Concert capsules are immediate, extemporaneous pieces; less a review and more a reaction.
I’ve never seen a show like this before.
Shortly after 8 p.m., Lucinda Williams shuffled onstage with a warning: she’d suffered a stroke and wouldn’t be playing guitar. The evening would also incorporate stories about her songs, drawing on Williams’ recent (excellent) memoir. Seated in a chair, the stories tended to ramble and the vocals were feeble.
More than two and a half hours later, (nearly as long as Beyoncé’s set at Arrowhead last week) Williams was standing, tearing through “Joy” with youthful vigor. How did this happen?
Buick 6, Williams’ stellar four-piece backing band, and the crowd at the Uptown Theater deserve most of the credit. Buick 6 handled missed vocal cues and lapses with ease, keeping the song going until Williams could climb back in.
The comfortably crowded audience was pin-drop silent during the stories and demonstratively supportive when Williams faltered or questioned if she was doing a good job (which happened several times). The audience never left her side, shouting encouragement at the right times and patiently allowing one of the most accomplished songwriters of her generation to do her thing.
The set list contained deep cuts, such as “Pineola” and “Crescent City,” Bob Dylan and Hank Williams covers and favorites “Car Wheels on a Gravel Road” and “Those Three Days.”
It’s been 48 hours since my sister and I experienced what one friend called the Barbenheimer of concerts. On Sunday, Oct. 1 we saw the final show of Beyonce’s Renaissance tour at Arrowhead Stadium. The next night, we caught the second performance of Bob Dylan’s two-night tour opener at the Midland Theater.
The two experiences were as dichotomous as you would expect. Beyoncé continues to operate at the peak of her powers as an artist and performer. The nearly three-hour show didn’t start until almost 10 p.m. and was a feast for the senses, including a massive high-definition video screen as wide as a football field.
Dylan started promptly at 8 p.m. and left the stage one hour and 45 minutes later, just a few minutes shy of 24 hours after Beyoncé’s start. His stage was austere, consisting of a few lamps, mainly decorated with a line of road cases along the back of the stage, resting impatiently in front of an unadorned black brick wall.
At 82 years old, Dylan’s glory days are clearly behind him. He led a four-piece band from behind a baby grand piano. His voice, never sonorous, was surprisingly clear in the mix. Dylan thanked the crowd several times between songs. It was clear these shows were special to him.
There were several moments when despite playing together for years, Dylan and his band failed to gel. Momentum would hiccup in the transition between chorus and verse, or never quite materialize at all. Dylan also hit quite a few bum notes on his piano, which was prominent in the clean mix.
This isn’t to denigrate Dylan’s performance in any way. A late-set delivery of “Mother of Muses” was captivating. Other strong moments included a completely rearranged “Gotta Serve Somebody” and the classic “When I Paint My Masterpiece.” A version of “To Be Alone With You” showed the influence of Little Richard.
If there is one through-line between Dylan and Beyoncé’s performances it is a commitment to new material. Dylan played all but one song from his latest album, Rough and Rowdy Ways. Beyoncé delivered all 16 songs from Renaissance. Fans hoping to hear classics from Blood on the Tracks or hits “Halo” and “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)” were out of luck.
The Houston-born diva sprinkled “Love on Top,” “Drunk on Love” and a shortened version of “Formation” among her 37-song set.
One of the night’s strongest moments came when Beyoncé introduced her daughter Blue Ivy at the end of “Run the World (Girls).” The 11-year-old had no problem picking up her mother’s metaphorical baton, dancing with a skill that showed she has probably been working with choreographers since before she could walk.
Renaissance is a celebration of positivity that embraces all body shapes, colors, genders and orientations. A stadium filled with fans that heeded Queen Bey’s call to wear something silver shimmied and sparkled along with Renaissance’s resilient disco beats as costumes, sets and props changed throughout the night.
As Sunday marched proudly into Monday, Beyoncé’s troupe seemed indefatigable. The sensory smorgasbord concluded with a trailer for the upcoming movie made from the tour. A promise of more to come. The concert was ending, but the performance would be immortal.
Dylan, in contrast, walked humbly out from behind his piano at the conclusion of a moving rendition of “Every Grain of Sand.” He stood slightly stage right of center and soaked in the applause for a few moments before humbly bowing and ambling offstage. There was no encore. No guarantee his once seemingly never-ending tour would carry him back through town. This may not have been goodbye, but it felt a lot like farewell.
Concert capsules are immediate, extemporaneous pieces; less a review and more a reaction.
I’ve seen Ben Folds a little more than a half-dozen times in several configurations, but last night’s show at the Uptown Theater was easily the best performance I’ve seen him give. Opening act Tall Heights also served as part of Folds’ band (that’s them on the riser in the back). Including an acoustic guitar and cello added fresh textures to the songs and opened new avenues for instrumental interplay.
The sold-out crowd was also on point, effortlessly handling Regina Spektor’s part on “You Don’t Know Me” and nailing the three-part harmony on “Not the Same,” a Folds staple.
While nearly half of the 90-minute set drew from What Matters Most, Folds’ first album of new material in eight years, the crowd stayed engaged and enthusiastic.
For the encore, Folds returned with a solo version of “Zak and Sara,” with a little harmony help from High Trees on the last verse and chorus. This lead into two more songs from Folds’ solo debut, now more than 20 years old. A gentle “Still Fighting It” gave way to a raucous singalong on “Anne Waits.”
“The Train” is a stand-out song on an otherwise unmemorable (but not horrible) Outkast album. Released in 2006, Idlewild turned out to be Outkast’s final album.
By Joel Francis The Daily Record
A few weeks ago, Rolling Stone made a list. It seems like that’s all they do these days, mainly because it’s too darn hard to get anyone to pay attention to what you’re saying unless it’s in a list or a Tik Tok video. (Old man yells at clouds, shakes fist.)
This time Rolling Stone made a pretty good list, 50 Genuinely Horrible Albums by Brilliant Artists. As I read the list, I was struck by how many of these albums I either currently own or have owned at one point. Thankfully, the number wasn’t as high as I feared, but it still comprised just under 25% of the total.
Masochist that I am, I thought it would be fun to walk through the 11 genuinely horrible albums by brilliant artists that have found their way into my collection at one way or another. I sold off or traded in 99% of my CD collection many years ago, just before the disc bubble collapsed, so only five of these titles are part of my current music library. The number by the album is where Rolling Stone has ranked it.
50. The Who – It’s Hard
As a fan of The Who in general and Pete Townshend’s songwriting in particular, I own all of the Who’s studio albums on LP, including this one. Aside from the OK single “Athena” and incredible “Eminence Front,” I knew this wasn’t a gem when I bought it for about $5. It was also the last of the historical Who albums I purchased. (I’ve since picked up the band’s 2019 self-titled album.)
49. Billy Joel – The Bridge
I got this as part of a budget-priced, triple-pack of CDs in college. The other two albums in the set were The Nylon Curtain and Storm Front. Released in 1982, The Nylon Curtain contains “Allentown,” “Pressure” and “Goodnight Saigon,” a poignant portrait of Vietnam and one of Joel’s best story-songs. Storm Front has “We Didn’t Start the Fire” and isn’t as good as you remember, although my mom, and everyone else’s, loved “And So It Goes.”
While the cliché says that you can’t judge a book by its cover, the artwork for The Bridge should have been my first warning. The horrible pastels scream waiting room or budget hotel lobby, which is probably the most appropriate space for these bland songs. “A Matter of Trust” was the big single, and the duet with Ray Charles on “Baby Grand” is the album’s high point. In retrospect, I should have removed The Nylon Curtain from this set and gifted the other two discs to the person at the register
48. Van Halen – Van Halen III
Van Halen was my favorite band in high school. One of the first concerts I saw was Van Halen on the Right Here, Right Now tour in 1993. I saw the band again on the Balance tour two years later, and caught Sammy Hagar’s first post-Van Halen tour in 1997. When Eddie and company came back through town in support of this album, you know I couldn’t miss them. My favorite part of the night was hearing bass player Michael Anthony sing “Somebody Get Me a Doctor,” which probably says all you need to know about new singer Gary Cherone and the VHIII material performed. I revisited the entire Van Halen catalog after Eddie’s passing a couple years ago and, yeah, aside from the instrumental opening and lead single “Without You,” there’s nothing memorable happening here.
Incidentally, that 1998 show was the last time I saw Eddie in concert. Don’t feel too sorry for me – I did catch Chickenfoot.
46. Outkast – Idlewild
Planning a wedding is a lot of work. As a longtime Outkast fan, I jumped at the chance in the late summer of 2006 to take a break from planning my upcoming wedding, sit in the air conditioning and think of nothing but the magical story unfolding on the movie screen in front of me. It worked. For two hours, I didn’t think of the wedding. I haven’t really thought about the movie Idlewild since.
Speakerboxx/The Love Below was packed with so many great ideas, that some residual creativity had to seep into the grooves of the Idlewild soundtrack, right? I remember the singles off this album being pretty good. At least good enough to buy this LP at Amoeba on sale when my wife and I were in Los Angeles on vacation. Although I haven’t played my copy in years, Idlewild strikes me more as forgettable than horrible.
44. R.E.M. – Around the Sun
On Tuesday, October 5, 2004, I bought Around the Sun and Real Gone, the new Tom Waits album also released that day, on my lunch break. After work, some friends an I piled into a car and headed to Columbia, Mo., to see the recently reformed Pixies in concert. The two discs were the perfect soundtrack for the two-hour car ride.
Around the Sun definitely took some of the buzz out of that evening. It seemed uninspired upon first listen and the water-treading live album the band released as the follow-up seemed to confirm they felt the same way. I added “Leaving New York” to my 72-song, nearly five-hour R.E.M. playlist, but the chorus lyric of “leaving was never my proud” always stains the song for me. My favorite track is the one everyone seems to hate, “The Outsiders,” with Q-Tip. Tip’s laid-back delivery is the perfect complement to Michael Stipe’s singing. Who could deny Peter Buck’s simple but fantastic guitar part? “Final Straw” is pretty good, too, but I haven’t given the other 10 songs on the album any thought. As the only R.E.M. album I don’t own on LP, I would buy this again if it was reissued. I’m sure the queue at the register would be very short, which I why I don’t expect this to get the 20th anniversary treatment next year.
42. The Clash – Cut the Crap
Loyal readers may have noticed this site is a bitferventin itsadoration ofJoe Strummer. Dedicated Clash fans know the band’s manager Bernie Rhodes ruined the songs on Cut the Crap with chintzy, dated production that embarrassed all the musicians involved.
But …. OK, there is no but. The song “This is England” is the Clash’s final masterpiece. Put it, “Dirty Punk,” “Three Card Trick” and “North and South” with “This is England” on an EP and there still might be one song too many. I own all of Joe Strummer’s albums, so I own Cut the Crap, but honestly, I play the Walker soundtrack more often. You can read more about my thoughts on Cut the Crap and the two tribute albums it inspired, Re-Cutting the Crap.
41. Genesis – Calling All Stations
At this point, I’ve owned seven of the 10 albums on this list. I guess if you’re going to own a bunch of horrible albums, you want them to be the least horrible from the lot, right? Thankfully, I only have four of the subsequent 40 titles.
Invisible Touch, a very, very not-horrible album, was percolating just as I was starting to discover popular music in late elementary school and junior high. By the time We Can’t Dance came out, I was in high school and knew the score. I was looking forward to seeing Genesis on that tour, but they skipped Kansas City, Mo., and headed to Ames, Iowa, instead. Ames is only three hours from Kansas City, but when you’re 15 and don’t have a car, Ames may as well be Mars.
In the six years between We Can’t Dance and Calling All Stations, Genesis lost Phil Collins and – shades of Van Halen III – brought in a relatively unknown singer to fill the void. There are a few good moments on this album. The title song and singles “Shipwrecked” and “Congo” are solid. “The Dividing Line” rock harder than anything the band had done since Duke (even if the lyrics leave a bit to be desired).
The silver lining in Calling All Stations was that this new iteration of Genesis had exhumed several classic, long-overlooked songs for the tour. Not that anyone would in the United States would hear them. Poor ticket sales ended the tour – and singer Ray Wilson’s tenure in the band – in Europe. It would be almost 25 years until I experienced Genesis in concert, finally checking that long-vacant box on my wish list. (By the way, Rolling Stone also has a recent interview with Wilson that is well worth your time.)
35. Pete Townshend – Psychoderelict
I bought this from the cut-out bargain bin at Best Buy for a buck.
That should be where the story ends, but it doesn’t. A few years later, I bought the dialogue-free edition of Psychderelict for five bucks or so at the used CD store. Freed from the radio-drama acting of the first version, Townshend’s songs breathed a little bit more. That said, I haven’t really given Pscyhoderelict much thought since jettisoning it from the collection.
34. Aerosmith – Nine Lives
If nothing else, this exercise proves that I remain a loyal fan well past the sell-by date. After discovering Aerosmith in junior high through the song “The Other Side” and seeing the band four long years later on the Get a Grip tour as a high school student, I was primed primed for whatever the band wanted to give me next. Unfortunately, what they gave me, four years later, as a college student, was Nine Lives. Lead single “Falling In Love (Is Hard on the Knees)” felt like it was trying too hard (although the horn arrangement is fantastic). The second single, “Hole in my Soul” was a retread of the “Crazy”/”Cryin’” ballad formula that worked so well earlier in the decade.
To quote Cousin Eddie in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, “If that thing had nine lives, she just spent them all.”
Nine Lives got some spins the spring it came out and over the summer, but by the time everyone returned to campus in the fall it had been replaced in my rotation by the Chemical Brothers’ Dig Your Own Hole, Coil from Toad the Wet Sprocket and Wyclef’s The Carnival.
12. Van Morrison – Latest Record Project, Volume 1
Van Morrison is a legend, but he’s also a legendary crank. When my then-fiancée and I travelled to Washington, D.C., to watch him perform in the summer of 2006, a large digital clock sat at the extreme edge of stage left, pointed toward the center. It started at 90:00 and by the time it hit 0:00 Van the Man was walking off the stage.
The title alone is reason to see Morrison’s 42nd studio album as nothing more than a cynical cash grab. But it was a cynical cash grab with solid marketing. I bought this triple-LP set because it promised to be signed by Van himself. Since I couldn’t picture Morrison going down the line, signing autographs for fans (his limo zipped right past me after the D.C. concert), this seemed to be the best option. So now I have Van Morrison’s autograph. And an album I’ve only played partially. You know what they say about a fool and his money.
I have three items in defense of Latest Record Project:
The autographed edition the autographed edition was the same price as the unsigned version.
I have more albums by Bob Dylan than anyone else in my record collection. I have all of Bob Dylan’s records, including Triplicate, a three-LP set of Dylan singing standards (which is also his third standards album), Self-Portrait and Dylan, a mid-‘70s collection of outtakes from the dreadful Self-Portrait album. Is Down in the Groove worse than those albums? Rolling Stone seems to think so. I don’t feel compelled to play them all in succession and find out. In for a penny, in for a pound.
In the new Beatles documentary series Get Back, on the first day of filming after guitarist George Harrison abruptly walked out of rehearsal and left the band, Paul McCartney made a prescient observation:
“It’s going to be such an incredible sort of comical thing, in like 50 years’ time, you know. They (the Beatles) broke up because Yoko (Ono) sat on an amp.”
For far too long, Yoko Ono has been painted as the villain the Beatles story, The person who turned John Lennon’s heart away from the band and drove a wedge in his partnership with McCartney.
Obviously, these accusations are rooted in misogyny, racism, and ignorance. More importantly, they are now also clearly wrong. Regardless of how the other Beatles felt about Lennon bringing Ono into the band’s inner circle, everyone in the group is clearly over it by the time the cameras started rolling for Get Back. And sure, one could argue that the Fabs were just pretending to enjoy Ono for the sake of the cameras, but if you’ve seen Give My Regards to Broad Street you know McCartney isn’t that good of an actor.
Besides, Ono was far from the only visitor to the Beatles’ sessions. McCartney’s fiancé Linda Eastman and Ringo Starr’s wife Maureen Starkey both show up and hang out while the band is working. George’s small entourage of Hare Krishnas are seen observing the band at work. Eastman’s daughter, Heather, tags along with McCartney while the band works during a weekend session. If Yoko’s mere presence was such a burden, wouldn’t bringing a child into the studio be out of the question? Nevertheless, everyone seemingly has fun dancing and playing with Heather.
Furthermore, McCartney is an active participant in not one, but two spontaneous, extended jam sessions where Ono took the mic and lead the way. He appears to be enjoying the moment and the music that comes out of these jams is some of the most riveting, cutting-edge material in the film.
I grew up reading that the sessions at Twickenham Studio were when the band was falling apart and that it was only by moving to Apple Corps headquarters and inviting Billy Preston to participate that the Beatles were saved. Get Back complicates this mythology. Granted, the Beatles seem more comfortable and friendly once they are at home at Apple and Preston joins, but Lennon and McCartney’s relationship is never in doubt for a moment. In fact, many of my favorite moments in the documentary was watching those two bounce ideas around at lighting speed only to fly off on a random tangent and somehow remain in lockstep the entire time.
As for the Beatles growing a part as musicians, Lennon and Harrison discuss this in the third part of Get Back. After working on “All Things Must Pass” and “Let It Down” the day before the famous rooftop concert, Harrison told Lennon about all the songs he’d written.
“I’ve got so many songs that I’ve got, like, my quota of tunes for the next ten years, or albums,” Harrison said. “I’d just like to do maybe an album of songs.”
Lennon asks Harrison if he means this to be a solo album, which Harrison confirms. The two seem to agree on how solo projects could co-exist with the Beatles.
“You see it’s good if we put out an LP and it’s safe that The Beatles are together, but George is doing an album,” Lennon said. “Same thing as me doing an album.”
Harrison picked up the thread.
“That way it also preserves this, the Beatle bit of it, more,” Harrison replied.
So, if Yoko is not obviously disruptive and the Beatles were clearly open to a looser unit where partners, family, friends, and musical collaborators could come and go without undermining some special Beatles magic, we must look elsewhere for reasons for the Beatles’ falling out. Get Back shows that the Lennon-McCartney partnership is still working. And there seems to be enough flexibility within the group for solo projects to exist alongside Beatles releases. So, why did the Beatles break up? The answer to this question never appears on-camera in Get Back, but he lurks in the shadows of the second and third parts.
Two days before the rooftop performance, Lennon arrives at rehearsals glowing over his conversation with Allen Klein the night before. Klein is the Rolling Stones current manager and managed Sam Cooke before the Stones. One of Klein’s major calling cards was that he would bulldog the labels into giving his artists everything they were owed (lining his own pockets in the process). Klein wormed his way into Lennon’s heart by talking about a benefit concert for the war-torn Republic of Biafra.
“He knows what we’re like, you know, just from the pick-up,” Lennon gushed. “I mean, he said he had to see me to know exactly if he was right or not. But the way he described each one of us, you know, and what we’d done and what we’re going to do, and that …. He knows me as much as you do. Incredible guy. We (Lennon and Ono) were both just stunned.”
Lennon is still talking about this conversation with Klein the next day as well. Producer Glyn Johns knew Klein from his work with the Rolling Stones.
“I don’t know if he speaks to you the same way as he does other people – perhaps not, because you’re who you are,” Johns said. “But he can take anything you say, if he disagrees with it … I don’t know … he can convince anybody of anything. I mean, I could say this piano is black, you see, right, and in five minutes he’d have me believing it was green.”
Klein came to the Beatles in a vulnerable moment. The group established Apple Corps as tax shelter, but were hemorrhaging money. Klein promised to fix Apple’s financial problems and end the days of the Beatles being played as suckers.
A few days after meeting with Lennon, Klein met with the rest of the band. Lennon was already on board, but his enthusiasm pulled Harrison and Starr on board as well. McCartney was suspicious of Klein and wanted very little to do with him.
McCartney tried to persuade his bandmates to sign with Lee Eastman, his father-in-law. Smelling nepotism, the other three declined. Lusting for the whole Beatles enchilada, Klein made the relationship between himself and Eastman as rocky as possible, pitting his three clients against McCartney. Ultimately, McCartney had to sue Lennon, Harrison, and Starr to dissolve the Beatles partnership.
Ironically, while Klein was gunning for the Beatles, his other clients, the Rolling Stones, were growing dissatisfied. Never one to leave money on the table, Mick Jagger was suspicious of how Klein always managed to turn a personal profit in the band’s business affairs. In 1970, the same year McCartney was suing the other Beatles, Jagger announced Klein was no longer the Stones’ manager.
By the middle of 1972, Harrison and Lennon were fed up with Klein as well. Klein helped Harrison organize a benefit concert like the one that had enchanted Lennon. Harrison’s groundbreaking Concert for Bangladesh at Madison Square Garden brought out some of the biggest names in music and resulting in a triple-album set and film that raised millions.
Unfortunately, Klein botched the paperwork, which meant Harrison had to pay taxes on the amount raised. It also came to light that Klein was making more than $1 from each copy of the live album, which sold for $10. Lennon was upset that Klein wouldn’t give Ono’s career the same support and attention that he gave the other former Beatles. In 1973, Lennon, Harrison and Starr announced they wouldn’t renew Klein’s contract.
“Let’s say possibly Paul’s suspicions were right,” Lennon admitted at the time.
Is it fair to blame the Beatles demise on Klein? In the short term, he made the band a lot of money, but he lined his own pockets with some of it and refused to cooperate with McCartney and Eastman. McCartney could have done himself a favor and selected someone other than his father-in-law as an option to manage the band. It’s also important to note that the Beatles were all in their late 20s at the time Klein entered their lives. Twenty-something millionaires aren’t known for their prudence.
Given that so-called “creative differences” were never the problem in the Beatles, it should not be a surprise that the Get Back/Let It Be sessions were musically successful. What is surprising it that this project and the band’s final masterpiece Abbey Road were able to happen at all while the band struggled with the financial and managerial issues that clearly taxed their native capacity and opened them up to opportunists and sharks.
Ono has unfairly been blamed for breaking up the Beatles for far too long. It’s time to shift the criticism onto the smooth-talking accountant who slimed his way into the band and succeeded in pitting the musicians against each other. More than any other single person, Allen Klein broke up the Beatles.
In a previous life, Dave Tanner and I worked as reporters at sister newspapers in suburban Kansas City. He always had a positive spirit and was eager to talk out about music whenever our paths crossed.
When another friend and reporter suggested we drive across Missouri to see Ringo’s All-Starr Band at the Fox Theater in St. Louis, Tanner and I jumped at the chance. The three of us drove to the show, drove home afterward and were back at work the next morning, because we were young and could do things like that back then.
Since then, Tanner has become one of the best Paul McCartney stand-ins in Beatles tribute bands across the country. When the pandemic halted his touring – Tanner estimated he played 155 shows and was gone for 200 days in 2019 – Tanner turned to his backlog of songs and decided to record an album of his own material.
The album (and band) name Passerine Dream came from a songbird Tanner kept running across in his hobby as an amateur birdwatcher and bird photographer. (Those are his photos on the album.)
Tanner was kind enough to talk through each track on the album with The Daily Record during a break while performing in Georgia with the group Liverpool Legends. In the spring of 2022, the Liverpool Legends will set up shop in the Andy Williams Moon River Theater in Branson, Mo.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
“Be Together”
“The first complete song of words and music that I ever wrote. I wrote it on an acoustic guitar, which was tuned to the tuning McCartney uses on Yesterday, D standard. It is that way because I had that guitar sitting around from my live shows. I added bass to it for demo purposes. Another band I was in called The Depth and Whisper recorded it and played it live quite a few years ago. I used it as an icebreaker to break in the new album.”
“Little Dreams”
“I had a little guitar lick that I’ve been messing around with for a couple years. I don’t know what exactly came into my head other than those first couple of lines when I was sitting there with a guitar. The first verse about came about through conversations with other birders, about how suburbia creates a completely unnatural ecosystem for wildlife. Cutting down grass helps sparrow, starling and robins survive. There are billions of these birds we have enabled to fill up our back yards. They are at war, but there is hope in everything that waits. Everyone wakes up thinking today could be the day I catch a break.
“When I took the thumb drive containing these tracks into the first mixing session, the files were corrupted (laughs). I had a sort-of, almost buried piano part on there so (producer) Paul (Malinowski) said let’s make this a piano ballad now. He started taking the covering off this amazing baby grand and started miking it up. He told me, you’re going to play that (song) on this (piano). I was like (deep breath) OK, here we go. Steve Davis from Liverpool played the slide solo.”
“On and On”
“’On and On’ is an old song I’ve had kicking around in my demo files for a long time. The roots of some of these songs go back pretty far. I knew I had an acoustic guitar and multi-layered vocal breakdown recorded years earlier. Eric Voeks arranged that middle part, where he and I each sing multiple layers.
“It was going to be really stripped down, just acoustic guitars and voices. I sent it to my boss with Liverpool Legends, Marty Scott. He said it needs drums and that it had R.E.M. and Jellyfish written all over it. I just went with it. I didn’t want to talk myself out of it.
“I wrote the lyrics on an airplane flying to and from a gig. The hum of the aircraft gave me a melody and I started writing them down as fast as I could. They came flooding to me pretty quick. I’m amazed at how that song went from stripped-down demo to a 12-string (guitar) and rockin’ drum beat.”
“Driver”
“I wrote ‘Driver’ in one day, music and lyrics. I started it, say, maybe, 10 in the morning. By 2 in the afternoon I had a five-and-a-half-minute demo cut.
“The well-intentioned narrator in the opening few lines, he wants to do what’s right. He’s also at the mercy of life and substance. Something happens to him. I had more stanzas, but I edited them down. It was becoming too (Bob) Dylan-esque for me, getting too long and laborious. What got cut out leaves it open to as to what happens to the narrator. He has a moment where he triumphs – his willpower and the love of his life win the day.”
“Hometown”
“’Hometown’ is based on a few phrases and things my dad told me when I was leaving home. I grew up in a small town in Ontario, although I’ve lived in Missouri for quite a number of years. He basically said, if things don’t work out, my door is always open. Go into the world and do your thing. Without that confidence, I would have stayed in Ontario.
“My dad passed in 2014 and I had some of (the song) written then. I finished it for this album. It was an emotional song to sing. I know it’s a peppy kind of a song, (with a) driving beat and guitar riffs. When I was trying to lay down the vocal tracks, it took me quite a few days. The first couple days I tried to do it I couldn’t make it through.
“John Perrin, the current drummer for NRBQ, plays drums on this. On backing vocals is my friend Erik Voeks. I was stuck on what kind of vocal harmony use and it was starting to interfere with the melody. I sent the song to Erik and he was kind enough to send a suite of backing vocals. I wanted to see what others could do because I was hitting a brick wall.”
“Path of Least Resistance”
“This one came from a couplet in an old notebook. I had a vague melody going and it came together pretty quickly during the recording process. I thought to balance the album, I should have another rocker and so I kind of wrote it that way, to drive a little bit. I sent the tempo and chords to Marty and he pounded out a great drum part in his home studio. He sent that back to me and I layered a few more things on here. It’s my own voice, rhythm and creation, but it does harken back to right about 1980 or ’81, something that might have been around then. It balances out the album pretty well. I couldn’t think of the album without having that rocker.”
“Breaking Through”
Dave Tanner
“This song was written during the period of 2020 when I was fighting with self-doubt and depression. I started asking myself when are we going to break through? Even as humanity, we’ve got to break through somehow again. The next revolution has got to be in our minds, to look forward and break through all the monotony, hate, self-loathing and rancor out there.
“People started asking if the song is about coming out of the pandemic and I guess it kind of is. We’ve gone to the edges, the highs and the lows. We can psychologically put ourselves anywhere, we can go down or give ourselves hope.”
“Feel/My Heart”
“It comes from an original demo called ‘Feel.’ I had that opening guitar hook and verse and chorus. The melodic part just came to me – something to lift the chorus. Without that, the song is at one level. It shows the narrator is affected and uplifted by how the other person makes them feel. Sometimes you can’t do it with words.
“When I was laying down the groundwork, I had two minutes left on the click track after I was done with the song. Rather than just erase it, I thought I’d try to write another two minutes, so I wrote the poem ‘My Heartbeat,’ where the narrator actually finds the words. I was pretty proud of that, because the first part of the song sounds unrequited, not necessarily finding the words, but then there’s a love poem at the end. The words were there the whole time. Marty Scott played drums and I did the rest.”
“Opened Your Eyes”
“I had a demo called ‘When You Opened Your Eyes Today.’ It had some guitar chords and asked some questions. It pointed inward a little bit: Who are you going to be today? Musically it’s almost a little haunting. Lyrically, it is about looking at one’s self and asking the question, when you step out into the world, what’s the deal? Where are you going? What are you going to do with your life?
“If you listen closely, there’s sort of a secret when those haunting background vocals enter in the second half of the track. Those are the attempts to answer those questions. In the first half I’m asking when you open your eyes, who are you going to be? The answer in the second half is myself. I’m going to be myself.
“The reason this song is last is that I had the other eight songs done and I saw if I was going to put this album out on vinyl, I still had some time to spare on side two. I went into my notebooks and pulled out these lyrics. It’s the last one on the album because it was the last song I worked on and I already had how the album was going to be in my head. It’s my own bonus track without being a bonus track.”
To purchase the Passerine Dream album or follow Tanner on social media, visit the band’s website.
Guitarist Matt Stubbs, a veteran of blues harpist Charlie Musselwhite’s band and one third of the new blues act GA-20, thinks it’s time for a blues revival.
After all, Stubbs reasons, soul music had its resurrection with Lee Fields, Sharon Jones and the Daptones. Traditional country had a resurgence with Coulter Wall and Charlie Crockett.
“What I’d like to see is more traditional blues,” Stubbs said. “I think if more people heard this style of blues, they would like it. That’s a lot of why we make the records we do and why I produce the as I do. We’ll have people come up to us after shows and ask ‘What kind of music is this?’ I tell them it’s traditional blues.”
Traditional blues is more raw and primitive than what came later, when blues musicians – who often also worked as sharecroppers – migrated north from Deep South in the 1940s and ‘50s, settling in Chicago, Detroit and other northern cities.
The primarily acoustic blues from the Mississippi Delta became electrified to overcome the noise in the clubs and on the street. British musicians heard this amplified blues, absorbed it and imported it back to the United States on early albums by the Rolling Stones, Yardbirds and Fleetwood Mac, to name just a few acts.
See GA-20 in Kansas City, Mo. at Knuckleheads on Tuesday, Nov. 2.
“These days, if you go to a blues festival, you get a lot of the modern blues or rock take,” Stubbs said. “A lot of great artists do that, but that’s not we are doing. That’s not what I put on my turntable. I think when a lot of people hear the word blues, they think of guitar shredding and music derived from British blues and classic rock.”
On their second album, GA-20 pay tribute to Hound Dog Taylor, a less-celebrated figure from the Chicago blues scene. Stubbs discovered Taylor when he heard “Give Me Back My Wig” on a blues CD at 15 or 16 years old. Stubbs said that song stood out because it was a little more rough around the edges.
“That’s the kind of blues that’s always spoken to me,” Stubbs said. “I like it to be kind of raw.”
Taylor is a good fit with GA-20 for several reasons. Like GA-20, Taylor’s band The Houserockers featured a lineup of two guitars and drums – no bass. GA-20 (named after a vintage guitar amplifier) and Taylor also both caught the ear of Bruce Iglauer, founder of the blues label Alligator Records.
“Bruce started the label because Hound Dog couldn’t get a record deal at the time,” Stubbs said. “Bruce saw us before the pandemic and was interested in working for us, but we were already signed to Colemine Records.”
Stubbs brainstormed ways to make something work and realized it was approaching the 50th anniversary of Alligator Records and Taylor’s first album. He came up with the idea for Colemine and Alligator to pair up and recognize those anniversaries.
Music was always present when Stubbs was growing up in Boston. His dad is also a guitarist and the young Stubbs was always listening to his father rehearse and perform. When Stubbs heard Lenny Kravitz’ “Are You Gonna Go My Way?” his dad told him if he liked that, he’d probably like Jimi Hendrix. That opened a door to Albert King and Freddie King.
“When I was 16, I joined my dad’s band,” Stubbs said. “I went to music college, dropped out and started gigging as much as possible.”
In his early 20s, Stubbs got the chance to join blues singer Janiva Magness. That lead to playing with John Németh. One of the musicians in Nemeth’s stable was June Core, longtime drummer for Charlie Musselwhite.
“When Charlie’s guitar player moved onto other things, Charlie called me up and asked if I wanted to play guitar,” Stubbs said. “There was no rehearsal.”
That was about 13 or 14 years ago, Stubbs guesses. GA-20 grew out of a year when Musselwhite went on the road with Ben Harper and his band for a year. With nothing to do, Stubbs formed another band with guitarist Pat Faherty so he could work.
“Pat was a friend who came to a lot of my shows. He was into other music before the blues,” Stubbs said. “We started with two guitars and a harmonica for a gig or two. It ended up morphing into drums and two guitars with no harmonica.
“We had to keep the band lean out of necessity to make money,” Stubbs continued. “We started to sound pretty good, so I booked some studio time to record that first album. There were no expectations, it was just a fun project.”
Those session resulted in Lonely Soul, GA-20’s debut release, which featured Musselwhite’s harp on one track and was released on Colemine. The album hit No. 2 on the Billboard blues chart in 2018. A four-song live EP came out in September, 2020, when live concerts were shut down.
Now Stubbs is back on the road with both GA-20 and Musselwhite. A European tour and several festival appearances in 2022 are currently in the works. Stubbs said he hopes to put out another GA-20 album in May.
GA-20 plays Knuckleheads with J.D. Simo on Tuesday, Nov. 2. Go here to buy tickets online and get more information.
“I think the only place I’ve played in Kansas City is Knuckleheads,” Stubbs said. “I was there with John Németh and Janiva Magness. I played there before the venue across the street (Knuckleheads Garage) was open.”
Joe Strummer, lyricist, lead singer and rhythm guitarist for The Clash died on December 22, 2002. By the time I found out it was late the next day. Every 24th of December since then, I have declared Clashmas Eve and dedicated to the memory of Strummer and the majesty of The Clash. This non-denominational holiday can – and should – be celebrated by all.
Joe Strummer and the Latino Rockabilly War – Permanent Record soundtrack (1988)
Joe Strummer only gets one side of this soundtrack, but he used it to re-establish himself as a solo artist and build anticipation for a proper, full album. In retrospect, I wonder if the Permanent Record didn’t work too well.
It’s true that none of the five songs here are going to replace “White Riot,” or even “Johnny Appleseed.” At the same time, there’s none of the sub-par material like “Ride Your Donkey” that mar Strummer’s eventual solo debut Earthquake Weather.
Most of the songs on Permanent Record are solid, straight-up rockers. Although “Trash City” stands out as the best track, “Baby the Trans” and “Nefertiti Rock” are also a lot of fun. “Theme from Permanent Record” is an instrumental with Strummer’s wordless vocals.
The biggest problem with both the Permanent Record material and Earthquake Weather is the weird ‘80s production that makes everything sound both flat and glossy at the same time. The energy of these performances really struggles to come through. I don’t know if the problem is in how the instruments were recorded or in the mix, but I would love someone to try clean up these remix them.
While I’m dreaming, there is another 10 minutes worth of outtakes from these sessions floating around on bootlegs. It would be nice to add them to this set and release everything as stand-alone EP.
In case you are wondering, the second side of this album finds the Stranglers covering the Kinks as well as original songs from Lou Reed, the Bo-Deans, J.D. Souther and the Godfathers. I bet I play the Strummer side of this album 10 times for every spin the flip side gets. Take the Lou Reed track off there and that number goes down even more.
The Clash – Live at Shea Stadium (2008)
On a road trip several years ago, I subjected a traveling companion to a recreation of the legendary Clash and Who concert at Shea Stadium in 1982. Thanks to archival releases by both bands, each set can be heard in its entirety.
The two groups were obviously in very different places and had very different jobs to do that night. The Who performed for nearly three times as long as the Clash (two hours and 20 minutes) and were nearing the end of their first farewell tour.
The Clash poured their souls into a breathless 50-minute set that maintains its intensity and energy throughout. The music videos for “Should I Stay or Should I Go” and “Career Opportunities” were shot at this gig and with good reason. The quartet is tight and ready to blow anyone off the stage. “Clampdown,” “I Fought the Law” and opening number “London Calling” are also impeccable. Legend has it that The Clash were treated poorly by Who fans at earlier concerts. In this set they aim to convert everyone in the ballpark. Although the band splintered the following year, none of those cracks are apparent in this set.
Coming on the heels of this set, the Who’s performance couldn’t help but be a disappointment. The band had to pace itself for a much longer set and couldn’t match the Clash’s energy. Although the Who open with several of their earliest hits, they sound like a group tired of each other and tired of the road, going through the motions. Although these performances are nearly 40 years old, the Who ended up having the last laugh. It is still possible to hear Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend play these songs. Sadly, our ability to hear the Clash in concert is limited to archival releases like this.
(Side note to the official Clash archivists and Columbia Records: How about a retrospective collection from The Clash’s shows at Bond’s Casino?)
The Pogues with Joe Strummer – Live in London (2014)
Joe Strummer was never the kind of performer who would plop down on a stool, acoustic guitar in hand and play his catalog. He needed to be in a band. Even when his name was out front, Strummer fed off the energy from the musicians around him. I think this is why Strummer struggled so much after the Clash ended. He didn’t have a group of mates to perform with and draw inspiration from.
When the Pogues asked Strummer to play guitar on a late ‘80s tour, Strummer had so much fun he stuck around to produce the Pogues fifth album. When the Pogues again asked Strummer to go on tour with them in 1991, he was no longer anonymously playing guitar, but positioned front and center, replacing Shane MacGowan.
Live in London is a fantastic snapshot from that tour. On one hand, it shows how uniquely suited MacGowan is for the Pogues. Strummer seems to have trouble keeping up with the band on the faster songs, such as the opening song “If I Should Fall with God” and “Turkish Song of Damned.” Conversely, the recording also shows how easily the Pogues are able to slip into Clash numbers “London Calling” and “Straight to Hell.”
The Pogues soldiered on for a couple more albums and tours after the ’91 tour eventually breaking up, then getting back together with MacGowan in 2001. They have toured sporadically since then, but released no new studio material. Strummer became involved with several film soundtracks throughout the ‘90s but didn’t release any new studio material until forming the Mescaleros at the end of the decade.
The Clash – London Calling (1979)
I have an excellent, 560-page book that breaks down each song on the Clash’s third album. Countless other think-pieces have been written about the album as well. Here are some stray thoughts.
I love that Rolling Stone named London Calling the best album of the ‘80s when it was released in 1979.
I love that artists across all genres have drawn inspiration from London Calling. The Black Crowes, Anne Lennox, Third Eye Blind and Manic Street Preachers all covered “Train in Vain.” I’m not sure those four acts have much in common beyond a love of this song.
I love that 32 years after its release, the song “London Calling” – a warning about an environmental apocalypse – was selected as the theme song for the 2012 Olympic games in London.
I love that Beto O’Rourke loves and relates to the Clash so deeply that he said Ted Cruz was working for the clampdown during a debate like this was an everyday reference. (Beto isn’t wrong, by the way.)
I love that the greatest punk album of all time went out of its way to also include ska on “Rudy Can’t Fail,” lounge music on “Lost in the Supermarket” and pop music on the aforementioned Top 40 hit “Train in Vain.” The song “The Cheat Card” even features a wall of sound, Phil Spector-esque arrangement that had guitarist Mick Jones on piano and trumpet solo.
Never Mind the Bollocks and the Clash’s first album may have burned hotter as succinct statements of raw punk rock, but London Calling sustained that passion across four sides of vinyl and transcended the genre in the process. If you like music, you love London Calling.
Joe Strummer and the Mescaleros – Live at Acton Town Hall (2012)
Joe Strummer’s time with the Mescaleros has gained heightened importance over the years. The Mescaleros were, of course, Strummer’s final band, but also the ensemble that galvanized him to record and tour regularly.
Even in that context, this show at Acton Town Hall is of historic importance. This recording captures Strummer in fine form a little more than a month before his death, doing a benefit show for striking firefighters. Even better, former Clash bandmate Mick Jones joins Strummer onstage during the encore for the pair’s first performance together since the US Festival in 1983.
Acton Town Hall wasn’t Strummer’s final show, but it sure seems like the stars aligned for one magical night.
The Clash – Sandinista! (1980)
At three LPs and 36 songs, most would say Sandinista is too much. I would argue there’s not enough. The Clash were ridiculously prolific, turning out five albums in five years, plus another album’s worth of non-album singles, but the time around Sandinista was bountiful even by those standards.
In addition to fitting studio time for Sandinista! around a hectic touring schedule, the Clash also recorded and released the “Bankrobber” single with two dub versions as b-sides. After recording on Sandinista wrapped, the Clash started working on Ellen Foley’s Spirit of St. Louis album. Foley was dating Clash guitarist Mick Jones at the time. The Clash not only serve as Foley’s band for the entire album, but Jones and Joe Strummer wrote six original songs for the album. (Clash collaborator Tymon Dogg, who worked with the band on Sandinista, also wrote three songs for Foley.)
Imagine a version of Sandinista! where “One More Dub” on side two is replaced with “Bankrobber.” Swap out “Broadway” with “Charlie Don’t Surf” and call the third record a bonus LP: The Clash in Dub. While we’re at it, let’s drop the children’s songs as well. I wonder how history would regard this much improved version of Sandinista! It wouldn’t eclipse London’s Calling, but I bet it would have a much better reputation and we’d see more Sandinista! tracks on tribute albums.
Since we can’t change the past, my dream version of Sandinista! would contain the original album, plus the “Bankrobber” single material and the demo or working versions of tracks Jones and Strummer wrote for Foley (in other words, the Clash versions, sans Foley). I shudder to think what studio scraps from the Sandinista! sessions might remain after listening to sides five and six of the original album, but if there are any other goodies left over, include them as well. That’s easily three compact discs worth of material and I’d buy it in a second. As with all of these suggestions, someone, please, come take my money.
It’s been a while since we’ve had any social distancing spins, but hopefully everyone is still social distancing and staying safe. I’d say Happy Holidays, but these are all Christmas albums, so Merry Christmas and thanks for reading.
Various artists – Motown Christmas (2014) Various artists – A Motown Christmas (1973)
I didn’t spend a lot of time with Motown Christmas before tucking it into my pile of purchases. Seeing Smokey Robinson and the Temptation among the featured artists was all I needed. You can imagine my surprise when I played this album months later (I bought it out of season) and discovered this was a collection of contemporary Motown artists. I didn’t bother me too much, because it didn’t cost much and what’s here is great.
Smokey Robinson opens the album with a song that has that classic Miracles sound augmented by a drum loop that is way too prominent in the mix. Gregory Porter and Anita Wilson take us to church with a soaring gospel mash-up of “Go Tell It On the Mountain” and “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.” Other high points include India.Arie and Gene Moore’s duet on “Mary Did you Know” and Tye Tribbett, who turns “The Little Drummer Boy” into a serious dancefloor jam.
A Motown Christmas is the album I thought I was buying the first time. Oh, what a difference that little article – the letter a – makes. A Motown Christmas rounds up the best moments from several of the label’s biggest Christmas albums. Let’s face it, no one needs to own all these albums, but sprinkling the high points across two records is a pretty tasty collection.
A Motown Christmas serves up four songs each from Stevie Wonder (including “Someday at Christmas” and “Ave Maria”), the Temptations and Smokey Robinson and the Miracles. Diana Ross and the Supremes get five cuts and the Jackson 5 have six songs, plus a Michael Jackson solo performance of “Little Christmas Tree.”
Either yuletide Motown set will keep spirits high. If you play them back-to-back the label’s impact becomes even more apparent.
J.D. McPherson – Socks (2018)
Oklahoma singer/songwriter J.D. McPherson mines the same early rock and roll territory that has served Brian Setzer so well on his holiday records.
While Setzer borrows from the high-octane crowd of Gene Vincent, Elvis Presley and Chuck Berry, McPherson draws from a more diverse pool. “Hey Skinny Santa” sounds like a Louis Jordan jump song and “Twinkle (Little Christmas Lights)” has a New Orleans shuffle and a piano solo that sounds like it was lifted from Huey “Piano” Smith. McPherson veers closer to Setzer’s territory on “Bad Kid,” which features a guitar solo that splits the difference between Duane Eddy and Dick Dale, and “Santa’s Got a Mean Machine” which sounds like it was cut in Sun Studio.
McPherson also scores points for writing 11 original holiday songs for this album. Not only is McPherson a solid songwriter, but this means you don’t have to slog through the same overworked standards that are always on repeat at the mall.
Various artists – Psych-out Christmas (compilation)
If you learn one thing about me through all these Social Distancing Spins blog entries, you should know I will absolutely buy any album if the cover art and sleeve are intriguing and the price is right (read: cheap).
Cleopatra’s 2013 compilation Psyche-out Christmas is one such purchase and I am all the better for it. The album opens with a dumb skit featuring Halloween monsters throwing a Christmas party that sounds like something Dr. Demento might reject for being too corny, but don’t let that put you off. The Elephants rip through the Beatles’ “Christmas Time is Here Again” and Psychic Ills live up to their name with a hung-over reading of “Run Rudolph Run.”
Miss Quintron and the Pussycats are the only band to get two tracks. Their performances of “Silent Night” and “Jingle Bell Rock” are fun. For some reason a group called the Sons of Hippies cover the Zombies’ “Time of the Season.” The biggest name is Iggy Pop who delivers a straightforward version of “White Christmas” that’s called the “Guitar Stooge Version” for some reason. I guess that means James Williamson or Ron Asheton play on the track, but the guitar follows the vocal melody and is pretty low in the mix. Hands-down, the best song is Sleepy Sun’s version of “What Child of This,” which features a galloping rhythm section complemented with shoegaze guitars.
Psyche-out Christmas is one of those collections that is greater than the sum of its part. Aside from Sleepy Sun there aren’t really any songs that scream to be included on a playlist (or mixtape) on their own merits. But the 17 songs here hang together for a very enjoyable listen that is guaranteed to draw at least a couple puzzled looks when unsuspecting listeners have to confirm if they are really hearing what they think they are hearing.
Various artists – Death May Be Your Santa Claus (compilation)
If Psyche-out Christmas doesn’t drive the squares out of your holiday party, Death May Be Your Santa Claus should do the trick. This 2013 Record Store Day – Black Friday exclusive gathers sermons, blues, jazz and gospel tracks issued in the 1920s, ‘30s and ‘40s.
Clips of Reverend J.M. Gates sermons from the 1920s appear every couple songs and provide not only the title track but ask the question Will hell be your Santa Claus? Um, maybe? A little bit of Gates goes a long way and I could have done with half as much. The rest of the songs from Sonny Boy Williamson (the first one), Bessie Smith, Tampa Red and very early Duke Ellington are will appeal to fans of early blues and jazz. Aside from the Heavenly Gospel Singers’ version of “When Was Jesus Born?” not many of the other songs are very well-known.
The award for best song title and group name combo goes to Butterbeans and Susie, who perform “Papa Ain’t No Santa Claus (and Mama Ain’t No Christmas Tree).” The song comes from the pen of Fats Waller’s lyricist Andy Razaf and ragtime pianist Alexander Hill. The Butterbeans and Susie are Joe and Susie Edwards, who sing, and pianist Eddie Heywood.
The Edwards were a married comedy team that performed from the 1920s until the 1960s, which is pretty impressive when you consider how much comedy changed during that time. They started in the vaudeville era and managed to keep it going through the advent of radio, talking movies and finally television. Joe Edwards was known as Butterbeans, which is how the duo got their name. You can learn all kinds of stuff on the internet.
John Fahey – The New Possibility (1968)
Folk guitarist John Fahey remains fairly unknown nearly two decades after his death, but he inspires a deep devotion from those that discover him. Listening to this album it is easy to hear why.
The performances on The New Possibility sound like they were captured in one take with a live guitar. If there is any overdubbing it is hidden well. The tempos across the 14 standards captured here are fairly steady as well.
I understand that this can read like the recipe for a snooze-fest and in most circumstances I’d agree. But there is something in Fahey’s playing that is both magnetic and intimate. The New Possibility makes me feel like I am sitting inside Fahey’s guitar, feeling the wood vibrate around me while the strings oscillate overhead.
While the arrangements are fairly straightforward, there is something in Fahey’s playing that simultaneously makes me want to pull close and provides a feeling of comfort. Every time I’ve put this album on at a holiday gathering, people will almost immediately stop talking and listen. When I play this album by myself, I usually end up playing it twice because the environment it creates is so soothing and refreshing. Next time the holiday blues or yuletide fatigue start to fade in, send them packing with The New Possibility.
For better or worse, the Psychedelic Furs will always be tied to “Pretty in Pink” and the films of John Hughes. The master of 1980s coming-of-age movies directed his last film in 1991, the same year the Furs released their final album. That is until now, 29 years later, and Made of Rain.
Just the eighth album from the band, Made of Rain is far from the cash-in or pale imitation skeptics could rightly assume after so long an absence. To be sure, Made of Rain will never be mistaken for one of the Furs classics made in the first half of the Me Decade, but it is also better than some of the albums released toward the end of the group’s original run.
“The Boy that Invented Rock and Roll” opens the album with no concession to the passage of time. Singer Richard Butler is still entrenched in that odd niche between Johnny Rotten and David Bowie, while Mars Williams’ saxophone darts around Tim Butler’s propulsive bassline. Lead single “Don’t Believe” is a tough number that features a short, soaring chorus against a dark backdrop. Later, “Come All Ye Faithful” finds Richard Butler at his sardonic best, delivering lines like “When I said I loved you, and I lied / I never really loved you, I was laughing at you all the time.”
Even less-successful numbers such as “Ash Wednesday” and “You’ll Be Mine” get by on their ability to conjure the specific feelings and memories only the Psychedelic Furs can produce. It isn’t pure nostalgia, but also a wonder that no matter how much has changed, life could somehow sound and feel this way again.
Bobbie Gentry – The Delta Sweete
After the surprising – and massive – No. 1 hit “Ode to Billie Joe,” Bobbie Gentry recorded a sometimes-autobiographical song cycle about life in the South. As a Mississippi native, the material is a natural for Gentry, but odd production choices make The Delta Sweete a completely unique release.
Neither psychedelic nor countrypolitian, the acoustic instruments at the heart of each performance are saturated with strings, horns and seemingly everything producer Kelly Gordon could think of. The busy arrangements often draw the focus away from Gentry’s voice and lyrics. At times, the material resembles folk songs posturing Las Vegas show tunes.
Perhaps no number on The Delta Sweete embodies this juxtaposition better than “Sermon,” also known as the country gospel song “God’s Going to Cut You Down.” Gentry’s version is startling upbeat, accented with punchy horns. It is especially astonishing for those used to the foreboding Johnny Cash version.
The new deluxe version unearths a mono mix of the album, along with band tracks, but the spare acoustic demos are most fascinating addition. The Delta Sweete might be a better album if it stayed closer in spirit to these stripped-down performances, but it would also be a lot less interesting.
Prophets of Rage – Prophets of Rage
The remaining members of Rage Against the Machine have had a hard time filling the void left by the unexpected near-retirement of frontman Zack de la Rocha nearly 20 years ago. The trio paired with Chris Cornell for three albums in the ‘00s and are now working with Public Enemy’s Chuck D and DJ Lord and B-Real of Cypress Hill.
The supergroup’s 2017 self-titled album is closer in sound, content and spirit to the Machine’s celebrated catalog. Chuck D has no problem agitating a lyric against injustice and the like-minded B-Real is a better foil in this context than a post-reality show Flava Flav.
Neither Public Enemy nor Rage Against the Machine were known for subtly and truthfully the Prophets of Rage doesn’t offer many surprises. The album sounds pretty much exactly as one would imagine. Those excited by this prospect know playing the Prophets at maximum volume satisfies both a primal and sociopolitical need.
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