I suppose it's not all that surprising that a collection of funk would have these African jams in it. Shit, the beat was born there. With a bunch of funk from Western countries readily available, I always seem to gravitate towards the African tunes. I try not to over-analyze it. It might be because I dig engaging music that I'm not fully familiar with, which Africa seems to have a shit-ton of.
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Several months ago I was told that my favorite record store here in San Diego had closed. It was my favorite because it was well rounded. I really don't give a shit if a record store gets the latest release first, if they have all sorts of Record Store Day bonanzas or is a hipster hub. What I value in a record store is their overall selection and how well they know the music they're selling. The store nearest my house is big on new releases but either don't know music or are really shitty at curating. Their reggae section absolutely blows and they have nothing good in jazz other than the Miles Davis or Coltrane records that you already have. It kills me because they used to have a much better selection. (One of the buyers went to another record store.) So, yeah, I was bummed about the good record store closing. Even though they were a hassle to get to, I always left with multiple selections.
Last night I thought I'd see if I could find out why they closed. Within minutes I found out that they hadn't closed, they moved. Even better, they moved to a spot that's between me and the grocery store that I go to, so I don't even have to go out of my way or plan a half day excursion. Fu-huck yeah. I went there today and was in heaven. One litmus test for me is to check for lesser known artists. Today I checked for Fela. They had eight different Fela LPs on vinyl. That was a good sign. I move to the reggae. They had a shitload of good reggae, probably the best selection I've seen locally outside of a specialty reggae record store (RIP). I had to limit my time because I had plans but I still left with three solid keepers, all reggae. One was a compilation of Sound Dimension, the house band at Studio One (the cream of the crop in reggae studio players), for seven bucks. Another was a reggae DJ collection (U Roy, Prince Jazzbo, Big Youth, I Roy, and a few that I never heard of (!). That one was eight bucks. The killer deal was one I couldn't pass up. Dr. Alimantado's Best Dressed Chicken In Town, one of my favorite reggae albums of all time. For whatever reason, the album has gone out of print and then reissued a couple of times. When that happens I don't take chances, I have to have a back up copy (see also the Monks' Black Monk Time and Gene Vincent's first two LPs). I already have it on vinyl and CD, so this was a CD I already had, but it was only six bucks. I couldn't pass it up, if only to push it in a friends face. Here are a few from the LP, these recorded in the mid-seventies at King Tubby's. Those of you that know reggae will recognize a few of the riddims. Man, I can't wait to go back to that record store. This could be dangerous.
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Years ago when I was in my teens, a friend won some tickets to a concert and decided he didn't want to go. My brother and I never turned down free tickets to concerts especially if the concert was at the Sports Arena, where all the big names appeared (back when big names like the Stones or Led Zeppelin still played sports arenas). We lived only a couple miles from the venue so you could walk if you had to.
The bands were Commander Cody and the Lost Planet Airmen and the New Riders of the Purple Sage. My brother and I didn't know squat about either brand, other than Cody's "Hot Rod Lincoln which had been an unlikely hit a few years earlier. The concert was an eye opener, our first taste of country-fied rock that wasn't the Eagles or some singer songwriter stuff. Cody had a pedal steel player, Bobby Black, that kicked ass, not to mention Bill Kirchen, one of the most underappreciated pickers that ever picked up a Telecaster. Cody's band did stuff that bordered on rockabilly, some western swing type stuff and cry-in-your-beer bar jukebox type tear-jerkers. We fucking loved it. This was no small deal, particularly when you're talking about two teenagers that lived for hard rock guitar.
Here's a few from their breakthrough LP, Lost In the Ozone, along with a radio broadcast of a in-studio show from 1975. To really get a listen to the show I saw, check We Got A Live One Here, a live album from 1976. The sound is much better than the radio broadcast and you get some good between-song banter. This is like Deke Dickerson or Billy Strings if they were stoners in the seventies.
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I've got a lot of records but I'm not a record collector. I'm glad I'm not. What it was for me initially was a financial decision. I was trying to get out of debt so I'd question myself on every luxury item. When you already have a lot of records, adding more is a luxury. So I'd be in a record store and pick up an LP, let's just say the Everly Brothers, and before becoming attached to it, I'd ask myself, "When was the last time you played one of the Everly Brothers records you already have?" You can guess what the answer usually was. So, I'd tell myself, "No more Everly Brothers for you until you re-listen the records of theirs that you already have." It's totally logical and the gateway to breaking the habit of impulsive purchases. I'm mentioning that because there was a time that the Kenny and the Kasuals LP above was on my list. It was big bucks (probably about $30), and I told myself no. Try it. You'll be surprised. You don't have to have everything.
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Ho-ly shit, I never thought I'd find this online. What reason would one have for digitizing it? Metal Machine Music is one of the greatest albums of all time and it's almost entirely unlistenable. It's industrial music before industrial music was a thing. Grating? You bet. I like extreme shit and for the mid-seventies this was about as extreme as it got. I'd love to have a dinner party and blast a quadraphonic version of it from all four corners of the room. Alas, the downloads below are not from the 8-track tape version. That format will remain the white whale for now.
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It was pretty obvious from the get-go. The Pretty Things loved Bo Diddley. They named their band after one of his songs. Their first LP had four Bo Diddley covers on it and there's only twelve songs on the damn thing. (It also had two Chuck Berry covers.) Credit them, they definitely give Mr. Rectangle Guitar a run for his money with a good healthy youthful crunch. Also, check their bluesy take on Berry's "Don't Lie to Me".
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Here you go, a 1972 Goldie Hawn cover of Dylan's "I'll Be Your Baby Tonight". It's actually a pretty good version, she's backed by the Buckaroos, Buck Owens's backing band. I posted it a few years ago and that link died so here it is again along with covers of Dolly Parton and Bill Monroe. The Buckaroos are slick and Hawn's voice is much better than you'd expect.
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Okay, so the Rumblers' "Boss" is one of my favorite instrumentals of all time. It might not be yours, but there's something about it that I dig. It might be the repetition of a simple riff or the honking sax. Regardless, yesterday after hearing a few of their covers I realized that they're both inventive in their interpretations and slightly inept in their interpretations. Why the overuse of the whammy bar in "Rumble"? Instead of sounding tough like Link Wray's original, it sounds lethargic. You can't blame it on the tempo. Wray's was a slow mover too, but his sounds sinister. I know, I know. I'm judging a little too harshly. They were a young band (they formed in high school) and "Boss' lives up to it's name. The rest is added shake.
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I'm not really too sure what to think of these guys. It's basically early seventies hard rock of the pretend badass proto stoner rock meets death metal growl variety. On some. On others it's pretty. I have no doubts that this is someone's white whale, it probably has a cult following among stoner rock historians. Apologies to them. I gotta say it though, the vocals and lyrics on the three below fucking crack me up. The combination of the over earnest attempt at a gravelly "dangerous" type voice and ridiculous lyrics ends up sounding like a parody. What sold me was the delivery of the first two words on "Natural". After about twenty seconds of a fairly meaty riff, "Heyy mama...". Shit, how can you not listen further?
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Gads! I was getting my hair cut yesterday in my buddy's garage. He used to be in punk bands so talk generally falls on the subject at some point. Yesterday in the course of our conversation I found out that he had never heard the Modern Lovers or the Saints (above). What? We can't be having that. So, these suckers have been posted before but it's clear there's work to do.
Here's a couple from both bands. Note: If you dig them and want to go a step further, start with their first albums especially in the case of the Modern Lovers. Anything after their first album is done by a different band, that pales in comparison.
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Yo, it's Upsetter time! The film about Lee Perry, The Upsetter: The Life & Music of Lee "Scratch" Perry, is back online, though probably not for long. (Posted in four parts, links below.) The documentary is getting reissued on DVD and there is an interview with the filmmaker at Aquarium Drunkard (who showed their reggae know-how by referring to Perry as “Lee” Scratch Perry instead of putting "Scratch" in quotes). The interview is pretty interesting and there's a couple clips as well. Blah blah blah. Oh yeah, did you know that Perry did some commercials for Guiness? What was he thinking? What were they thinking? What was it with him? Genius or happy accident? You decide.
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What the hell, here's a handful of covers from the fifties that you might not have guessed were covers. Depending on your age, extent of rock 'n' roll knowledge and listening habits, you might not even be familiar with the songs at all. If so, get busy. These are songs I've heard a thousand times, but hearing them back to back, it hit me. I was reminded how much I dig the lyrics of this era of music, a little swagger and heavy on cool lingo. Plus they all also rock. [Note: "Keep a Knockin'" has been credited to several, including Little Richard. I'm listing it as found.]
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I'm not a big fan of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I don't hate 'em, they just went soft over the years. I think their second LP was the last one I bought. That said, they were a breath of fresh air when their first LP came out. With the exception of some of Black Randy and the Metro Squad's stuff, it was the first time that funk, or signs of funk, were in a band that sprang from L.A.'s post-punk circles. Fast forward a few years and you get "Under the Bridge". Oh well., one less band to keep up with.
A few weeks ago I was in a book store and happened to see a book by Flea, the Red Hot Chili Pepper's bassist. He's always been the one Chili Pepper that seemed the key to their funk and the least concerned with rock star posing and all of the other trappings. Alas, I couldn't rationalize shelling out thirty bucks for a book I was likely to read only once. Then, about a week ago I was in a small library and they actually had it on the shelf. So I checked it out, along with a book about Pussy Riot and a biography of John Steinbeck. As a certified tightwad, I estimate the money that the library saved me was about eighty bucks. Libraries rule.
Flea's book, Acid For the Children is a memoir. You'd expect a lot of Red Hot Chili Peppers stories. Not the case here. The Chili Peppers don't even have their first gig until the last ten pages or so. That's good, because Flea's escapades growing up, and the incidents that formed his values and world view, are the draw here. It is one of the few rock memoirs I've read that didn't seem like the author was trying to puff up his own legacy. This is definitely a book from someone who hopes to pass on what he's learned from mistakes in the past, a three point shot at leaving the world a better place.
Gathering stuff to post I came across a movie he was in when he was 21, called Suburbia (above, for your viewing pleasure) and also some Flea demos, enough for an ersatz album. But wait, that's not all. Because I haven't followed the Chili Peppers for years, I had no idea that Flea actually had a legit solo album, Helen Burns, that he did with the Chili Pepper's drum tech. It's good, nothing all that earth shattering but really interesting, particularly his trumpet playing (until I read his book I had no idea he was a jazz freak). At the time of release (2007) he said "It is not a Chili Pepper record. It does not have songs that are like the Chili Peppers at all. It is a mostly instrumental, weird and arty record, the music is mostly just me creating soundscapes that are very emotional for me, but certainly not for everyone! Just me tripping out at home." Tripping out is right. Listen to the first cut of Helen Burns, "333". It's an eight minute trip.
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I saw that photo above and it was an "aha!" moment. I've thought about class struggles for a long time and I don't think I've ever seen a quote put it so succinctly. That divide, that goddamn divide. How the hell did the world allow billionaires to exist when people starve? I can remember when it first occurred to me that things were screwy. A minute and forty-one seconds that turned into a thought process that has endured. The Dils' second single "Class War" was the first song that made me really think about class struggle. They had already won my respect from their first 45, "I Hate the Rich", and live gigs, but "Class War" was a little more direct. Up to that point I had never really pondered far left politics and through the Dils it started to occur to me that there was a problem. When I started thinking about it, I realized I'd seen it. A kid I went to high school with was driving a brand new Porsche Carrera back and forth to school while just about everybody else walked, rode a bike or drove a beater.
Being far left isn't a bad thing. If you were to get out Occam's razor and boil it down, it amounts to this: Some people have too much. Far and away more than they need. Others don't have enough. Not enough food, clean drinking water, shoes, shelter,...shit, not even hope. There's no two ways about it. It is wrong. In 2002, when receiving the Nobel Peace Prize, former President Jimmy Carter had this to say:
"At the beginning of this new millennium I was asked to discuss, here in Oslo, the greatest challenge that the world faces. Among all the possible choices, I decided that the most serious and universal problem is the growing chasm between the richest and poorest people on earth. Citizens of the ten wealthiest countries are now seventy-five times richer than those who live in the ten poorest ones, and the separation is increasing every year, not only between nations but also within them. The results of this disparity are root causes of most of the world’s unresolved problems, including starvation, illiteracy, environmental degradation, violent conflict, and unnecessary illnesses that range from Guinea worm to HIV/AIDS."
What the fuck people? Occam's my man on this one. Anyway, that image with the sign got me thinking about shit all over again. But now it's decades later and there are socialists that don't shy away from the label. Bernie and AOL, these are my people. Jimmy Carter and Occam are my people. The Dils in 1978 were my people.
Here's a few Dil's/"Class War" related things. If you're already familiar with them, check the version the Kinman brothers (2/3 of the Dils) did as Blackbird. Total WTF.
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