). To get around the fact that they can’t change the mix live, they just drop out everything except the drums, which works pretty well, I must say.

Also worth watching: A contemptuous interview with Tom Snyder from 1980.

“Five O’Clock World” the Vogues (1965)

Is there another song that is so melancholy and joyous at the same time?

There’s something special about oldies. And by “oldies” I mean the popular songs from the 50s and 60s that are played on oldies radio. I’m not nostalgic for them–since I was born five years after this single and I don’t think I heard this song until I was in college–but the best oldies seem to capture a sense of time and place and have a sound that, for better or worse, doesn’t exist in later records. They have a sweet innocence to them. The happy songs are joyous and the sad songs aren’t really sad. They just are slower and slightly less joyous. These songs have none of the angst or anger that would take over much of popular music later on (again, for better or worse). And while I do love 60s music, I’m not especially a fan of oldies per se, but some of my favorite songs of all time are oldies. I wouldn’t list this song as “one of my favorites,” but I have been enamored of it lately. And every time I hear it I immediately want to hear it again.

The song begins rather inauspiciously with an odd guitar riff that isn’t catchy and almost sounds dissonant against what soon follows. Then we hear a quick drum burst and a bellowing bass line that slowly switches between E and D. I can’t tell for sure but it sounds like there are voices joining the bass. Then of course comes the iconic shouts of “Hey!” Well, they’re not shouts exactly. More like doo-wop backing vocals, except they’re too short to be doo-wop vocals. And I on’t think they say “Hey!” as much as they say “Hep!” Already, thanks to that great oldies reverb, the record creates a gorgeous sense of space. (I just now noticed there are finger snaps.) The beat isn’t quite like any other song. At least for the verses. It has a kind of herky-jerky quality that is surprisingly danceable.

Aside from some of the more memorable and famous lines, I’d never paid much attention to the lyrics before today. I wouldn’t say they lyrics are particularly good. With Beatles songs, you remember the words after one or two listens. This one isn’t that catchy. And the lyrics for the chorus are particularly awkward and they change in ways you don’t expect. Having said that, the message is timeless and universal. And in the second verse the line “Livin’ on money that I ain’t made yet,” seems especially current.

Of course I haven’t even spoken about the most memorable and unique aspect of this song–the yodeling in the chorus. I don’t know who’s brilliant idea that was, but without the yodeling this would just be another obscure oldie. But the yodeling adds that perfect and weird touch that makes this a classic, not unlike the “Hoo hoos” in “Sympathy for the Devil.”

Other random touches that make this one a keeper: the “yeah yeah yeahs” that begin each chorus, the twinkling piano parts that help with the transition from the chorus back to the verse, and–my favorite part after the yodeling–the background singer who appears in the second verse saying “Yeah yeah!” and who comes back in the third saying “It slips away…” It’s so great that I always pay more attention to him than the lead singer.

One other random note: This song has no bridge. Not that you miss it, although at 2:04 the song is almost unbearably short. (Might be worth exploring other pop songs with no bridges.)

I never watched the Drew Carey Show, but this was used as the theme song for a few seasons, which is kind of a shame. While I admire their taste and it does seem to fit thematically, somehow it changes the song for me. Makes it seem less like “my” song.

Unfortunately that was the only link I could find that had the original version.

Scott