The Bevis Frond Map Guide

The Secret Museum

By Jim Webb

Nick Saloman is one of the most underappreciated guitarists/songwriters of our generation. Notice I didn’t say singers, even though he does have a unique voice; that is more of an acquired taste. He is “Bevis Frond”, even though other mates of his (Adrian Shaw, Martin Crowley to name two) have periodically contributed to the musical journey. Working out of his bedroom led to a certain lo-fi ambiance on his earlier recordings, with the initial LP titled “Miasma” appearing in 1986. While there is a wealth of diverse styles that Nick is comfortable writing in, it is important to know what recordings might be most compatible with your tastes. Why waste time trying the song- oriented releases, if what you really wanted was the psychedelic inspired guitar freakouts. I will not say “they’re all great”, that’s a fanatic’s phrase that shows he’s been so captured by a musician’s spell that he’s now lost in the forest of infatuation. The Bevis Frond just recently ended a seven-year hiatus with the release in 2011 of “Leaving London.” I think it’s time to navigate the musical topography that he has travelled these last twenty-five years, and point out a few significant sites along the way.

The Lo-Fi / Psych - Guitar Blow Outs:
Miasma / Inner Marshland / Triptych / Acid Jam / Auntie Winnie/Through the Looking Glass

While there is any number of great shorter “songs” on any of the aforementioned releases, they are dominated by piercing lead guitar work, longer instrumental passages, and watery keyboard/organ fills. Psychedelic might mean Grateful Dead/Quicksilver Messenger Service to some, to Nick it is a hyperextension of what Jimi Hendrix was doing. He layers plenty of raw guitars that explode out of the studio speakers, no time limit as to when the lava will stop flowing off his fret board. The problem with trying to classify his output is that you have such ultra-Pop gems like “Lights Are Changing” (Triptych) on the same cd with the 19:47 long “Tangerine Infringement Beak”. Let’s not split hairs- Saloman will always be a stylistically divergent cat. Remember that a maps job is to get you close to where you want to be.

The Bard of Walthamstowe:
Any Gas Faster / New River Head / Son of Walter / North Circular

I do not mean in any way, shape or form that these are Sweet Baby James, Jackson Browne confessional diary-type songs that can be used as sleep aids. Nick has always taken the time to write interesting lyrics with a personal slant, he still has a lot of muscular guitar riffs flying around on these songs; they just seemed to get compacted into a shorter structure. The two cd North Circular is the high water mark to these ears, with New River Head not far behind. Some of these riffs during this period wouldn’t have sounded out of place on a Dinosaur Jr. cd for an American reference, but Saloman’s words (Stars Burn Out) and vocal delivery take him way above other talented three chord masters. The song “New River Head” shows just how far Nick has come, lyrically and melodically.

Riff City:
Gathering of Fronds / Superseeder / London Stone / Scorched Earth

Ok, Scorched Earth is a side project from 2008, but “Woman Gone Bad” has such a heavy slamming riff that Ron Asheton shat his pants when he first heard it (I’m assuming). London Stone features the slashing “Well Out of It”, that riff you could loop into a thirty minute remix and I wouldn’t get tired of it. “Gathering” compiles a lot of rarities onto a full-length cd, featuring a guest appearance by guitarist, and Nick’s boyhood friend, Bari Watts. If you like the heavy guitar aspect of Bevis Frond, then Bari’s band The Outskirts of Infinity should also be checked out.


Other Stuff:
It Just Is / Vavona Burr / Valedictory Songs / What Did for the Dinosaurs

I wouldn’t call anything from The Bevis Frond “bad” but there are a few that didn’t do much for me. His various styles from these cds all had better songs on other releases, and a little bit of the old Bevis energy seems to have dropped a notch. All of them still have a few nuggets (High on a Downer from Valedictory), but not surprisingly Nick took a brief break from his Bevis activities from 2004 to 2011. The most recent cd titled “Leaving London” shows that Nick Saloman remains as creative as ever, and doesn’t intend to get bogged down in following other people’s ideas of style and order in his music. You can expect, and get, anything from a folk inspired bash to a full-blown guitar rave up. Let’s hope we get another twenty-five years of Nick Saloman’s music, God bless The Bevis Frond and all who sail with her.

The Secret Museum: The Hare Krishnas, The Misunderstood, & Me

I have had a long standing interest in the Hare Krishna movement since the first time I bumped into them outside of the Spectrum arena in Philadelphia. They were distributing their magazines and selling incense on a hot summer day in July of 1975 before the rock band Yes played later that night. Through the years I've read a lot of their books and visited the Radha - Krishna Temple in West Philly a number of times, I haven't tired in keeping track of what has happened to "them" these last 35 plus years. There is something fascinating to me about this large group of American devotees that have renounced meat eating, alcohol, gambling, and sex ( other than sex for procreation), and also accepted a 16th century Bengali holy man from India, Caitanya Mahaprabhu, as the incarnation / avatar of God (Krishna). Krishna appeared as Caitanya to bring the singing and chanting of the Lord's holy name to the masses during these harsh godless times known as Kali - yuga (which we are still in). Hare Krishna Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna Hare Hare. Hare Rama Hare Rama, Rama Rama Hare Hare.

Fast forward to December 28, 2011 and I've been reading up on all of the recent ISKCON ( International Society for Krishna Consciousness) related news. Two or three times a year I'll check out the numerous web / blog sites and try and get a feel for the current issues that they are dealing with.The whole modern Hare Krishna movement was begun single handily by a 69 year old Indian reunciate preacher In a small Second Ave. N.Y.C. storefront in 1966. It slowly splintered apart almost from the day the founder of ISKCON, A.C.Bhaktivedanta Prabhupada, died in November of 1977. Before passing away he named eleven senior devotees to be in charge, but all too quickly there were various power struggles and conflicts that still haven't been totally resolved as of today. The late 1970's, and into the 1980's sadly had numerous cases of young children being sexually molested in the movement's school system, and many of the original eleven handpicked disciples that formed the Governing Body Commission (GBC) had either quit (" fell down" ), died, or been forced to resign over various sex, drugs, and money issues. ISKCON today is very vibrant in its native India, and has had varying degrees of success in finding new devotees in Eastern Europe, Africa and Asia. The U.S. temples have gradually changed from a proselytizing emphasis based on distributing Prabhupad's books, to one of retrenchment that now largely caters to the local Indian communities that are their major support group. The counter - culture in 1966 was ready to throw off all of the "Establishments" views including having a career focused life, with traditional Christian values and rituals. More than a few people decided to tune in, turn on, and drop out. But it wasn't all drugs that they were turning on to.

I googled Santa Fe, New Mexico ( where I now live) for things related to Hare Krishna and got a wide assortment of choices to investigate. I wasn't surprised at all to see that in 1968 Santa Fe had one of the first ISKCON temples opened in the U.S.A. on Water Street, not far from the historic downtown plaza. New Mexico has been home to many religious denominations, hippie communes, art communes, writer groups and just about every alternative life style choice that North America has to offer. Currently the Vedic Cultural Center is one of the few Hindu related organizations active in nearby Pecos, NM and is led by Hamsavatar Das (Howard Beckman), and his wife. He was a disciple of Prabhupad in the 1970's/80's and has commented through the years on all of the changes ISKCON has gone through, and is also an esteemed Vedic astrology and gem specialist. His website led me back to google where I found another Krishna devotee named Hrisikesh (Richard Shaw Brown)who also currently specializes in gems, but has an interesting footnote in his personal biography. Richard Shaw Brown was the lead singer in a legendary California psychedelic rock band from 1966 named The Misunderstood.

The Misunderstood have a great web page at www.themisunderstood.com/band, and you should definitely check that out, loads of audio clips and info there to bone up on. I immediately sent that weblink to my friend and Secret Museum founder Mike Mooney, knowing that he would appreciate all things related to psychedelic/garage bands circa 1966. After emailing him, I suddenly had the feeling he might had heard of them, even though they were a very obscure group with little recognition. Mike is currently the lead singer/guitarist in the New Mexico garage rock band Manby's Head with Peter Greenberg. I then decided to google - The Misunderstood,Manby's Head, and was surprised to find on the 6th entry on the page a link to LOFTHOLDINGSWOOD, MY OWN BLOG SITE WITH MR. MOONEY!! Mike had indeed mentioned The Misunderstood in a piece he had written a year before on guitarist Randy Holden.

So what does this all mean? I guess anyone can play an Internet version of six degrees of Kevin Bacon, but I didn't think my googling of Hare Krishna would lead so quickly back to my own blog site! Maybe it means Mike is destined to join up with Richard Shaw Brown and create some intense music with him in 2012 ( I just hope we get more Greenberg / Mooney music in the new year). The Mayans were right, we have to expect a lot of big changes this coming year, and Hamsavatar Das agrees wholeheartedly with massive changes due based on where the planets are aligned right now. I was thinking of having Hamsavatar Das work up a full astrological reading on me, the real advanced type where they need not only your exact date and time of birth, but your parents exact date and time of birth as well. It's not a bad deal, for $175.00 I'll know what to personally expect in 2012. Instead, maybe one of these days I'll finally realize that all you have to do is chant Hare Krishna, ... and be happy.


Happy New Year,
Jim Webb

Update

The Horse Fly does not appear to be returning to print. We haven't shopped the column elsewhere. Jim should be filling space here soon.
-mm

The Soul of Peter Greenberg

The Secret Museum
by Jim Webb

It’s not often that you meet a solar company executive who is also one of the most underrated guitarists in America. Many in the Taos Valley can now make that claim since Peter Greenberg and his wife Milissa moved to Arroyo Seco in 2008. Music aficionados of the local rock scene have seen him playing with Manby’s Head in a garage rock style, and a recent show at the KTAO Center had Peter on stage with his old Rock n’ Soul group Barrence Whitfield & The Savages. Throw in his previous membership with Boston punk group DMZ and the ‘60’s influenced Lyres and you have someone who has attacked his fret board with a passion in a variety of styles these last thirty-five years, with no signs of slowing down anytime soon.

He is a music fan, as well as a writer and performer of songs, but his music collection isn’t like mine or yours. First of all he doesn’t buy cds, only old style vinyl 45s and LPs are allowed into his home. He has turned his back on any mainstream release through the years, and concentrates with a gold miner’s intensity in looking for lost nuggets in a variety of styles that others have missed. Listening to forgotten swing / jump blues artists from the 1940’s like Louis Jordan and Bullmoose Jackson, along with old time country singers from the 1950’s including Floyd Tillman, Webb Pierce and Moon Mullican is his idea (and mine) of a fun evening. Obscure blues artists and rockabilly bands form another core of his library that pretty much ends by the late 60’s. His real passion though falls under the category of Soul music. There has been a lot of Soul Music sub -genres through the years including Memphis Soul, Philly Soul, Detroit Soul, Chicago Soul, and the broader, overlapping Northern Soul. Detroit Soul, more popularly known as Motown, had the most mass commercial appeal, while Philly Soul generally had more of a “sweeter” sound than the grittier Stax/Volt label artists who recorded in Memphis. Chicago Soul had at times a harder blues edge, and Northern Soul is a general catchall phrase for a lot of obscure artists from the North who never had hit records but released a lot of quality music. Northern Soul also caught on big in certain U.K. clubs during the 60’s and 70’s that were specializing in playing these lesser known Soul musicians. No matter how you classify Soul records, it always has a lot of feeling inside the grooves.

I spent an evening with Peter recently, and he kept pulling out rare and unknown Soul 45s while we discussed the various artists on the small Chicago labels of Onederful and Mar - V- Lus. He recorded the songs he played onto a cdr; here are a few of what we listened to:

1.) Carl O. Jones / Betty Everett – “Days Gone By” (Chicago / Northern Soul). Betty had a hit with the “Shoop Shoop Song”, this was less commercial, but just as satisfying.

2.) Johnny Sayles – “You Told a Lie” (Chicago Soul). Deep, wrenching tale of loss and betrayal.

3.) Soul Brothers Six – “Your Love is Such a Wonderful Love” (Rochester, N.Y.) Five brothers and a friend, uptempo group who recorded on the Atlantic label

4.) Otis Clay – “I Got to Find a Way” (Chicago Soul). Powerful vocalist still
performing live.

5.) Alvin Cash – “Twine Time” (Chicago Soul) Big instrumental hit in 1965

6.) McKinley Mitchell – “A Bit of Soul” (Chicago Soul). One-derful label, he epitomizes the talented, unknown mid – sixties Soul artist.

7.) Bobby Moore & the Rhythm Aces – “Go Ahead and Burn” (Alabama). The Deep South never sounded so good.

8.) Freddie Scott – “I’ll Be Gone” (Rhode Island). Knock out lost single on the Shout label.

9.) Eddie Floyd – “Big Bird” (Memphis Soul). Lesser known song than his big hit “Knock on Wood”

10.) Johnnie Taylor – “Love Bones” (Memphis Soul). Stax / Volt label magic.


In one evening of playing music we didn’t even scratch the surface of his massive collection of hard to find records. Singers like O.V.Wright and Harold Burrage will have to be saved for another day. After repeated listening to the cd he made for me, I learned more than a few things. Johnny Sayles has Soul. Bobby Moore has Soul. Freddie Scott has Soul. Peter Greenberg has Soul.

The F – Word

The Secret Museum
By Jim Webb

It has a deep impact on most people when heard, no matter what the circumstances might be. It’s also an adjective that can be used to describe a whole range of feelings and emotions when calmer vocabulary seemingly just won’t do. A lot of people refuse to even utter the letters that comprise its meaning, because by even saying it you have accepted a certain responsibility for choosing such a descriptive word. There are some who freely accept it as an expressive term, while others have run away from it for as long as they’ve heard its sound. Yes, I am talking about the musical category known as Fusion.

A recent concert appearance in Santa Fe by Fusion pioneer John McLaughlin has reopened this long running debate on the merits of this style of music. He is the pre-eminent Fusion musician on the planet, still releasing new cds and touring all over the world at sixty-eight years of age. He has played the guitar for the last sixty years and has been at the forefront of this highly technical brand of music since its creation in the late 1960’s. No one that has ever seen or heard John McLaughlin play would doubt that he has a tremendous command of the guitar. Not only does he play at times with a blazing pace on the fret board, but he is also a master improviser in the great Jazz tradition. What has made McLaughlin such an imposing figure is that he does have more than just technical virtuosity plugged into his amp. There is a lyricism to the guitar lines that he endlessly weaves, and he has also proven himself to be one of the original innovators in creating a true World Music style. He has played with both Miles Davis and Jimi Hendrix, and that high octane mixture of jazz and rock is what Fusion is all about. His 70’s electric band Mahavishnu Orchestra had some of the best musicians around (Cobham, Goodman, and Hammer), while he later created Shakti as a vehicle to explore his interest in Indian music. Guitarists Jeff Beck and Pat Metheny have both called John the best guitarist in the world, lofty praise from two highly respected musicians. His performance with The Fourth Dimension band was a microcosm of all things good and bad that have been debated about Fusion since its creation. Excessive soloing might be a downer for some, but how do you argue with such mind blowing technical virtuosity? Others might cry about a lack of “songs” (a la Burt Bacharach), but these four musicians exhibited a cohesion rarely seen that trumped any mundane need for familiar tunes. If someone said it sounded like a guitar / drum clinic at times I wouldn’t argue, but what a sound they threw at us! Etienne M’bappe was a revelation with his unique bass lines, while Mark Mondesir kept the drum seat red hot all night long. Keyboardist Gary Husband added a lot of tasteful licks with McLaughlin the whole evening smiling as if he had finally found that lost chord he’d been searching for all these years. John called himself just an aging hippie at one point during the concert, and that humility rang as true as any note from his guitar. Like a Zen master patiently waiting for his future students to find him, McLaughlin has explored the fret board in a variety of styles throughout his life, and has stayed open to its possibilities. Many people aspire to be the best at what they do, but hard work and skill will only get you so far. After many years he came to the realization that a true master doesn’t just play the guitar, you also have to let the guitar play you.

Immediately after the final notes ended a concert goer one row away from me leaned over to his friend and said - “what do you think”? After forty years people still don’t know what to make of it. If you have any doubts buy John’s latest cd entitled “To The One”, after listening to it then you’ll know exactly what side of the fence you’re on. When it comes to the F-Word, I don’t give a f**k what anyone else says. McLaughlin’s Fusion. I love it.


Peace,
Jim Webb

To 1971 and Back Again: T.S. McPhee and his Mighty Groundhogs; America Cried

The Secret Museum
Jim Webb and Michael Mooney




The Groundhogs—Split
(Liberty Records/United Artists 1971)
At first I don’t believe the things I thought the night before,
But now they come back like a torrent of ignorance once more,
I can’t accept life isn’t a dream; it doesn’t seem real any more,
My mind and body are two things, not one.
T.S. McPhee (Split Part Three)

Making the most of the LP record format, Tony (T.S.) McPhee utilizes the first side of his claustrophobic masterpiece, Split, 1971’s sixth bestselling album in the United Kingdom (!), to document his (subsequently recognized as mistaken) descent into schizophrenia. I believe it’s the Post-Sixties Life-In-London Comedown he’s describing here—see Ray Davies’ Muswell Hillbillies LP for further proof that 1971 wasn’t the best of times to be residing in The Smoke—or maybe just the drugs, but McPhee does a convincing job of relating the terror of psychic disconnect regardless of its nature (I should know).

Briefly John Lee Hooker’s UK backup group, The Groundhogs use the archetypal Power Trio format, a la Cream, Experience, Cheer, Grand Funk, and Budgie (Budgie!) as a springboard for uniquely furious and unglued shape-changing riffage, with a flair all their own for spontaneous shifts in tone and rhythm. This definitive ‘Hogs lineup of T.S., Peter Cruickshank and Ken Pustelnik play an equivocal configuration of Rock: Blues-derived in the loosest sense (more a mood than a style), but stripped of all Brit B-Boom artifice, then layered with dense distortion, wah wah-fired guitar dementia, and an unsettling lyrical fatalism. I call it Punk Rock. The four Splits (Parts One, Two, etc.) of side one create a mood of paranoia matched only by Van Der Graaf Generator’s Pawn Hearts (also from 1971, more evidence that maybe it was the times.). Split One set the tone and rocks its multi-tracked-axes-self silly, as T.S. descends into the psychogenic inferno, but the entire side is a monster. Tony doesn’t find any answers by the end of Split Four, though one gets the sense that redemption may be found by flipping over the record.

Almost. Side two modulates the mood a little, but not the attack, beginning with leadoff cut—and hands down bonafide Rock Classic scorcher—Cherry Red. Not much optimism for T.S., though:

All night long I loved her
Morning came too soon
I knew she’d be gone by the afternoon
I said, “Please don’t go”
Still she said goodbye
But as she turned around she had a crafty look in her eye.

All next day I waited for her return
But she didn’t show
The daylight turned to the dark of night
I said, “Please come soon”
Still there was no sign.
As the dawn returned
I knew that look in her eye was just a lie
And I thought it said:
“When the moon rise this evening, you turn round in your bed,
The warmth of my body will heat you,
Make your blood run Cherry Red”

Cruickshank’s bass and, especially, Pustelnik’s unbridled drumming approach brilliance here, yet McPhee’s incandescent playing outguns them both. You will not have lived a full life until you’ve heard this song. The somber, near-gothic ecological paean A Year In The Life follows, then the truly lunatic Junkman (famously covered by The Fall) with its skronky atonal solo guitar that takes up the song’s entire second half. And lest anyone forget that T.S. was/is an expert Blues player (a version of The Groundhogs still exists in 2010), the record ends on a relatively quiet note with a grungy roots version of Hooker’s Groundhog Blues—basically Tony, his masterful vocal, authentically bluesy guitar, and wavering stick tapping for accompaniment.
Also recommended:
Thank Christ For The Bomb (1970)
Who Will Save The World? The Mighty Groundhogs! (1972)
-Michael Mooney


America Cried

In the fall of 1971, singer, songwriter Don McLean released his epic song about experiencing the tumultuous 1960s, entitled “American Pie.” It has a lot of specific and vague references to musical events that shaped his (and our) consciousness while growing up in the 1950s and ’60s. It is also a lament for the idealistic “America” that finally vanished during that same period. The Civil Rights Movement, political assassinations, and events of the Vietnam War changed our country, and the music that was being created became a reflection of those turbulent times. Buddy Holly, J.P. Richardson and Richie Valens were killed in 1959 when their plane crashed near Clear Lake, Iowa, while on tour. Don McLean felt we had lost a whole lot more than just those three gifted musicians, and his tale still resonates to this very day. Much has happened since 1971, so I thought it was time to add a few more verses for these last 40 years.

They were singing,
“Bye – bye miss American pie”
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, this’ll be the day that I die.
___________

We mixed Funk and Soul with Rock n’Roll
I thought that sound would never grow old
Some went so high they just drifted away
And while Son of Sam cruised with the power turned off
The studio dancers could never stop
Too busy tasting the real thing in the dark
Freaking out like tomorrow would never come

The King fell over, and never got up
Now he wanders in Vegas, another lied to ghost
Sometimes you got nuthin’ when you think you have it all
The corporate suits still controlled the game
But a Rotten smell wouldn’t go away
So they disguised it with skinny ties and short cropped hair

While JB was discoing all around
The street gangs stole his processed crown
And the Great Black Music slowly faded away
The plastic ono man was then cut down
Bigger than Jesus with the Woodstock crowd
We all gathered in the park, the day the music died

The TV screens replaced the record machines
With grown men dressed like runway queens
All that sprayed up hair only made us laugh
The angry young boys then had enough
Yelling here we are now, entertain us
Some things just don’t ever change

I met a jazz man who played the blues
I asked him for the latest news
He said they’ll call this the Black Holocaust soon enough
Always Rappin’ guns and drugs, the new stars are throwaway thugs
That same song has been playing far too long

Wanting too much fame, has been an expensive ride
Ask the princess if her fare was too high
No one’s heard her answer from the grave
There was a young boy who loved to sing and dance
In front of millions he grew into a lonely man
With his gloved hand he never got to wave goodbye
The day the music died

They were singing,
“Bye – bye miss American pie”
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, this’ll be the day that I die.

Don McLean—“American Pie”
Jim Webb
webbjuice@comcast.net

The Christmas Letter; Randy Holden: Population I

The Secret Museum
Jim Webb & Michael Mooney



The Christmas Letter

I’m sure you are familiar with the practice of old friends filling you in with a little too much information as regards the trajectory of their life and children during the past year in a Christmas letter. Triumphant tales of job promotions or high school class achievements from the kiddies are added to what their Golden Retriever is up to for a recap of their important events from the last year. It’s nice to hear that Jennifer made the lacrosse team, or that an old acquaintance is now higher up the corporate ladder, but if someone was a friend you would’ve talked to them (or emailed etc.) occasionally for these updates. Sending an Xmas letter seems like a great cover for not wanting to actually speak to a person, but you make sure they know all about your “big accomplishments” from the past year. The only problem is that you never get to hear about the really important stuff. I’m talking about what new musical infatuations they’ve gotten into; like a late adult entry into Glam, or finally having a deep Sinatra immersion. In response to such routine letters I have decided to compose my own year end Holiday recap that will bring everyone up to date on what I consider to be the key music events that I have experienced in the last twelve months.

2010 will be remembered by me as the year when Taos favorites Manby’s Head played their first live shows. Mr.’s Greenberg, Mooney, Reid, and Whitlock broke out of their rehearsal space near Arroyo Seco and brought their brand of garage / psych- rock to the masses. They played several shows at Seco Pearl, and also raised hell at The Shadows Bar & Grill, as well as playing through a minor dust storm outdoors at the Kannaroo Festival near Questa in June. Add in their Santa Fe and Albuquerque gigs and they became a thirst quenching drink for New Mexicans that were parched by the continually dry local music scene. Two other club shows stood out during the year, The Meat Puppets at the Santa Brewing Co. in May, and a series of shows in September by Barrence Whitfield & The Savages. The Puppets brought their mangled sound of hard rock, punk and psychedelic cowboy tunes up from Tucson and entertained a packed crowd with a great set. Barrence Whitfield is a soul shouter that hails from the Boston area, his good friend and guitarist Peter Greenberg of Arroyo Seco reunited the original Savages for three gigs in New Mexico, and the KTAO Center show in September was a welcome blast of fresh air for these parts.

A lot of new infatuations did occur (Blue Note record label - see earlier Secret Museum /Horse Fly), but certainly the biggest was a 100 CD collection that I stumbled upon from the German Membran Label. Every jazz song that charted from 1917 to 1954 was included on this epic compilation of old Ragtime, Swing and Jazz tunes. Detailed liner notes helped bring the music of Fletcher Henderson, Benny Goodman, and hundreds of others back to life. We are now quite a bit away from the original 1935 – 1940 explosion of the Swing Band era, but all I can say is that current bands like Arcade Fire and Maroon 5 forced me into cannon balling toward the past for new kicks. The biggest disappointment has to have been the recent cd from Hobbs, New Mexico native Ryan Bingham titled “Junky Star”. He was on an upward flight after releasing “Roadhouse Sun”, and sharing a Grammy for his song in the movie “Crazy Heart”, but this was a step in the wrong direction. He abandoned his slashing rock band sound, for a mostly dull collection of late night campfire songs that could only be recommended as a sleep aid.

The best concert of the year was a no brainer – Roger Waters “The Wall” was a spectacular multi media extravaganza that had epic ticket prices ($99.00 - $250.00) as well. This intense story from the ex-Pink Floyd bassman included a German Messerschmitt fighter plane smashing into the wall early on, and the huge mechanical puppets and other effects surprisingly never dwarfed his core tale of alienation, and rage at all forms of institutional control(All in all we’re just another brick in the wall). Part Broadway show, part Rock concert, a total success in creating thought provoking entertainment. A dream come true for progressive rock music fans, grab the DVD when it finally comes out if you didn’t make it to one of the shows.

I didn’t get promoted at work, my car has over 100,000 miles on it, and I’m trying to downsize everything in the wake of the continuing economic recession (except buying CDs and concert tickets of course). The good news is that 2011 is just around the corner, and there’s still a lot of great music to be discovered.

Merry Christmas,
-Jim Webb
webbjuice@comcast.net

Randy Holden’s Sonic Adventure: The Fender IV, Sons Of Adam, The Other Half, Blue Cheer, Population II

Self-proclaimed (with justification) Guitar God (and gear head), Randy Holden’s recording career began in 1964 with Los Angeles’ Surf-influenced Fender IV. Signed to Imperial Records, their entire output consists of six reverb-drenched songs that owe more than a nod to Dick Dale. 19-year-old Randy already shows a tremendous command of his instrument on these early cuts, though I can’t listen to much Surf Music— kinda makes me edgy (there’s a weird Kenneth Anger/Jayne Mansfield/Big Daddy Roth air about early— and mid AND late—60s L.A. that’s difficult to explain, but it’s evident in everything from dingbat apartment buildings to the Beverly Hillbillies to Ed Kienholz. The whole place reeks of such a creepy pre-memory I’ve-seen-this-somewhere-before vibe that I eventually found it impossible to live there.) Fender IV are particularly spooky sounding, with their proto—ska beat, Middle-East melodies and small room recording atmosphere.

Sons Of Adam trade reverb for sustain, add vocals, and increase the garage factor. The results occasionally sound like The Leaves, or Love minus the songs (and Arthur Lee), plus Jeff Beck on guitar. I also detect traces of The Misunderstood, Beau Brummels and Shadows Of Knight in the mix (none of the dozen cuts I’ve heard would sound out of place on Nuggets.) A pre-Love Michael Stuart contributes some very sharp drumming, and Holden continues to evolve as a guitarist—Beck comparisons aside-— while beginning his initial experiments with volume, feedback and alternate tuning. Good L.A. Pop/proto-psych with Freakbeat leanings.

Transplanted from So Cal to San Francisco, The Other Half’s main claim to fame is Punk classic Mr. Pharmacist. Their lone album suffers from sludgy production and unnecessary cheesy canned audience applause on the opening track, but there’s some great stuff here, notably Flight Of The Dragon Lady, Morning Fire, and Wonderful Day— a Summer of Love stunner about, in Randy’s words, “this guy who's really happy, generally just happy about everything in life. And he's got some girl that is just pissed. So it's a conflict.” With the exception of What Can I Do For You (a BIG exception to some), nowhere is the LP reflective of the contemporaneous San Francisco sound. This is tough psychedelic street punk, similar in certain aspects to the first Amboy Dukes album, and Holden’s work is outstanding. Too bad the record was released in 1968, at least a year past it’s sell-by date.

Randy’s complete Blue Cheer output, consisting of Side Two of 1969’s New! Improved! (three Holden-composed and sung tracks totaling fourteen minutes forty-two seconds), is, ironically, his best-known work. Suffice to say that Holden’s inclination toward heaviness is well matched by Cheer rhythm section Dickie Peterson and Paul Whaley. Drummer Whaley in particular has never sounded better. If Blue Cheer had continued in this vein, they wouldn’t have ended their career playing their first two albums exclusively on the live circuit. Instead, they opted for the prevailing California Mellow approach on the remaining other half (!) of the LP, and future recordings. Randy, meanwhile, just got heavier.

Population II teams Holden with Kak’s Chris Lockheed on an unparalleled study in guitar extremism, or the heaviest record you’ve never heard. Lockheed plays drums and keyboard (simultaneously!!) and Randy does the rest. Sixteen two-hundred watt Sunn amps and a 10-hour-per-day-every-day rehearsal schedule in an empty opera house- the only place big enough to handle the power- set the stage for one massive slab of Strat-fired bedlam (the Sunn getup didn’t do Randy’s Gibson justice, so he switched to Jimi’s axe of choice. Comparisons abound.) Holden takes up the story: “Chris first searched me out after Blue Cheer… So when he had a meeting with me, he said that he also played keyboards. And loving sensationalism as I do, I asked him, ‘Can you play both at once, drums and keyboards?’ He said, ‘Yeah.’ I thought okay, if this guy's got the confidence and the nerve to say that, he's gotta be able to do it. But it was really laborious for him... It was very numerical and mathematical and calculated. It was very difficult to do. And I realized that the job he faced sucked. To me, it would have been no fun at all. Because you're totally restricted. On one side you have to have this soft touch on keyboards, and the other side, you have to be slamming. So your personality’s divided right down the middle. It's amazing that he didn't overdose on schizophrenia.” Consequently, Population II has a slowed down feeling, almost leaden at times (and just about perfect for the emerging Quaalude generation.) And it’s unbelievably loud. Had it been given a proper offical release in 1970 instead of never (there have apparently been more than a few bootleg pressings over the years, and a questionable “legitimate” Swedish cd issuance), this album might be mentioned in the same breath as Black Sabbath’s first or Paranoid, instead of Bloodrock’s second or Kingdom Come.

Partial discography:

Randy Holden Early Works ’64-’66 (Captain Trips CD 1997)
Sons Of Adam- Moxie EP (7” 1981)
The Other Half (Atco LP 1968)
Blue Cheer- New! Improved! (Philips LP 1969)
Randy Holden Population II (unreleased 1970)
-Michael Mooney

Curtains...

Via email earlier today:


Hello everyone!

I want to let you know that it has been decided to close the Taos Horse Fly. There will not be a December publication. Feel free to submit your pieces to any other publication.

I thank you all for your past contributions and wish you all the best in the future.

For those of you have subscriptions, the remaining balance will be calculated and returned to you.

Lydia Garcia
Publisher

We're not sure what's going on here, but hopefully it'll get sorted out soon. Loftholdingswood and the Secret Museum will continue.

-mm

The Zombies, David Gates and Johnny Otis

The Secret Museum

By Michael Mooney and Jim Webb

David Gates & Bread vs. The Zombies: A Word of Caution

In the annals of Rock, one would be hard pressed to find two more prominent groups with greater self-esteem issues than The Zombies and Bread. Both were responsible for some of the mid-20th century’s most delicate and tuneful music (in Bread’s case, treacly so), yet were much too sensitive for their own good (in Bread’s case, falsely so.) And both bands displayed varying symptoms of mental illness, and in very different ways. As such, their musical message must be declared extremely dangerous to any potential listener who may be experiencing the slightest hint of emotional vulnerability. The behaviors demonstrated in the following songs are not recommended. Consider this a warning.

The Zombies got off to a good start in the late fall of 1964. Their debut single “She’s Not There” shot to Number Two on the Billboard Top Hot 100 chart and heralded them as strong contenders during the second wave of the British Invasion. The Zombies’ jazzy sophistication set them apart from other less polished chart invaders that autumn, such as The Kinks, Manfred Mann, The Honeycombs and The Rolling Stones. “She’s Not There” reveals the group’s innate sensitivity, but suggests, via Rod Argent’s alternating direct/nebulous lyric and the equally alternating resignation/fury of Colin Blunstone’s vocal, a reluctant indifference to the song’s subject (everybody sing):

Well, no one told me about her—the way she lied
Well, no one told me about her—how many people cried
But it’s too late to say you’re sorry
How would I know, why should I care?
Please don’t bother trying to find her
She’s not there

Well, no one told me about her—what could I do
Well, no one told me about her—though they all knew …

Well, let me tell you about the way she looked
The way she’d act and the color of her hair
Her voice was soft and cool, her eyes were clear and bright
But she’s not there …

This is a very peculiar song. The singer is compelled to describe details of the subject’s physical characteristics and behavior, perhaps indicative of the power she may still hold over him, meanwhile admitting his bewilderment that others (his friends?) had been aware of her deviousness all along, yet chose to keep the secret from him. His anger and confusion are obvious, and who can blame the guy?

Second single “Leave Me Be” (written by bassist Chris White) is a signpost for things to come: Blunstone admits his self-pity over her departure, and would like to be left alone, please, until he’s completely recovered. Alas, it is not to be, for The Zombies’ third single bears all the markings of full-blown psychosis.

With “Tell Her No” (another U.S. Top 10 smash), The Zombies’ psychological sickness (it should be noted that most of these songs are the work of Rod Argent; White’s songs, while occasionally lacking amour propre, rarely approach the self-loathing shame of Argent’s more autophobic material. And to be fair to Rod, not everything he’s composed is like this—how could it be?—but surely enough is like this to make you wonder) becomes fully manifest:

… And if she should tell you “come closer”
And if she tempts you with her charms
Tell her no …

I know she’s the kind of girl who’d throw my love away
But I still love her so
Don’t hurt me now, don’t hurt me now …

And if she should tell you “I love you”
Just remember she said that to me …

The lack of self-respect revealed in these words defies comprehension. Because he is still in love with his ex, Colin is asking her new lover to call off the relationship. The 63 “no’s” repeated during the song (second only to The Human Beinz in the Great Rock Negatives competition) probably won’t help his cause, but if anyone in the history of Planet Earth has ever succeeded in reconciling through the use of this uniquely masochistic method, I would be extremely interested in hearing the details.

Here’s more (from Chris White):

She told me she loved me
With words as soft as morning rain
But the light that fell upon me
Turned to shadow when he came …

Maybe after he’s gone
She’ll come back, love me again …
Once in a while, Rod acknowledges his illness:

… Can’t you see that you were wrong
Can’t you see I knew how long you’d lied and cheated …

If I worry that’s my business, anytime I want to cry
If I want to feed this sickness
Keep away from me
Cause I’ll keep trying till you come on home …
Keep trying till you come on home to me

Mostly, though, it’s more of the same (to differing degrees) forever and ever, or at least until, with the exception of “Maybe After He’s Gone,” of course, Odessey and Oracle.

Any analysis of Bread must begin with the manipulative pack of lies quoted below:

It don’t matter to me
If you really feel that
You need some time to be free
Time to go out searching for yourself
Hoping to find time …
To go to find.

And it don’t matter to me
If you take up with some
One who’s better than me
’Cause your happiness is all I want
For you to find peace …
Your peace of mind.

Lotta people have an ego hang-up ’cause they want to be the only one
How many came before, it really doesn’t matter, just as long as you’re the last
Everybody runnin’ ’round and ’round and tryin’ to find out
What’s been missing in the past.

And it don’t matter to me
If your searchin’ brings you
Back together with me
’Cause there’ll always be an empty room
Waiting for you
And an open heart
Waiting for you
Time is on my side

’Cause it don’t matter to me.

Yes it does matter, liar. David Gates is contemptible. He wants to get back into her pants, plain and simple. He uses words like “don’t” instead of “doesn’t” (and phrases such as “Baby, I’m-a want you” and “I wanna make it with you”) to show that he’s just plain folks, and not some slippery West Coast studio hack (or posh Home County boy like those Zombies.) The hippie sentiments expressed in this song are so unmistakably untrue it’s hard not to laugh: that you must have self-image issues to desire commitment in a relationship. Gates certainly has those issues in spades, as evidenced here:

I found her diary underneath a tree
And started reading about me
The words she’d written took me by surprise
You’d never read them in her eyes
They said that she had found the love she waited for
Wouldn’t you know it, she wouldn’t show it

Then she, confronted with the writing there,
Simply pretended not to care
I passed it off as just in keeping with
Her total disconcerting air
And though she tried to hide
The love that she denied
Wouldn’t you know it, she wouldn’t show it.

And as I go through my life, I will give to her, my wife
All the sweet things I can find

I found her diary underneath a tree
And started reading about me
The words began to stick, and tears to flow
Her meaning now was clear to see
The love she’d waited for was someone else not me
Wouldn’t you know it, she wouldn’t show it

And as I go through my life, I will wish for her, his wife
All the sweet things that she can find
All the sweet things they can find

Oh please. You’ve been made a fool, and that’s the best you can do? At least The Zombies would have gone straight to the other man and begged him to end the romance at once. This instant, my good fellow! Instead, David Gates wishes the both of them all the best “things” in life. Gates is no Gandhi. He probably realized the guy was too big to reckon with and went looking for another Top 10 hit instead (sorry, Dave: this one only got to number 15.)

Finally, in “Everything I Own,” after relating all the wonderful “things” his lady taught him (and I’m positive David Gates is precisely the type of chauvinist to refer to his partner as “my lady”), Gates declares that he would give the title of this song, plus his house, and his heart, and his own life in order to touch her body once more. Which begs the question: if she trained you so well, why did she go? David Gates won’t quite commit to admitting that he took her for granted, though he does go on to warn us against similar behavior. The Zombies would never do that.

Recap:
Zombies
1. She is a liar, my friends provided her cover, but I’d rather give a rundown of her physical attributes. (She’s Not There)
2. I won’t leave this room until I’m certain not to liquefy the next time I see the girl who jilted me. (Leave Me Be)
3. She doesn’t love me; she loves you. But I love her. So please, new boyfriend, don’t hurt me. Break up with her. (Tell Her No)
4. She took off with another. I hope she’ll return once it’s over. (Maybe After He’s Gone)
5. She’s a liar, plus she cheated on me. I admit that I am sick, but I will never give up on her. (I’ll Keep Trying)

Bread
1. If you love someone set them free, ’cause I’m easy like Sunday morning. Also, I’m better than everyone else, so I really don’t care if you never return. But if you do, that’s fine, too, because I’m also a liar. And horny. (It Don’t Matter To Me)
2. I’m not troubled by your “disconcerting air,” probably because I’m a sap. But all the best anyway, even though you’re marrying him when I thought you would be marrying me (because I’d like you to think that I’m easy like Sunday morning, but in reality I’m a sap.) (Diary)
3. You kept me warm, but left with him anyway. And I would die if it meant getting you back, which makes absolutely no sense, but I’ll try anything. Oh, and you people out there: let this be a lesson!
4. I wanna make it with you because life may be short, except it may also be long. (Make It With You)
5. I’m-a keep-a talking like-a this until I’m-a make it with you (apologies to Mark E. Smith) (Baby I’m-A Want You)

-Michael Mooney

Who Is This Man?

He is a member of the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame, the Rhythm n’ Blues Hall of Fame, and the Blues Hall of Fame. This musician was the driving force behind 17 Top Forty R n’ B hits between 1950 and 1969, and during 1950 he had 10 songs appear on the Billboard Retail Rhythm n’ Blues lists. His job duties have included being a singer, writer, producer, band leader, performer, author; TV & radio show host, club owner, community organizer, painter and preacher. Not only has he drummed for The Count Basie Orchestra, but he has also played with everyone from jazz legend Charlie Parker to bluesman T-Bone Walker, R n’ B great Big Joe Turner, and Rock icon Frank Zappa. He discovered and nurtured many great singers like Etta James, Hank Ballard, Jackie Wilson, Big Mama Thornton and Little Willie John. In 1945, his big band had a huge hit with “Harlem Nocturne,” and in 2000 he headlined the San Francisco Blues Festival. The person in question has been described as one of the great unknown renaissance men of the 20th century. His parents were Greek immigrants; with the last name on his birth certificate listed as Veliotes. Known as a great ambassador for African American culture, he just happens to be white.

I’m describing the legendary Johnny Otis, and his remarkable life is the subject of a recent biography by George Lipsitz, titled “Midnight at the Barrelhouse, The Johnny Otis Story.” The Barrelhouse was a music club that Johnny opened in the Watts neighborhood of Los Angeles in 1947, and he was instrumental in shaping the sound that was to become Rhythm and Blues. Big Band jazz groups were finding it too expensive to stay together in post World War II America, and Johnny was at the forefront of creating music for small combos that played for the black community. Early on, he repeatedly experienced many different forms of racism as a musician. He saw black musicians’ songs that wouldn’t be played on mainstream radio stations become massive hits when inferior versions by white singers were recorded and released. As an olive-skinned ethnic Greek, Johnny passed for being a light-skinned black, but the various problems that he had in the Jim Crow Deep South were truly unique. He always ate and slept with his band members in the black side of town, but Otis tells a poignant story that occurred in 1952 after playing in Memphis, Tennessee. He was refused a hotel room in the black part of town for being white, so he proceeded to a nearby all white neighborhood, only to be refused a room there for being black. You might already know Johnny from his big hit “Willie and the Hand Jive,” but he is much more than just another name on an oldies radio station. The book touches on all phases of his life, including his thoughts and experience of living through the L.A. Watts riots of 1965, as well as becoming a minister late in life. 


Johnny Otis doesn’t shy away from making negative comments about White America and their acceptance of the racial status quo that had African Americans treated as third class citizens. His anger and at times bitterness might be too off putting for some people, but are examples to me of his complete honesty in recalling his experiences in life. Johnny retired in 2006, after almost 70 years as a professional musician. George Lipsitz should be commended for such an intimate portrait of a unique individual, and we are lucky that Johnny is still with us today at 88 years of age.

Mr. Otis found a way to connect with many different people—through his music, his social work, and the church pulpit he spoke from. Today’s entertainers think success is measured by how large their bank account is, or how many paparazzi trail them around town. Johnny Otis has consistently shown what it means to be committed to your work, to try and help others in need, and to always give back to the community that has nurtured you. Who is this man? I think the best answer is that he’s a real success.

Jim Webb
webbjuic@comcast.net

Suggested listening: “Midnight at the Barrelhouse” 5-CD box set, JSP label.
Further reading: “Upside Your Head, Rhythm and Blues on Central Ave.” by Johnny Otis.

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Mick Jagger & The Rolling Stones; A Baker’s Dozen For Jim Webb

The Secret Museum


By Jim Webb & Michael Mooney


Death of a Salesman: Sir Michael Philip “Mick” Jagger


He sold because that’s what he did best. Some people knew him only as a musician, a singer, and writer of songs. Mick never straightened them out—part of being a master salesman is letting the customer think they know you, are comfortable with you. No one would ever have considered him an innovator in the musical products he packaged and sold since 1963 with various members of his sales team called The Rolling Stones. The quality of his wares varied considerably, with a noticeable decline in later years. In the fast changing tastes of the pop culture market place, he figured out how to stay active for almost 50 years, when others simply faded away.

“The man knew what he wanted and went out and got it! Walked into a jungle and comes out, the age of 21, and he’s rich!”—Willy Loman*

The last great product he had to sell was from 1972, called “Exile on Main St.” This period was at the tail end of when Jagger still gave a damn about what he was pushing on the showroom floor. His vocals on “Sweet Virginia,” “Loving Cup,” and “Torn and Frayed” have an authenticity that was rarely heard again. What followed in the coming years exposed how naked his ambition was to sell, regardless if it affected his credibility. A track from 1973’s “Goat’s Head Soup” called “Dancing with Mr. D” was complete nonsense, foreshadowing the inconsistent studio and unnecessary live albums to come. It took the young punks selling rebellion in the U.K. to get Jagger & Co. hustling again with “Some Girls” in 1978. By the mid-eighties, Mick was so bored he decided to go solo, before quickly coming to his senses when the sales figures for those efforts were reported. While his old buddy Keith Richards had been mostly chasing drugs, Mick was interested in being a celebrity and chasing women more than anything else.

“Just wanna be careful with those girls, Biff, that’s all. Don’t make any promises. No promises of any kind. Because a girl, y’know, they always believe what you tell them.”—Willy Loman

Mick Jagger was one of the greatest salesmen in the last 50 years. At one time or another he sold sex, seduction, danger, attitude, style, albums, 45s, CDs, DVDs , T-shirts, hats and anything else he could put his big lips logo on. We bought it all, and in the process he became a very rich man. A brief nod should be given to his first manager Andrew Loog Oldham who showed him how to use the media to his advantage. The group formed their own Rolling Stones record label in 1971 to increase profits and cut out the middle man, and also became one of the first to accept corporate sponsorship when touring. Budweiser, Volkswagen, Tommy Hilfiger, Sprint and Levi’s are just a few of the companies that have paid big money to be associated with The Rolling Stones traveling circus. Ultimately, the product that Mick Jagger sold best was always himself.

“The man who makes an appearance in the business world, the man who creates personal interest, is the man who gets ahead.”—Willy Loman

In 2010, “Exile on Main St.” was re-released with a couple of previously unused tracks from the original sessions. After all these years, the strength of the writing and performances from 1972 still stands out as one of the high points in their long catalogue. “Exile” has unfortunately also reminded us that the Mick Jagger who wrote great songs has been a missing person for so long that it is time to officially announce his passing. Mick had a lot of big sales through the years, but his biggest was making people believe he was just a singer in a famous rock n’ roll band. It was a pleasure doing business with you Mr. Jagger. I won’t forget to put roses on your grave.

“He had a good dream. It’s the only dream you can have—to come out number 1 man.”—Willy Loman

*“Death of a Salesman” by Arthur Miller.

Jim Webb
webbjuice@comcast.net





An Interview with Jim Webb

MM: Jim, what is your earliest Rock memory, and why do you suppose it stuck with you through the years?

JW: At first I was going to say seeing The Beatles on the Ed Sullivan Show, then I remembered a special dance I did for parents to an early Herb Alpert/Tijuana Brass hit single. After about 30 seconds of making sure they were my first Rock recollections, I realized that the truth was that on Saturday mornings when I was about five years old (1963) I used to watch a TV show called “Sky King.” I don’t know who the actors were, but it was a Roy Rogers type cowboy show that was unique because the main cowboy flew around in a small airplane solving crimes and helping people. It took place in the Western U.S., and all of the scenery—mountains, boulders and trails—made it seem like a magical place. Not long ago, I researched the show on the Internet and found out it was from the mid fifties, with reruns being shown into the sixties.

MM: I faintly recall Sky King—mainly, I think, because of daughter Penny. But I don’t remember any music. Did the Sky King sing?

JW: That doesn’t ring a bell, him singing, but the combination of him flying a plane and being a cowboy seemed like an exciting life. The Sky King was surrounded by rocks, mountains, etc.…

MM: I see. But that hardly explains your subsequent interest in Rock Music, especially if Penny doesn’t factor in there someplace. Let’s go back to Herb Alpert for a moment. As an eight year-old, I dug him almost as much as The Association. Still do.

JW: My parents didn’t buy a lot of LPs, but they did buy some Herb Alpert & the TJB. My dad loved listening to the mid-sixties Ramsey Lewis Trio and anything by Anthony Newley. “Roar of the Greasepaint, Smell of the Crowd” was played a lot when it came out. The TJB was fun music, and not too complicated.

MM: Miles Davis once said that you could tell a Herb Alpert lead within three notes. Herb probably took that as a compliment.

So a nice mid-sixties Adult Contemporary vibe was going on at the Webb compound? In Philadelphia, you’d hear some of that stuff on the AM giants WIBG and WFIL, but mostly the mellower songs were only played on WIP. That’s where I first encountered The Free Design back in ’68. Did you know Chris Dedrick passed away recently?

JW: I didn’t know Dedrick had died. The first radio station I can remember listening to fanatically was CKLW from Windsor, Ontario, Canada. We lived in Toledo, Ohio, from 1965 to 1969 and that station was close to Detroit— it easily reached us. I have three brothers and four sisters, but my older brother and sister were buying 45s regularly in ’66 & ’67. We weren’t buying albums; the first 45 I can remember buying was The Rolling Stones “Ruby Tuesday.”

MM: Good choice for a very first purchase, and an extremely poppy song. CKLW—were they playing the noisier sounds coming out of Detroit at the time?

JW: A little bit of everything. But mostly they were a Top Forty station that took chances. Things like Bob Seger’s “Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man” was a monster smash in Toledo/Detroit, and they played The Who’s “Call Me Lightning.” Whatever they played I thought were big hits across the country—turns out some were just regional hits. The first 8-track I bought was The Cream—Best of, 1969. An older neighborhood friend was into The Doors, Hendrix and The Cream.

MM: Same situation in Philly. I always assumed Some Kind Of Wonderful by the Soul Brothers Six was a nationwide smash, as did Grand Funk Railroad, apparently, who were to discover otherwise when their version went Top Ten seven years later. Ditto Billy Harner and the Kit Kats. I’m still amazed that Call Me Lightning broke out in the Upper Midwest and nowhere else.

In 1969, your family relocated to the East Coast. Did you find the musical climate in the Delaware Valley to be much different from Northwest Ohio?

JW: I remember we moved during the middle of sixth grade. One of my teachers that year in Bensalem, PA., asked the class to write down their favorite group. Three Dog Night won, closely followed by Sly & The Family Stone. I was a little puzzled by that result, having written down The Rolling Stones.

MM: Hmm. It seems that the divide was already in place. I guess Bobby Sherman and The J5 hadn’t arrived yet. I, too, was firmly in the Stones camp in late ’69.

You are five years away from witnessing your first concert. Give us a sense of how your musical tastes expanded during the interim.

JW: The period of 1970 to 1973 didn’t spark any great new finds, I wasn’t looking that hard for any. I still listened to Top Forty radio, but that was getting hard to find good songs. People like James Taylor did nothing for me, and Jethro Tull’s “Thick as a Brick” seemed too weird. A good friend of mine got Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon,” but neither one of us could understand what all the fuss was about—not driving enough for my 15 year old ears. In late 1973/early ’74, the New York Dolls cleared the decks. Watching them on Don Kirshner’s TV show with their platform boots, wild hair and slashing songs made me realize I had ignored the great non-commercial bands that would never be on AM radio. I started listening to progressive FM station WMMR, and just kept checking out all the bands/artists that I hadn’t heard before. Any Rock magazine like Circus, Rolling Stone, Hit Parader was now consumed cover to cover.

MM: And so, the Dolls served as your catalyst to the possibilities of Rock. I would suggest that proximity to Manhattan, and later trips to London, were also springboards to wider musical appreciation. Many have taken that road and never looked back, yet you’ve always remained faithful to some of the less exploratory sub-genres. Explain.

JW: I’m not sure, but listening to all the great radio hits and almost-hits from the sixties made me appreciate a good three-minute song. Roger Miller’s “King of the Road” just seemed like a great tune when I first heard it. Once I got into the history of Rock music, it didn’t take long to have to run down all their influences from Blues, Country and R n’ B. The history of pop music and how it quickly evolved through the years just seemed like something important to check out. It was still reasonably new; in ’74, Elvis had only been around for about 20 years. Pop Rock music was being created by our extended peer group, for our enjoyment. The Rock community still existed in the mid-seventies, though corporate big money was already changing things.

MM: The decline of AM radio gave rise to the creation of specific airplay formats and a splintering of broadcast choices. Is that fragmentation responsible for the deplorable state of radio these days? Or does it no longer matter?

JW: For a long time, the record companies had no idea what would sell, they just released 45s and albums, hoping some of them would be big sellers. Then they signed a lot more bands that sounded like what was selling. The Underground/Punk scene in both the U.K./U.S. (1972-77) was a reaction to the corporate suits, and the kids finally could make “their” music. Radio today is simply about holding the most listeners as possible until the next commercial break comes. Someone like Sheryl Crow is very safe—she has homogenized the last 30 years of pop/rock music to the point that there is nothing left to taste.

MM: Apart from the U.S. Hardcore phenomenon (the ’80s version of a Folk revival, in my opinion) and some interesting rumblings from the world Underground, that decade appears today as a musical wasteland. Two questions: What happened to the promise of Punk, and is there anything of merit to come out of the 1980s that still resonates?

JW: The eighties didn’t have much to offer me that I could find at the time. I’m sure I still haven’t heard some great stuff released on obscure labels. My current favorite unknown/unheard (at least in the U.S.) band from the eighties is the U.K. group Half Man Half Biscuit. After about 1983, I dove into The Blues and didn’t come to the surface until 1987. I immediately went into a prolonged Jazz infatuation that ended around 1995 (thankfully I missed Grunge). The shambolic indie/punk band The Fall really blossomed in the eighties, and I still like their stuff.

MM: Which brings us to the last 15 years, and my final question: Do you see any hope in the future of Rock, or will it continue to splutter and meander before ultimately petering in the next decade or so?

JW: Mainstream corporate-promoted Rock is dying as we speak. What gives me hope is the young men and women who are currently pumping their enthusiasm into varying styles of music. As an example, there is a young band from Albuquerque called The Squash Blossom Boys that embodies that pure love of music. They take old blues and folk songs from the 1920s and ’30s and rave some of them up into an out of control freight train. When any group of people get together to pursue their shared love of music, great things are always possible.

Michael Mooney

Lisa Germano Redux/Jager Shots Live

The Secret Museum
Michael Mooney & Jim Webb

Lisa Germano: Magic Neighbor, In The Maybe World, Lullaby For Liquid Pig

I was wrong. A few issues back, a particularly nasty review of Lisa Germano’s (somewhat) recent recordings appeared in this column. Actually, one recording: Lullaby For Liquid Pig, from 2003 (I’d never gotten around to listening to 2006’s In The Maybe World, and wasn’t even aware of last year’s Magic Neighbor.) I made a big deal about why I couldn’t relate to Lisa’s newer music, how her self-pity bored me, and that she seemed stuck in a self-created rut only she could wallow in. Exceedingly boorish accusations, I’m ashamed to admit. The fact of the matter is that I hadn’t truly listened to Lullaby For Liquid Pig. But now I have, and I was wrong.

Jim has a rule, which demands that one listen to a recording at least three times before consigning lesser works to eBay (or wherever those thousands of CDs go each year.) I’m impulsive. If something doesn’t grab me immediately, I’ve been known to hit the eject button and move on to something else. Lullaby For Liquid Pig is not an easy first listen. Maybe it’s the sequencing, but the three initial songs killed the album for me the first time around. And while it picks up considerably from there, I didn’t give the record a chance. That’s a shameful admission, particularly from someone who prides himself on his musical tastes, because LFLP is a pretty good disc. While not quite approaching the caliber of Lisa’s groundbreaking 4AD LPs, it does maintain an appealing unsteady quality throughout, and the tunes are definitely there, although she occasionally buries her hooks beneath provisional-sounding—and surely intentional—home-studio dissonance (especially on those first three tracks, which are, of course, my favorites now.) Another thing I was wrong about: Lisa’s still self-deprecating (a rare quality in the overweening world of Pop,) and she’s still, at times, terribly funny.

There’s nothing humorous about In The Maybe World. This album ranks right up there with Berlin, The Painted Word, and Germano’s own Geek The Girl as one of Rock’s classic works of introspective sadness. The theme is loss. These are the lyrics to Too Much Space:

In the morning without a sound
And the stirring of dreams around
Then you wake up
He wasn’t there again

On the way home you feel it there
Cause your heart needs to be somewhere
But you wake up
To too much space again
An illusion it’s just not true
We’ve always been me and you

But I wake up
And you’re not here again
You never know
You wait too long
You need a fire
It’s all gone wrong

He gave it up he hit the dust
And now your heart is made of rust

You dig a plant
And put it there
And hope and hope
And swear and swear
One of us.

Lisa Germano has the rare ability to render complex emotional states into deceptively astute and intelligible lyricism. The music on this brief record (34 minutes) is equally beautiful, at times heartbreakingly so. That it’s taken me four years to discover the album is regrettable. In The Maybe World is a small masterpiece.

So is Magic Neighbor. The fact that an artist can produce her best work nearly 20 years into a solo career that hasn’t exactly set the world on fire is (may I say?) remarkable. That the same artist only got started well into her fourth decade proves that Pop is not exclusively a young (or someone pretending to be a young) person’s game, and that creativity need not diminish with age. It’s inspiring that a musician as distinctive as Lisa Germano continues to remain true to her own musical intuition while expanding its possibilities. Magic Neighbor is a little more impressionistic than most Germano recordings (French Impressionistic to be exact). Not as tranquil-sounding as In The Maybe World, though every bit as melodic, there’s also a degree of luminousness in the subject matter here that is not usually found on a Lisa Germano album. That may bode well for those of you who are unwilling to hang tough with Lisa for fear of reaching for the stop button (or the razor blade), just like me several months ago. I won’t make that mistake again.

Lisa Germano Top Ten:
In The Maybe World (2006)
Geek The Girl (1995)
Magic Neighbor (2009)
Happiness (1994 version)
Inconsiderate Bitch EP (1994)
Slide (1998)
Happiness (1993 version)
Excerpts From A Love Circus (1996)
OP8: Slush (L.G. and Giant Sand- 1997)
On The Way Don From The Moon Palace (1991)
-Michael Mooney

Drunk on Profits: Jagermeister, Live Nation & Rush

The Canadian Rock band Rush recently played the Hard Rock Casino Pavilion in Albuquerque. This year’s main outdoor summer concert series in the Duke City is again being handled primarily by Live Nation, who earlier this year merged with Ticketmaster to create an entertainment powerhouse called Live Nation Entertainment. Live Nation signs bands to long term deals where they become the exclusive promoter for all of their live concerts. Madonna, U2 and Jay-Z are just a few of the big names that have been locked up with huge guarantees from the deep financial pockets of Live Nation. As the traditional market for CD sales keeps shrinking, bands are relying even more on concert revenue as their biggest source of income. Ticketmaster was the largest company that handled ticket sales for hundreds of main venues throughout the Unites States before joining up with Live Nation in 2010. We all know them for the service charges, facility and shipping charges that are added to the base price of the tickets we purchase either online or by phone. As I drove into the parking lot at the Pavilion, nothing was outwardly different since Live Nation and Ticketmaster joined forces. The same hassle getting into the venue off of Rio Bravo Boulevard occurred—you’d think one day they would realize 10,000 plus concert goers were coming and would have a better traffic pattern in place. Rush came out promptly at 7:45 p.m.—this was the opening North American concert on their 2010 Time Machine Tour. The band sounded good as they opened with “The Spirit of Radio” and played a couple of unrecorded new songs in the first set as well, but I kept getting distracted by the young women constantly selling Jagermeister shots.

A recent phenomenon in outdoor beverage concession sales is roving sales teams of ladies bringing “Jager Shots” to your seat. At first it seemed as normal as the beer and soda sellers, employees wading through the crowds to save you from having to wait in line. But the frequency of seeing them pass by with trays of test-tube size shots was surprising. There will be no moralizing from me on people who choose to get high or feelin’ good on beer, wine or pot at concerts. I personally enjoy a few beers as much as anyone, but the constant effort Pavilion employees were involved in to sell as much “Jager”as possible seems to me to have crossed the line. No one forces you to buy shots at a concert, but this easy access “service” just seems potentially dangerous for others. Let’s see, tickets ranging from $49.00 to $150.00, $25.00 T-Shirts, $8.50 beers, $13.00 hamburgers with chips and a soda is not enough profit from 10,000 people? Why don’t we all tip the Jager ladies $1.00, BUT DON’T BUY THE JAGER SHOTS. I contacted the Pavilion management office and they refused to answer any questions or comment on their concession/alcohol policies.

Rush has created a unique sound where hard rock and progressive rock have blended together. Some people are there for the radio hits like “Tom Sawyer” or “Freewill”; others like me enjoyed the longer instrumental pieces. They played the entirety of their 1981 “Moving Pictures” album in the second set, but they aren’t just a nostalgia band like ’70s stalwarts Crosby Steals the Cash or Chicago. Rush has been rewarded with one of the most loyal followings in Rock history by continuing to release new CDs and always introducing new songs to their performances. After 36 years of being onstage together, these three musicians show no signs of slowing down. As much as I liked what Rush was playing, I decided not to fight the crowds back to I-25 and left near the end of the concert. I’d also had my fill of Jagermeister, without ever buying a shot.
-Jim Webb
webbjuice@comcast.net

Doll By Doll: Gypsy Blood; Lew Lewis

The Secret Museum
Michael Mooney & Jim Webb

Doll By Doll

“I see the bars of your prison when you cry.”

Released in the early morning of the Thatcher era, “Gypsy Blood” is a towering monument to the failure of Punk. Working loosely within the Classic Rock idiom, on this recording (their second LP, following the speed-fueled sonic claustrophobia of “Remember”—a relentless, dualistic masterpiece of horror and beauty) Doll By Doll blended elements of pub-rock, doo-wop, folk, country, psychedelia, gospel, early-’60s pop melodrama and the Velvet Underground, added their own unique guitar ferocity (albeit tempered here) and a late-’70s dynamic production sheen (think “Born To Run” or “Bat Out Of Hell.”) The result is a singular work of breathtaking magnificence, capped by the sweeping power of Jackie Leven’s vocals.

This record simply sounds like no other. From the 1-2 radio-friendly punch of “Teenage Lightning” and the title track, through the majestic “Stripshow,” “The Human Face” and “Highland Rain,” and finally the unsettled and unsettling “Endgame” and “When A Man Dies,” Doll By Doll achieve that rarest of aims: absolute timelessness. The album could have been recorded in 1969, or last week. That it evokes a Britain (and Europe) about to disappear forever is the only clue to its moment in time.

Roundly ignored upon release (the album was un-issued in the U.S.), the failure of “Gypsy Blood” signaled the coming musical backslide—Spandau Ballet were just around the corner—that the English record buying public willingly accepted. 30 years later, it still stands alone, reflective of a time when music took chances and changed lives.
Michael Mooney


“The Devil of Dreams is Black”

Why is this record so different and important that you should immediately pop round the local shop to order a copy? If I rave about how brilliant “Gypsy Blood” is, I risk becoming just another fanatic trumpeting his favorite group. But there is truly something special about Doll By Doll, a U.K. rock band from the late ’70s/early ’80s led by singer, guitarist and main writer Jackie Leven. Two guitars, bass and drums were the basic components, playing in a straightforward rock style that we’ve all heard before. They are musically tight as a group and play with passion. The magic for me, however, lies in two things that elevate this band from hundreds of others who suddenly appeared on the late ’70s scene.

Jackie Leven’s vocals are unique and will have you on the edge of your seat with the passage of each song, wondering where he will soar to next. I won’t compare him to Roy Orbison, or other celestial-voiced wonders, because, while he has taken on many influences (as Gypsies do), what comes out of his mouth is ALL Leven ALL the time. Jackie’s range is unbelievable and he has the gift of a classic saloon singer for putting across real depth and emotion.

The other aspect of this band that is so enjoyable to me is the subject matter. These are no run-of-the-mill tunes about whiskey, women or life on the road. Leven writes from an idiosyncratic perspective that makes his lyrics so much more interesting than anyone else’s. He will walk that lonely street and, by the time he reaches the next corner, you will feel that his world and yours are one. “Stripshow” is one of the most powerful songs I have ever heard in over 40 years of listening to music. On “The Human Face,” Jackie sings about knowing why Jesus wept (for the next 30 years he’ll continue to unravel that particular mystery in his solo career). You may at times find yourself close to weeping, too, at the beauty of this music.

Jackie’s like an insomniac bus driver, cruising the late-night streets. His passengers are the tired, the hurt and the truth seekers. He lets you know you’re not alone, and the common bonds we all share of joy and despair are illuminated by him in a way that reminds us of the beauty of everyday life. No matter how you’re feeling when you get on his bus, by the time you arrive at your stop, life has become a more interesting ride.

1979 brought us a lot of great new music, but, in my opinion, “Gypsy Blood” battles The Clash’s “London Calling” for best LP honors. I vote for “Gypsy Blood.” Get this CD if you like rock music that has power and intensity, yet travels down a different path. You will not be disappointed.
-Jim Webb

Lew Lewis & The Perfect Day

On Friday July 14, 1979, I was a 20-year-old American living in Holland Park, London, and working full time at a restaurant called BJ’s Roast Beef on Fulham Road near Chelsea. I was in the middle of a six-month visit to England; no definite plans, just soaking up as much of the British culture as possible (including the beer), before returning home. There was a lot of great music in London that summer; it was hard to choose who to see on any given night. From where I lived it was about a 15 minute walk to one of the main music clubs in West Kensington called The Nashville, a famous pub that from 1976 to 1980 had a lot of bands play there like The Sex Pistols and Elvis Costello. A co-worker had mentioned earlier that we had to see a guy called Lew Lewis that evening, so we met up around six o’clock and started walking toward the venue. We were still too young to have any real problems in the world; whatever we made each week at our jobs we happily spent all of by the next Friday. There were no bills or mortgage payments to fret about, no responsibilities. Looking back, I’m surprised we didn’t float away, we had so little worries to tie us down. As we got closer to the pub, a young man on a bicycle went past us; my friend Keith said, “Hey, that’s Lew Lewis.”

Canvey Island is about 30 miles east of London, a mostly working class area in Essex that is known to music fans as the home of Pub Rock legend Dr. Feelgood. Pub Rock was a back-to-basics approach to music that had its peak around 1973–75 in the U.K., and in part was a reaction to Glam Rock (David Bowie, T. Rex) and some of the pretentious excesses found in huge bands like Pink Floyd and Yes. Most of the Country-Rock influenced pub bands never had a lot of mass appeal, but groups like Eddie & The Hot Rods and Dr. Feelgood drew bigger crowds with their high energy live shows, helping clear the decks for the coming Punk/New Wave explosion. Nick Lowe, Ian Dury, Declan McManus (Elvis Costello), and Graham Parker are some of the names that served time in the pubs before finding a bigger audience in the late ’70s.

Lew Lewis was a harmonica playing maniac from Canvey Island who became an early member of Eddie & The Hot Rods in 1973. He ultimately tried to make it with his own band, scuffling around before signing with Stiff Records, which released his only album, titled “Save the Wail,” in 1979. I saw him twice that summer of ’79 and I can still picture him soaking his harmonicas in a pint glass and then flipping them wildly above his head as the band played ferociously behind him. He would spin around in mid song several times before sticking his hand out and pulling the harp out of the air to his mouth, quickly blowing some intense solos without missing a beat. He wasn’t a great singer and his record label had a hard time marketing a young, white Chicago Blues style harmonica player. This was the era when New Wave bands ruled with skinny ties and Power Pop’s jingle reverberated all around the world. Lew disappeared for a while and in 1987 made some minor headlines when he was sentenced to seven years in prison for holding up a post office with a fake gun. He’s had a number of illness and addiction issues throughout the last 15 years, but recently was still trying to get a new band together. He might’ve been just a bit player in the 1973–1985 U.K. music scene, but it’s people like Lew Lewis that add the unpredictable excitement that makes great rock music possible.

Music has so much to offer us as listeners. There is the pure enjoyment of organized sound and rhythms, as well as getting into the history of a given style of music and hearing the reflection of the era from which it came. We all have certain songs that, when we hear them, magically transport us back in time. They might take you back to your wedding, or a graduation day from school; they can be a powerful reminder of any period in your life. I’ve been happily married for 28 years and now have three beautiful daughters, but when I hear the music of Lew Lewis, it’s July of 1979 again. I’m single and 20 years old, walking down the Cromwell Road in West Kensington, London. I don’t have a care in the world.
-Jim Webb