I'm reading Ian Hunter's tour diary from 1972 with the unfortunate title Diary of a Rock 'n' Roll Star. It's from a U.S. tour, right about the time that "All the Young Dudes" was released. It's entertaining in a behind-the-scenes way. One of the big takeaways is something that happens every once in a while that makes me stop and smile, realizing that whatever you know about music, and no matter how long you've been listening to it, you sometimes find surprises. For instance, in this book he mentions that Crazy Horse's Danny Whitten had OD'd, adding that Mott the Hoople recorded one of his songs, "Downtown" on an early 45. I knew Whitten had played with Neil Young and wondered if it was the same song as Young's "(C'mon Baby Let's Go) Downtown", which it indeed was. What the hell? That's one of my favorite Neil Young songs and I love Mott the Hoople as well. How the hell did I not know this? And Mott's version came out earlier. Where did they get it from? Duh. Of course. Crazy Horse.
"Revolution Blues" is down there as parting gift. Or chips and salsa. Whatever, it's a good song, I dig it. But, if you check only one thing, do check the crunch of Young's "Downtown". Yee haw, it's a racket.
~ NOTE: ALL MEDIA IS HOSTED BY THE BLOGS & SITES NAMED BELOW ~
I was at Internet Archive, looking for something completely different when I saw a record called "Rockabilly Party" and it was on a 78. Release year, 1957. Could go either way. It went nowhere. But it is a piece of rare early rockabilly-sploitation. Then I noticed the lyrics were familiar, I knew where they were going, I'd never hear this song before. Then it hit me. Mott the Hoople lifted part of the lyrics for "Roll Away the Stone". So, that's where they got it. We can close that chapter. And Mott night it is. Including this hour and a half documentary.
~ NOTE: ALL MEDIA IS HOSTED BY THE BLOGS & SITES NAMED BELOW ~
I was talking music with a friend of mine today and mentioned that my younger brother had posted a Mott the Hoople thing on Facebook a couple days ago and how it had sent me right back to the boys room. The boys room, our shared bedroom, was rock 'n' roll ground zero for my brothers and I, all through our teens until we came of age and moved out. When we did leave home, we did so with our own part of the record collection that had grown over the years with surprisingly little overlapping. Having little duplication, it was a little daunting having to decide what part of the other brothers' collections to go out and buy for ourselves. Think about that, two thirds of the vinyl that you've had access to, gone the day you move out of the house.
One LP that was almost immediately purchased by both my twin brother and I was Mott the Hoople's Mott. We all had our own bands in the boys room and Mott the Hoople was my one of my younger brother's. The other two of us couldn't be without it. It's remained a favorite ever since and every time I listen to it I think of my bros. So, you can imagine the horror of finding out my friend who I'd been talking music with today was not familiar with Mott the Hoople. He's half my age so it really isn't all that surprising. But it made me think that I'd better post Mott the Hoople stuff to pass the torch handed to me by my thirteen year old brother.
~ NOTE: ALL MEDIA IS HOSTED BY THE BLOGS & SITES NAMED BELOW ~
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!
~ NOTE: ALL MEDIA IS HOSTED BY THE BLOGS & SITES NAMED BELOW ~
If you're at all familiar with Mott the Hoople, you know they've got a thing for old rock 'n' roll, or as they referred to it as "The Golden Age of Rock 'n' Roll". There's scattered lyrical references, a line here or there, and complete songs. I like that. They didn't shy away from acknowledging that lineage, something that wasn't all that common among their glam peers. (Just how did they get thrown into that category anyway?). So, though I hadn't heard it before tonight, I wasn't all that surprised when I heard "Barking Up the Wrong Tree", a song buried on a three disc compilation. It's a rockabilly song It makes sense. Forehead slapping sense. Mott doing rockabilly. Of course.
I don't know the story behind it, because I don't have the compilation, but judging by the goofy dialog at the beginning, it may be a demo. Gene Vincent and the Blue Caps, it's not. But it is good, and it's Mott the Hoople, and I like Mott the Hoople. If you like Mott the Hoople too, check the documentary at YouTube. Guy Stevens even gets a chunk. Good, he deserved it.
~ NOTE: ALL MEDIA IS HOSTED BY THE BLOGS & SITES NAMED BELOW ~
Yes Mops fans, we heard you loud and clear. You wanted more Mops. It's Mops mania. Crazy about the Mops. Hooked on Mops. Sweatin' to the Mops. Now, that's what I call Mops! Did a little more digging for stuff about them, and started thinking about other bands that had self-referential song titles. The first that came to mind were the Monkees' "(Hey, Hey) We're the Monkees," and then the Monks' "Monk Time," and Mott the Hoople's "The Ballad of Mott the Hoople." Do you see a pattern? All of those names start with "Mo". Of course, that doesn't mean shit, because the next one I thought of was the Gories' "Hey, Hey, We're the Gories." Pledge break!:
So I found a video, a clip from a Japanese movie, that has the Mops playing from the back of of a flat bed truck, ala Jerry Lee. One of the thing that sets this off in a weird way from the git-go is that the truck is parked at about a fifteen degree incline. It's a neat song, kind of reminded me of Captain Beefheart, for no particular reason.
So here's the Mops song that started a frenzy, some other Mops links, and four from the self-referential song title tangent. All unrelated killer, no unrelated filler.
~ NOTE: ALL MEDIA IS HOSTED BY THE BLOGS & SITES NAMED BELOW ~
I don't know what year it was, sometime after Mott the Hoople broke up, when Ian Hunter was touring with Mick Ronson. I went to see Hunter with my younger brother (who was, and still is, a diehard Mott freak), and a couple other guys. Having never seen Mott the Hoople live, it was bittersweet, not because we weren't seeing the Mott (we were, after all, getting to see him with Mick Ronson) but because the show was being held in the gymnasium of a local college, hardly an optimum venue. The sound was not what you'd hope for, in fact it flat out sucked. Still, it was Ian Hunter with Mick Ronson. I kept trying to block out the negative aspects and just enjoy it for what it was.
It was about mid-show, when my friend, Larry, took the wind right outta the sails. You know how sometimes people, when they're under the influence, can say something that is so dead on, that you wonder if they could have come up with it if they were straight? Mid-song, my friend Larry, who had ingested something more potent than alcohol, leans over to me and says "he's got to feel pretty silly down there." It stung, because he was absolutely right. There was Ian Hunter, with a top hat on, all dolled up, trademark shades and all, surrounded by the smoke from a fog machine, in the middle of a gymnasium floor. The audience was on the bleachers. Ian Hunter had been reduced to a pep rally.
That sad image stuck with me for years. I tried to block out the memory the best I could, but it would still reoccur. It was as if the splendor had been ripped out of Ian Hunter's life, and I had a hard time imagining him the recipient of the respect that he deserved. That was until another friend posted a video of Hunter online. It's Hunter, David Bowie, and Mick Ronson, at the Freddie Mercury tribute concert held in a packed Wembley Stadium, in 1992. They're playing with the Mercury-less Queen. The song, "All the Young Dudes," was written by Bowie, and given to Mott the Hoople in the early seventies. To say that the three are in their element, and know it, is an understatement. They're absolutely relishing it. Bowie in particular. At about 1:33 he says something in Ronson's ear, and you can almost hear him saying, "Isn't this fuckin' great?" The dude is feeling it. If you were to ask me a month ago, if the sight of a blissed out David Bowie would be watchable, I'd tell you to get out of my house. But, this sucker made me temporarily drop my Bowie hatchet. (It's bliss time at 2:25 in the clip.) I have come to the stark, and adult, realization that I don't have to like much about Bowie. This and that is okay. He doesn't have to "touch my soul," he just has to make a few songs that make me move, or make me think. That he can do.
Anyway, here's some Hunter, Bowie and Ronson stuff. The video I just mentioned is the one above. You have to check out the Mott the Hoople video of the same song, below. It is worthy. And the music...I forgot that some of these songs had so much going on in them. If you haven't heard them in a while, take a minute. And check that Bowie/Booker T mash up too. It's interesting, and surprisingly good.
~ NOTE: ALL MEDIA IS HOSTED BY THE BLOGS & SITES NAMED BELOW ~
