From Rock to Bluegrass to Country: "Fox on the Run"

In 1968 Manfred Mann recorded a new song called “Fox on the Run:”

It’s a fairly straightforward Manfred Mann late-1960s rock song. Okay, but pretty ho-hum as far as I am concerned.

Soon after though, the song caught the attention of bluegrass artists just as bluegrass music was enjoying a renaissance in the early 1970s. Bill Emerson was the pioneering bluegrass artist who popularized “Fox on the Run” to his audience. To me, the song sounds so much better as a bluegrass number. Here are the Country Gentlemen with their rendition:

The song quickly became a bluegrass standard right alongside “Foggy Mountain Breakdown” and “Mountain Dew.” A few years later, country artist Tom T. Hall did this arrangement, which is how I first heard the song. It’s quickly become one of my favorites:

I would love to hear Wilco’s take on this one.

The B-52s Have Still Got It

Live at the House of Blues, Boston, 12/2/11.

Kate Pierson: 63 years old and deliciously eerie on "Planet Claire."

The audio isn't great in this video, but if you look carefully, at the very beginning you might be able to see Kate reach down and touch the hand of the guy standing right next to me.

Tinariwen

I just saw these guys in concert recently. What a concept - a rotating collective of Tuareg-Berber musicians from the Sahara region of northern Mali, playing traditional Bedouin music with a bit of a Santana-and-Zeppelin-inspired rock style, on traditional instruments + electric guitars and basses.

Journey: Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)

Top 10 features:

10. Air guitar.
9. Drum kit made out of oil drums w/ hi-hat made out of old hubcaps.
8. Black and pink muscle-tee.
7. Excellent Steadicam tracking through pallet-storage areas.
6. Air drumming.
5. Those snug Levi 501's.
4. Bergmanian profile-n-face shots.
3. Popped collar on the tweed jacket.
2. Poignant commentary on U.S. de-industrialization during the 1980s: Disused export dock, forklifts, etc. are repurposed for new top U.S. export: culture.
1. Air keyboards.

99 Views of Wilco

I've been having a great time going through my pictures of the Solid Sound Festival three weeks ago (June 24-26). And, since I imagine that everybody else can't get enough of my concert photography, here's a collage I put together of of 99 pictures I took at the two Wilco shows.

Actually, to be honest, it's 98 pictures of Wilco and one picture of Pajama Club.

Full-screen downloadable version here: http://www.scribd.com/fullscreen/59408454

Roger, Wilco

I got no reading done this past weekend. I spent the entire time at the Solid Sound festival in North Adams, MA. This was my first music festival ever and I had a really, really, really, really, really good time. More creative neurons were firing in my brain than had been firing for a very long time.

More power to the members of Wilco for encouraging each other to express themselves independently in so many different ways. My personal highlights:

• Being right up front for two Wilco concerts on two consecutive days
• Neil Finn joining the band on stage for an awesome two-fer: Wilco's "I Got You" followed by Split Enz's "I Got You"
  
• Vivian Maier photo exhibit curated by Pat Sansone
• Picturesque de-industrialization-of-America venue at Mass MoCA
  
• Falconry
• Sweet potato fries at the Samosa Man
  
• Art & music everywhere
  

The rain only made it more memorable. I'm only sorry that I missed the handmade music lounge.

The Platonic Ideal of Music Videos

There need not be any further attempts in this medium.

Oreilles Gauloises (Dead Air Edition) - OFF UNTIL FRIDAY APRIL 16th

Due to a couple of work-related deadlines, I was unable to write my weekly music album review this past Friday. I will be back this coming week. My apologies. To make amends, and to pay homage to Mr. Alex Chilton who recently passed away, I am posting this Big Star classic, from their timeless debut #1 Record

- Karlissimo del Banco

Oreilles Gauloises (Comfort Sounds Edition): Mars Audiac Quintet (Stereolab)

 

You know those days when you wake up, and you feel that it's all wrong? You can't make sense of anything, and your spirit feels totally broken. I get those once in a while, in my neurotic, cynicism-riddled Gen-Xer's mind. There are a few things that help me in those instances; some of these remedies are healthy (cuddling with the kittehs, cuddling with the missus, a nice, warm shower, talking to a good friend, etc.), others not so healthy (ranting on FaceBook, eating junk food, watching MSNBC). Music also plays a definite role for me in recovering from these moments of deep funk, and there are two bands in particular that I find work well for me: Kraftwerk and Stereolab. I will talk about Kraftwerk later, but for now I'd like to focus on Stereolab, and their 1994 album Mars Audiac Quintet.

Stereolab is primarily the efforts of the Tim Gane and Laetitia Sadier music team. He's English. She's French. This album (their fourth) is where they started perfecting their wonderful synth-driven melodies and combining them with Sadier's soothing vocals. Some of the songs are sung in English, some in French, but it makes little difference in the end: all are amazing and mesmerizing sonic experiments that can at times sound like 60's pop, or Krautrock noise, or even lounge music.

When I have a bad day, I know with complete certainty that I can put this record on, and my worries will dissipate. I don't know why exactly. I think that Sadier's voice has an effect on me, and that somehow, a sense of serenity comes over me whenever I hear her sing.....well, and I guess the fact that I have a major crush on her might have something to do with it as well.

This is a synth album. It's all over this record, and when mixed with beautiful pop melodies sung by Princess Laetitia, the result is very often quite magical. Not many bands have been able to do this successfully (I can only think of one: Brooklyn's Au Revoir Simone), and I am quite grateful that Stereolab has so many records to explore and listen to whenever those dark clouds appear on the horizon.

Les villes vues d’avion sont semblables
Les villes vues d’avion sont semblables
À des étoiles éléctroniques
Qui sont écrasés au sol pour prendre racine
Et vivre ainsi étalés.


I feel better already.

Songs of Bakersfield

Jake directs me to this simply wonderful old clip of Buck Owens and the Buckaroos appearing on the Jimmy Dean Show in 1966:

Among the many delights of this video:

1. The names of the various Buckaroos affixed to their various instruments
2. The oil-derrick stagecraft
3. Buck Owens, obviously, and the way his rhinestones cause black flares in the TV camera
4. Don Rich's Fender Telecaster (I have a Telecaster, ergo, I am Don Rich!)

Buck Owens, the Buckaroos, and the Bakersfield Sound is all I would need on a desert island.

And the Dwight Yoakam - Buck Owens duet "Streets of Bakersfield" is a must for any collection (sorry about the poor audio quality but the video is just too good):

Öreilles Gaüloises (Metal Edition): Black Sabbath (Black Sabbath)

 

When I was in growing up in CT, the first few friends I made in high school were into hard rock and heavy metal music. I liked "hard rock" as a genre in general (Deep Purple, Aerosmith, etc.), but I didn't know very much about Metal. I thought Led Zeppelin was heavy metal, but I really didn't understand the true meaning of the words Heavy Metal until my friend Adam played me some Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, and the mighty Black Sabbath!! I had seen some of their records lying around in his room, and he finally played me this album after I asked him one day: "What is the big deal about Sabbath?".

I think we were driving around Fairfield and Westport during one of our customary Friday night cruising escapades, and he put the tape in the cassette deck....out came the sound of falling rain and this cold, distant bell, and then, suddenly, this MONSTER three-note riff! It was the most terrifying sound I had ever heard (for many years I couldn't even play the song if I was by myself)! I remember thinking "If there is a Hell, this is what it sounds like!". Even looking at the album cover caused me some anxiety: what is that dark figure? Is that a witch?

The sound of the band was like nothing I had ever heard: Tony Iommi's thick, heavy riffs, combined with the pounding of one rock's best rhythm section (Bill Ward on drums, and the amazing Geezer Butler on bass!), all of it covered with Ozzy's ominous voice - a perfect recipe for an young and impressionable mind like mine! The lyrics also left me no doubt that these guys were clearly devil worshipers ("Black Sabbath", The Wizard", "N.I.B."), which made them that much more cool in my eyes!*

This album really expanded my musical horizon, and led me to many other heavy metal bands that I still listen to to this day (Iron Maiden, Motörhead, Slayer, and many more), and I go back to it periodically to remind myself where it all started - for me, and for the Metal in general.

* For the record, the band never was into devil-worshiping, but their record label tried very hard to make them look like they were, for marketing purpose, much to the band's displeasure.

The First Leon

The First Leon,

The Angels did say

Was a certain poor shepherd

In fields did he lay

In fields where he

Lay keeping his sheep

On a cold winter's night

That was so deep.

Leon, Leon, Leon, Leon

Here is some snow that you can pee on.

Oreilles Gauloises (Desert-Island Album Edition) - In on the Kill Taker (Fugazi)

Way back in the 90s, I would sometimes buy an album that would simply blow my mind on the first listen, and fill me with excitement and joy. The kind of record you play from beginning to end, and then think to yourself "I'm going to start a band!". This is one of those records.

Fugazi came together in 1987 in Washington DC, and quickly became indie stars there, and in the punk/alternative community in general, known for their great songwriting and incredible live shows. They released three records before this one (13 Songs, Repeater, and Steady Diet of Nothing) and several more until they stopped playing together in 2001. All of their albums are worth checking out, but this is the one that grabbed me.

The album was recorded in 1992, and released in early 1993; to me, it is the ultimate soundtrack to the horrible political and social atmosphere of that time - we had just lived through four years of George H.W. Bush in the White House, which gave us a bloody war in Iraq, the political peak of the Christian Right, and an economic recession). Music had started to become exciting again (at least at the mainstream level) with the advent of Nirvana, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Smashing Pumpkins, and others, but not many bands could capture the feeling of unease and uncertainty that was hanging over my head, being fresh out of school, barely working, and mostly broke. Somehow, Fugazi's music resonated with me: great guitars, with smart and poetic lyrics about politics, art, sex, and the overall challenge of being twenty-something and clueless.

If anything, this is a "guitar" album. Not the shredding kind, or with the long and complicated solos, but the kind of guitar sounds that set the tone without being overwhelming, and make you want to jump and dance in a sea of sweaty bodies, all trying to forget their troubles for an hour or two.

Coughing inside your coffin
Like at the bottom of the sea


Indeed.

Oreilles Gauloises (Classics Edition) : Here Come the Warm Jets (Brian Eno)

Brian Eno is mostly known for his work as a music producer (U2, David Bowie, Talking Heads, Coldplay, etc.), or his short stint as a member of Roxy Music in the early seventies (the first two Roxy Music albums - Roxy Music (1972) and For Your Pleasure (1973) in which Eno is listed under "synthesizer and tapes", are a must in any glam rock fan's music collection!).

But Eno also has an extensive catalog of his own musical work, either as a solo artist or in collaboration with other musicians, a career that started after his departure from Roxy Music in 1973, with the release of his first solo album Here Come the Warm Jets that same year. He's made many albums since, but this one remains my favorite! There isn't one bad song on this album! There are so many innovative sounds on this release, it's hard to find a (good) contemporary musician today who hasn't been inspired by Eno's work in general, and this album in particular. Eno has this amazing ability to write very weird and experimental songs that still sound very melodic and super-catchy ("Needles in the Camel's Eyes", "Cindy Tells Me", "Baby's on Fire", "Dead Fink don't Talk").

On this album, Eno gets help from fellow Roxy Music alums Phil Manzanera and Andy Mackay, as well as the amazing Robert Fripp (with whom he would make other albums), and future King Crimson bassist/singer John Wetton. Warm Jets and many other Eno albums were reissued and remastered a few years ago by Astralwerks, who did a masterful job! I would urge anyone to check those albums out (at least through 1977's Before & after Science, and many of the ambient works he's released since 1978's Ambient 1: Music for Airports). Dive in and discover the wonderful musical world of Brian Eno!

The Twin Peaks of Kilimanjaro

Just got off the phone with a friend who mentioned that his wife is currently on an expedition to the top of Mt. Kilimanjaro, which of course immediately reminded me of this classic Monty Python skit:




And, for good measure, this song from the most underrated band of the 1980s, Toto. (my apologies for the questionable "jungle fever" imagery):

The Piano Bench Conundrum

The Piano Bench Conundrum dates back to the mid-nineteenth century, when pianos first began appearing in the parlors of prosperous middle-class homes. The Conundrum relates to the fact that while one is sitting on a piano bench, the sheet music stored inside the bench, beneath the hinged seat, is inaccessible.

If the person playing the piano wants a piece of sheet music that is stored in the bench, he or she must first stop playing, stand up, turn around, open the bench, and then hold the lid open with one hand while leafing through the sheet music with the other. Or, the pianist can attempt to open the bench and hope that it stays open on its own while using both hands to search for the desired sheet music, though this technique carries the risk that the bench seat will fall on the pianist's hands, rendering them inoperable in the short term for piano playing or much else. In either case, the pianist must reverse the entire process before he or she can begin playing again. As the time expended to retrieve additional sheet music is totally unproductive from the perspective of someone deriving utility from playing and/or listening to piano music, we can safely classify the imputed value of that time as a dead-weight loss.

Normally, in a free market, such an inefficiency would be expected to attract a variety of potential solutions from entrepreneurs hoping to "cash in" by providing an easier way to retrieve sheet music. Yet despite substantial innovation in recent decades in the realms of both interior furniture and musical instruments, the Piano Bench Conundrum continues to plague the home pianist and the concert virtuoso alike.

Here They Came A'Wassailing

This evening our very own street was fortunate enough to be visited by The Boston Merry Christmas Caroling Mob, an ad-hoc collection of (really good) singers organized in flash-mob fashion by local artist Joel Sindelar. I was shoveling out our walk after a 10" snowfall when I heard them making their way up the street singing Christmas carols in four-part harmony. It was amazingly beautiful, especially with nearly a foot of powdery snow everywhere. It was like something out of Currier and Ives.

By the time they arrived at our house, I had a pot of hot spiced apple cider and four plates of Christmas cookies (leftovers from the previous night's Christmas party) ready for them. We plied our hardy Yuletide chorale with food and drink in hopes that they would not ransack our house in search of "figgy pudding." Presently, having quaffed and gobbled their fill, the merrymakers moved on down the street to by turns cheer or terrify our neighbors.

Saturday Night Soundtrack

I discovered the Feelies in '88 through a college friend with their album Only Life that had a great cover of the Velvet Underground's "What Goes On". They really sounded like the Velvets to me, but unlike Lou Reed and John Cale, these guys looked kinda nerdy, which I thought was great.

This is their first album, Crazy Rhythms. It was reissued this year, and it's a great record! There's a little bit of everything in there - some Television-style jams, Velvet guitar sounds, and lyrics that would make David Byrne jealous.

Pavarotti

I don't know the first thing about opera and I have no idea what Puccini's "Turandot" is even about, but they've been playing this aria on the radio all day and I really do like it. In the words of Nigel Tufnel speaking about the key of D sharp minor, "It makes me weep instantly."

Serge Gainsbourg

Today I was at Java Jo's and they were playing an album of French pop music that I hadn't heard before but really liked. One of the songs was about Bonnie and Clyde. I went home to itunes and determined that the artist was Serge Gainsbourg. His bio on itunes made him out to be quite the character.

The weather here is sparkling -- only a few more weeks before a mammoth gray nimbus cloud descends on Boston for five straight months.