About a week or so ago, when I was powering down different versions of "Coming Home Baby", the Peddlers were one band that I had never followed up on, not even for a casual personal interest. When I did, I found the gem "Girlie". Blame the seventies, this one is like some nightmarish Tom Jones-Barry White hybrid, by a jazz trio. Incredibly laughable, though other then the dated lyrics there is nothing specifically shitty about the song. But those lyrics, and the delivery, are a chuckle pill. Then I found this video and was all kinds of screwed up:
When I looked further I found "Gassin'", a six minute instrumental. Kicks ass. What are these guys? This is what I know: the Peddlers are a trio, bass, drums and organ. And vocals. God, those vocals. They remind me of Ban-Lon shirts or cheap men's cologne. Zip ankle boots. There's lots more on YouTube. If you dig any of these go there. A warning though, when it comes to these guys. it's a mine field.
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I'm not even going to mess around with this one. Kogar the Swing Ape put together a collection of Instrumental 45 of the Week songs he's posted at Rock 'n' Soul Ichiban, over thirty of them. If you dig greasy instrumentals from the fifties and sixties, the heavy mix of honking sax and twangy guitar, with surface noise, the patina of ash and beer, you'll be chompin' up on this stuff. There's a couple teasers below. That's it. Scram.
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I don't know this young guitarist named Kara, but after seeing videos posted by her guitar teacher Michael Stevens, I'm a fan. I'll tell you why. She's around ten years old and her music of choice is the blues. That should be applauded. With the dearth of blues based music (and that includes rock 'n' roll) on the charts, which is where most kids that age find their favorites, it's remarkable that she's even been exposed to blues, let alone having a preference. And she's good at it and getting better. I'm sure there are better ten year old guitarists, but you know what? She plays better than I do, and probably many of you. And she's stuck with it, unlike those of us who have picked up the guitar and then stopped when it started getting frustrating. She's our poster girl, a de facto Rosie the Riveter for blues students. Because her perseverance should be rewarded, I will post periodic updates when her teacher heps me to them. I'm going to be around for a while and I want to see her become the Freda King she has her sights on. This is "Kara B. Goode" happening in real time. Someday she will see her name in lights.
Above and beyond Miss Kara's musical potential, what is encouraging about this is the thought of another generation carrying on what sometimes seems in danger of being lost on younger people, that being blues based music. "There will always be the blues", you'll think. Have you checked in on what kids listen to lately?
The beginning licks of "Berge Boogie", the video above, reminded me of a classic segment from Hail! Hail! Rock 'n' Roll, the 1987 Chuck Berry all star concert flick. The clip is of Keith Richards and Chuck Berry rehearsing for the show and getting messed up repeatedly on the opening of "Carol". It's not the same lick as in the video above, but shows just how frustrating it can be trying to nail a Chuck Berry type intro.
I know I just posted the Slits not too long ago, but I ran across a non-LP version of "Instant Hit", a harder sounding version. Might be a Peel Session or something, I don't know. I was still on the fence about posting it when I ran into the photo below, by Caroline Coon. It's Paul Simonon from the Clash glancing at Ari Up, likely backstage at some show. But that's not what's why I dig it, nor is the vintage of the photo (1977). What I like about it is that it's a candid shot that captures a specific era in an everyday manner, an accidental Robert Frank. (A larger version can be found here.)
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Wow, these were a dynamite treat, from totally out of nowhere. A couple random clicks at Still In Rock and two instant favorites. They're by a French guy, Jaromil Sabor, and that's about all I know. From what I can ascertain, the two songs below are a little hairier than most of his other stuff. Most of it being baroque pop or some other such name for the daintier stuff. But, man, these two I dig. Call me an asshole, I hear early Redd Cross, vocals like Jeff Atta from Middle Class, Jam-era Weller guitar tone, Dan Sartain, King Khan,...just all sorts of shit, even about a millisecond of Television. The two songs are "Knocked-Out Circus" and Seagrave Station". Both kick ass. Check his Bandcamp page for other songs.
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When was the last time you thought of the Detroit Cobras? I know, huh? They were lumped in with all the other bands back when Detroit was gonna take over the world. Seems like just yesterday, it was their turn to be "the next Seattle" Remember? The Gories, White Stripes, Von Bondies, etc. Boy, that sure fizzled.
The Detroit Cobras were essentially a cover band. Their trick was obscure covers. Catchy obscure covers. Catchy enough that, by the time you heard the original, the association in your head was already locked on the Detroit Cobras' version. They had a revolving lineup, the constants being an guy from the Oblivians and the singer, who had a nice voice that might have been more effective if it wasn't so prominent in the mix. That's my gripe. Not that they did nearly all covers, and not that they didn't do them well, because they did do them well. Every time I hear them all I can think of is the "in the right hands..." potential. But they did come to party, I'll give them that.
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Yikes! Someone tell Ralf and Florian the Man Machine has a bug in it! Robots playing Black Sabbath? Go figure. I'm not for or against this sort of thing. I pick my battles. But I dig their pitch "If you're looking for something special, then you're in luck. These robots are willing to power up their circuits to play at meatbag gatherings, mechanical madness at your pleasure!" Meatbag gatherings - tee hee. One has to wonder though. It's a lot of ingenuity, technology and know how for what must be a limited return on the effort. Then again, that sounds like human musicians.
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I had forgotten all about Yat-Kha. (That's not them above. That's Kansas Joe McCoy and Memphis Minnie,) Yat-Kha are from Tuva. That's right, straight outta Tuva, let's get that over with. It's in southern Siberia. They mix traditional Tuvan music with Western music. And with a throat singer. Yeah. Every bit as weird as it sounds.
I had my doohickey on shuffle today and their cover of "When the Levee Breaks" came on. It occurred to the that I'd never heard it back to back with the original. I'm not sure how much it follows Kansas Joe McCoy and Memphis Minnie's version, or if it's drawn from Led Zeppelin's version. I don't care. It's weird, and my Tuvan collection is week.
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If disco frightens you, bug out. This is for my buds that dig good where good is. I don't know what to make of this one. Just listen to it. Wait for the rap. Man, hip hop is miles away from what passed for rhymes back then. Yeesh. But, holy hell,the song as a whole is infectious. I listened to it a few times in a row to hear all the weird shit going on it. I got hooked.
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Please join me in welcoming the Joe Thomas Group to the "Comin' Home Baby" Club. The damn song just won't die. Versions by Mel Torme, El Chicano, Syvie Vartan, Dee Dee Sharp and the Peddlers have been posted here before, and I'll just keep right on posting versions of the song until I get sick of it. Joe Thomas Group's version is an instrumental, slightly funky happy hour soul jazz, which may or may not be your bag. It features a long flute solo by Thomas, a little too long if you ask me. But, you know, every part of every song doesn't have to knock your socks off. Just consider it upbeat going about your business music. Brush your teeth during the flute solo. I don't care.
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I've been on a bit of a Mott the Hoople binge for the past twenty four hours and it's tugging on the old heartstrings. Yesterday when it was all over the news that Glen Frey of the Eagles had died, I was indifferent. Death is always unfortunate, but it could've very well been Joe Blow and I would have cared about the same. Then, when I checked in on Facebook, I found something really upsetting. Oddly there was comfort buried in it. Dale "Buffin" Griffin, the drummer and a founding member of Mott the Hoople had died. Now, this wasn't on the news, this being the U.S. where Mott the Hoople barely cut a fart on the charts. But it was headline news as reported by my circle of friends on Facebook. Nary a mention of Frey, it was all Griffin, all Mott. This was the comforting part, not only that so many of these friends found it too important not to mention. It was a reminder that we're all still on the same page. My friends have epic taste. And they don't forget. Die hards. Yes.
Dale "Buffin" Griffin
Griffin died of Alzheimer's. He was first diagnosed with early-onset in 2008. The following year when the band reunited for a short tour, Griffin played, but only on the encores. The last official Mott the Hoople release was "Do You Remember) The Saturday Gigs?" a 45 released in 1974. Shortly after it was released, they played their final tour (non-reunion), Ian Hunter left, and that was it. There was an offshoot, Mott (without "the Hoople"), but the original Mott the Hoople was effectively finished. On that final tour, their closing song every night was "Saturday Gigs", a look back on the early days of the band. The chorus is simple, but oh so effective. "Do you remember the Saturday Gig's? We do, we do." When they reunited in 2009, with Griffin playing drums on the encores, their final song on the final night "Saturday Gigs". Man.
Roll Away the Stone 1973
Anyone of any scene remembers whatever the Saturday gigs they attended were. And they don't have to be on Saturday. My homies know. The shows at North Park Lions Club were often on Saturday, but Abbey Road shows were on Mondays, and Texas Teahouse Thursdays. Casbah gigs were several nights a week, and still are for some. Those of you know. "Saturday Gigs" is a Chrismas carol for rockers, "Auld Lang Syne" and "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow" all rolled into one. It made me smile when I thought about the people who posted about Griffin's death, because they didn't forget, including my brother who introduced me to them when we were still sharing a bedroom. It really got all warm and fuzzy in here when I started to think about all of the faces at all the Saturday gigs I've attended over the years. I feel very fortunate that I'm still in contact with many of them. Cheers! To Saturday gigs! To Mott the Hoople! To Buffin!
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Oh yeah...another oddball, another one of those "found by chance but dig that production" songs. Before tonight, I'd never heard of Jackie Gotroe. I have know. Ample rockabilly, unusual in that it's from San Francisco. The West coast is not normally thought of as a hotbed of rockabilly, not back then anyway. Still, it's not as wild and crazy as one would hope. Wild and crazy isn't why I'm digging on Gotroe and his band, the Scamps. There's something about the production. It's raw. It sounds cheap. It might be more than that, but after a couple listens, isolating the instruments as I listen, I can't really figure out why this particular type of sound appeals to me. Sometimes I guess cheap just works.
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Leave it to Lysergic Funk. They just posted a link to Space Is the Place, a film staring Sun Ra. I've posted it before but the link's been dead for a while. So dig it, a new link. It's not really a dramatic film, nor is it a documentary or a music film, though there is music in it. It's really just a vehicle for Sun Ra to spout off about space being the place and what not. There you have it. But it is entirely entertaining and if you watch it early in the day, the rest of your day definitely won't be the same.
Lysergic Funk also posted a documentary about Sun Ra, and a live thing. The live thing is awesome, nearly an hour of quality "I'll watch some here and there and then leave it blasting as i go about my business" slightly out there jazz. Billed as Sun Ra All Stars and the Sun Ra Arkestra, the band, er Arkestra, includes Archie Shepp, Lester Bowie and Don Cherry. I don't even really know what those guys sound like, but I've seen their names enough to know they must be hot shit. I don't care. The thing sounds good.
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Lee "Scratch" Perry will be eighty years old in March. By every indication he's still very much a spring chicken. There's no disputing that he's a freak of nature, some sort of mad genius.
With rather primitive equipment, he produced a good sized hunk of classic seventies reggae, behind the board for everyone from Bob Marley down to the bottom feeders. He did his own stuff too, backed by his studio band the Upsetters. Then at the peak of his popularity, he burned his studio down.
He's collaborated with everyone and their mother, even outside of reggae circles. He produced the Clash, worked with Adrian Sherwood, recorded with the Beastie Boys, had Andrew WK co-produce one of his albums (that had Ari Up, Moby and Don Fleming guesting), and so on. Dude is a machine. These days in full on Technicolor.
There's a new documentary about him (yes, another), the trailer of which shows him as lively as ever. Lee Scratch Perry's Vision Of Paradise follows him for fifteen years, including a trip back to Jamaica, which ought to be interesting just by itself. If you've watched his trajectory of the past decade or so, you can well imagine. That's gotta be like a martian landing in Kingston.
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This was streamed live a week ago. I highly recommend watching some of it, if not all of it. Motörhead may not have been one of your favorites, but it's worth viewing. Lemmy was one of very few die hard rockers who was really was true to his cool and, by all appearances, an exceptionally nice guy. Very little of it is about his music, most of it is about interactions and friendships, stories that are inspiring and endearing. We could all learn something from watching it.
Man, sometimes it takes just one song. Here's one that's a mother of a Venn diagram. Over here you've got a big ol' circle floating around by itself.. That would be the people who just don't get it. Never did, never will. Always a big chunk of any Venn diagram, or rather outside the diagram. Then, in another circle you have the instro nuts, who love instrumentals. They intersect a little with the Songs the Cramps Taught Us (or Lux & Ivy's Favorites) folks. Another circle is the oddball 45 nuts. Honkin' sax nuts, and so on. You see where I'm going. All of that to say that the song below is one you should dig, unless of course you're part of the never get it, never will mob.
Just look at that label. It's got it all. A cool band name, a cool song title, a cool record label, crappy low budget graphics, and the song length, which is just about the perfect length for a 45. Can it stand the test? Yes and no. If you expect something slick, don't bother. Wrong circle. But if you want to hear an unpolished medium fidelity guitar and sax driven instrumental that you may not ever come across again, dig in. Check the other label below, a later pressing of the 45, this one the B-side. Using type for the record company logo now. What is this, The Phantom Five Sell Out? Still, looking even a little more normal, it reeks of "gotta hear this".
One last thing, just look at these guys. Stealth to the max. They were probably sneaking Dad's Oly between science projects. Oh, man, I so dig this shit.
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Not messing around tonight. I was going to post the first song picked at random that was what I considered a really good record. The Slit's cover of "I Heard it Through the Grapevine" fit the bill. I've heard all four of the versions below many times, and the Slits is far and away my favorite, though technically it's probably, no, certainly the worst. But I identify with it, like many of you who know it, because if you are of a certain age, the Slit's version came out during a crucial period in your life. And if you can't identify a good song with an episode, what good is it?
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Enough of the bad news and people dying. Tonight I need me some jubilant. It's time to turn that frown upside down. Here's a nice thought. These guys are still alive. Chuck Berry, Little Richard and Jerry Lee Lewis. They still walk among us. If that doesn't remove part of your funk, I give up. These are fundamental. The salt on a slippery road. If you don't see it, screw your damn head on.
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This morning I was in my car flipping the dial when I heard a snippet of an interview with David Bowie. My first thought was "ahhh shit". I had a sinking feeling that something bad had happened. Within minutes, my suspicions were confirmed. David Bowie was dead.
I'm not going to bullshit. I've made cracks about Bowie before, and I'd be lying if I said that I was fan enough to not spot a wart or two over the years. But I have nothing but respect for the man, as a ground breaker, visionary and all of the other Twitter ready short descriptions. Yesterday was, for many people of my generation, the day the music died. He was our Elvis, our Beatles. He was always there, surprising us time and time again with a new turn, a new sound, a new persona, without paying attention to what was selling or what might sell. He was an original, several times over. And, by and large, he produced quality product. He was there for others as well. When Mott the Hoople needed a boost, Bowie was there. Lou Reed, again. Iggy Pop? He might not be here at all if not for Bowie.
Back in the seventies, he earned his rock 'n roll merit badge, pissing off the parents of all the children who ate up his gender bending persona from Ziggy Stardust through Diamond Dogs. Then he surprised his fans when the David Live LP came out, his dapper looks and the first steps outside of a glam persona. Young Americans? How many shag heads were listening to anything remotely like Philly soul, no matter how plastic the interpretation was? Then there was the Berlin period albums, the synth and drone inflected Station to Station,Low, and Heroes, the latter being the last Bowie album I ever bought. Not because everything after that sucked. I just couldn't keep up. No casual fan could.
What, like four decades?
You can bet that in the next few days and weeks there's gonna be plenty of Bowie related stuff posted everywhere, so here's just a few odds and ends I've run across. In a weird twist, today being my Mom's birthday, I'd been planning on posting "Nature Boy" a song that was a favorite of hers. That went out the window when I heard the news. But in searching for Bowie stuff, I ran across a version he did in 2001 that I had no idea existed. Man, he was pretty much always firing on all cylinders. I ask you, who else has covered the Legendary Stardust Cowboy? Did you know that he was in a movie having a knife fight with Carl Perkins? (After Perkins pulls a knife out of his own chest!) Do check out that last link down there and marvel at how healthy he looked just three days ago.
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Red Simpson died on Thursday in Bakersfield, his hometown and the city so identified with a particular strain of country and western music that it was called the Bakersfield sound. He sang a lot about trucks and truck driving. Though not as well known outside of the trucker mob as Red Sovine, Dave Dudley and others, his "(Hello} I'm a Truck" is an all time trucker classic. Come to think of it, maybe his second tier status was because people thought he actually was a truck. Then again, he also sang about cops. Go figure.
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That Sarah Vaughn photo that I clicked on that led to yesterdays post was accompanying her "Black Coffee", a very cool song, sultry and all that jazz. I didn't mention it because I thought I had posted it before, but it turns out the version I posted was Peggy Lee's. Neither matters tonight after hearing Black Flag's "Black Coffee", a different song altogether. That's the one that hit the spot, this time anyway. Nice to hear something that sounds that hard without any superfluous decoration. It's just a fucking great song. Lame in the right places. The guitar tone kills me. And the song just goes on and on, for almost five minutes. It's exhausting, but it leaves you wanting more.
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Go figure. Following an image search of Sarah Vaughn, I ended up on a site called Time Goes By: What It's Really Like To Get Old. Yikes! After digging around their weekly music posts, because the columnist had good taste, I ran into one about Willy DeVille. Judging by the vintage of other music posts, the columnist was going rogue on this one. I'm sure it caused quite a stir at the shuffleboard courts. But it's a great post, ten songs with a blurb about each, from his early stuff with Mink DeVille to later solo stuff, including a duet with Brenda Lee. Yee haw.
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Well, what do we have here? A post at Mustard Relics titled "Epic Tunes". Technically even two epic tunes would be truth in advertising, but there's a bunch of them. About fifty songs, from the very first recording ever (1860) up through NWA (1988). Doubt the possible epicnicity of them? Charley Patton, Arthur Crudup? The Sonics, Stooges, MC5, the Seeds, the Monks? The Modern Lovers, Death, Middle Class, the Legendary Stardust Cowboy?! Even if all of those names are familiar to you, there's probably a dozen or so others that you don't know of or haven't ever heard. Not a complete list by any means (The Haze? The Killer? Bo? Chuck?...), but a very worthy effort. What the hell, it gets me of the hook for the night.
I dig everything about this song. Start with the title, "Ka Ta Ga Boom Beat". Shit yeah, right? You know it's going to be good. And it is. The song is insanely repetitive; it seems like it's twice as long as it really is. And it's got this booming percussive and vocal rhythm thing going, with Shirley Ellis singing over it. Not so much with it, but over it. And to great effect. Add to that the horns, which are about the only thing glossy about it, and the very short fuzz guitar thing that only lasts a second or two, just long enough to catch your breath. Nice combo.
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This one is from a compilation of Romanian jazz, from a band called Orchestra Universtatii Jazz Din Illinois. Wait, what? The University of Illinois Jazz Band? On a Romanian Jazz conpilation? It turns out that the back in the day they were the best collegiate band in all the land, and did play in Europe in the late sixties. How Romania lays claim to them is anybody's guess. But it's sufficiently nuts. Dig the illustration above from one of their album covers. That's what sold me.
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Here's a couple things that I've got to post now and get it out of the way. Though the Skatalites had been here kind of a lot, I'd probably just loose track of these if I waited. If you dig the Skatalites, you know how rare it is to do an image search and come up with anything that isn't small, shitty quality, or includes just a few members. Rare it is that you find a posed promo photo, let alone a large one, worthy of printing out and putting on your fridge or whatever. Check this one. The image above is is an actual size detail. This thing is big. And cool man.
The other Skatalites thing is them doing a Beatles cover. Of course, it had to happen. I'm surprised that I forgot about this one, particularly since I've posted it before. Duh.
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I can't get enough of Jame's Brown's "Give It Up or Turnit a Loose". It's an awesome song, funky as JB gets, and up until a few hours ago I hadn't heard a version, be it a cover or one of several by Brown himself, that I didn't like. That streak has been broken. Today I heard a version of it by Dick Hyman, an early adopter of the Moog, the first commercially available analog synthesizer. Hyman pretty much banked on the novelty of the Moog, recording more pop oriented material then other early adopters. His version was released in 1969, the same year as Brown's original and is pretty out there for that early, but lacking the organic feel of the original. Funky it is not. To wit, I listened to it sitting down. I didn't even have an urge to get up and shake ass. Not so with other versions, particularly the Godfather's.
Besides Brown's original and instrumental versions, a rerecorded version and a remix, two members of Brown's extended funky family also recorded it, Lyn Collins and Marva Whitney, both maintaining the groove of the original. Black Randy and the Metro Squad's instrumental version, released on a predominantly punk label, sounds more like no wave ala the Contortions than funk or punk rock. That they were a fixture in the late seventies L.A. punk scene speaks to the diversity of the era. Like many records put out back then, in hindsight it's amazing that it exists at all.
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