Quick. What pops into your head when I say “Blue Öyster Cult”? (and note that it took me like 15 minutes to figure out how to get the umlaut over the O). First thing is “Don’t Fear the Reaper”, right? And the second thing is “just another one-hit wonder”.
At least that’s what popped into MY head. Until I was window-shopping on Amazon and saw a BÖC box set on offer. First, I was astonished to see that it was 16 frickin’ CDs. And then I was even more astonished that the box came with a download code for four additional disks of live concerts. Yes, that’s 20 disks of music from a band you thought had their seven minutes and some-odd seconds of fame in the 70s with (admittedly pretty good) FM radio hit “Reaper”.
I dithered over it for a while. Listened to the fragments of each song that Amazon offers as purchase inducement. Read some of the reviews. Decided to take the plunge.
Well. Turns out that BÖC (love that umlaut) were far more than one-hit wonders.
OK, you’re probably thinking. More than one-hit wonders. Yeah. But are they 20 disks worth of more than one-hit wonders?
Well…yeah, they are. Let’s start with lyrics. These are not typical lost love, unrequited love, past love, need love, can’t find love pop poems. There’s a song about the Messerschmitt ME 262, a jet fighter aircraft that, had it been used in timely fashion by Germany in World War Two (it was available beginning in 1941, before the allies had workable jet technology or even advanced piston engine fighters like the P-51 and P-47), might well have altered or at least extended the outcome of the war. Then there’s this ditty: “This ain’t the garden of Eden, there ain’t no angels above, and things ain’t what they used to be, and this ain’t the Summer of Love”, from the album Agents of Fortune in 1976.
But the real treat across all of this massive horde of music is the guitars. These guys knew how to throw electric guitars into a mix, like some unholy genetically engineered spawn of Jimi Hendrix and Keith Richards. In fact, they had a concert gimmick where they ended up with five guitars on stage for a fan favorite that held up year after year.
So. Not a one-hit wonder. Rather, a heavy contribution to rock history, extremely listenable music, gorgeous guitars, pounding drums. No Household Should Be Without. And don’t forget to download the additional concert disks!
Quick. What pops into your head when I say “Blue Öyster Cult”? (and note that it took me like 15 minutes to figure out how to get the umlaut over the O). First thing is “Don’t Fear the Reaper”, right? And the second thing is “just another one-hit wonder”.
At least that’s what popped into MY head. Until I was window-shopping on Amazon and saw a BÖC box set on offer. First, I was astonished to see that it was 16 frickin’ CDs. And then I was even more astonished that the box came with a download code for four additional disks of live concerts. Yes, that’s 20 disks of music from a band you thought had their seven minutes and some-odd seconds of fame in the 70s with (admittedly pretty good) FM radio hit “Reaper”.
I dithered over it for a while. Listened to the fragments of each song that Amazon offers as purchase inducement. Read some of the reviews. Decided to take the plunge.
Well. Turns out that BÖC (love that umlaut) were far more than one-hit wonders.
OK, you’re probably thinking. More than one-hit wonders. Yeah. But are they 20 disks worth of more than one-hit wonders?
Well…yeah, they are. Let’s start with lyrics. These are not typical lost love, unrequited love, past love, need love, can’t find love pop poems. There’s a song about the Messerschmitt ME 262, a jet fighter aircraft that, had it been used in timely fashion by Germany in World War Two (it was available beginning in 1941, before the allies had workable jet technology or even advanced piston engine fighters like the P-51 and P-47), might well have altered or at least extended the outcome of the war. Then there’s this ditty: “This ain’t the garden of Eden, there ain’t no angels above, and things ain’t what they used to be, and this ain’t the Summer of Love”, from the album Agents of Fortune in 1976.
But the real treat across all of this massive horde of music is the guitars. These guys knew how to throw electric guitars into a mix, like some unholy genetically engineered spawn of Jimi Hendrix and Keith Richards. In fact, they had a concert gimmick where they ended up with five guitars on stage for a fan favorite that held up year after year.
So. Not a one-hit wonder. Rather, a heavy contribution to rock history, extremely listenable music, gorgeous guitars, pounding drums. No Household Should Be Without. And don’t forget to download the additional concert disks!
Imitation and Flattery
The Who, under Pete Townsend’s song writing leadership, became a live act beyond compare. The Beatles were tame and content to mimic their studio selves on stage. The Stones, while providing some theatrical flourishes, were similarly inclined to simply play less-produced versions of the songs most recently released (which penchant—good word, no?—continues to the present day). But The Who deconstructed their studio selves into a completely different—and more ravaging—beast on stage. Like a good artists, The Who had their imitators. One of the best was a five piece outfit called The Move. They borrowed The Who’s Theater of Destruction microphone-throwing, guitar-smashing, drum-exploding stage act. They were never as good as The Who at improvisation. Which is not much of a knock. Nobody could equal the long, Coltrane-like codas to Magic Bus and May Generation from the 1968 and 1969 tours.
But. They were a good act, with strong song writing and an attempt to go The Who one better by smashing up televisions and other household items along with the guitars and drums. Until recently, it was difficult to track down much stuff by The Move. However, in 2008 an outfit called Salvo Records issued a completest 4 disk set of Move material, both studio and live. It’s available for a bargain price on Amazon U.S. And it’s fabulous. A listen all the way through the 4 CDs demonstrates that The Move were in fact more than Who imitators. They had a distinctive and rocking style that transcended many personnel changes over the course of a short career.
This box set is highly recommended. Rating a No Household Should Be Without. Get yours while it’s still available!
Old Guard Still Marching
Much as I love Neil Young, I have yet to get up the nerve to purchase his massive box set of decades worth of music. I’m not sure why—maybe it’s just the gigantic price tag. Although that usually wouldn’t stop me. After all, I paid $100 for my 10 CD box of Hank Williams.
What I DID purchase recently, at a cost substantially less than $100 (more like $40, and it came with free digital download along with the CDs) is a recently issued 4 disk set of Stephen Stills. This box is AWESOME. Especially for someone like me, who never bothered to upgrade his CS&N and CSN&Y from vinyl to CD. Part of the reason is the same as why I haven’t purchased all the Beatle’s stuff on CD. I know every note by heart. The nice thing about this Stills box is that it makes a real effort to bypass the trite and go for the throat. Thus, many of the songs you know note-for-note are here in different, and more interesting, versions.
The box is called “Carry On”, of course. And it is absolutely excellent. No Household Should Be Without. Highly recommended. Go now and Carry On!
Gimme That Old Time Religion—And So Much More
I’ve been having trouble sleeping. My radiation and chemotherapy are coming to an end, and between the pain in my mouth and throat, the generation of masses of sticky mucous, and an active imagination wondering where my physiology goes from here, I mostly snooze in bed with a renewable supply of music videos playing all night. Soothing, and I hear some damned good music every night.
Last night I dug around the heap of DVDs and found the super-deluxe multi-CD version of Elvis Presley’s comeback special in Las Vegas in 1968. Elvis’ comeback may be the sole bright spot in that otherwise foul year. And it IS a bright spot. This set has all 4 of the smaller shows done with his original band, along with multiple angles, takes, versions, and interesting obscurities from the main show.
This stuff is fabulous. No household should be without. And every household should be watching regularly. There are nuances piled on nuances here, and the shows are worth watching repeatedly. Go thou and slick down your hair, build up your guitar skills, and figure out how to charm the hell out of audiences of young ladies despite a paunch and many silly clothes changes. Great, great TV. By one of the great, great masters of rock and roll!
This week in the hospital I was looking for some new, preferably well-outside-the-box music to get me through the physiological insults of the radiation and chemotherapy. I found on my shelves two 4 disk sets of King Crimson retrospective, prepared by Robert Fripp himself. I loaded it up. It is absolutely fantastic. Remember how fabulous their first album, In the Court of the Crimson King, was? Well, their work since then only reinforces the fact that Fripp and whatever cadre of musicians he assembles are absolutely awesome. These 8 disks in 2 box sets? Excellent. No household should be without.
And then, two shelves over, I found a two volume set of live bootlegs from the original lineup, mostly at Fillmores East and West. Even better! King Crimson—go for it!!!
Simple Soul Power
While poking around for music to get me through a hellish week last week, and get me past my writer’s block this weekend, I happened on Amazon’s uploads for the two albums the Buddy Miles Express cut in the late 60s. I’d almost forgotten how fantastic these albums are. Miles plays pure, ungimmicked, let-‘em-ring, full resonance drums. A lesson for anyone used to today’s treated, pedaled, taped and roped percussion sections. Plus you get high-powered horns that drive the music better than the horns on Quadrophenia. And, almost as lagniappe, you get Jim McCarty (of Cactus) on guitar, providing outstanding lead, backing, and even acoustic on some cuts. I’m glad Jimi Hendrix had the good sense to record with Miles. Set him up perfectly for working with Miles Davis, which would have been his next project, had he survived.
Anyway. Buddy Miles Express’ two albums—Expressway to Your Skull and Them Changes—come Highly Recommended. No Home Should Be Without. And it’s so easy to upload ‘em from Amazon, there’s no excuse for any home to lack them!
Rock for Ages
Before Alice Cooper, before Marilyn Manson, before Doctor John’s first album, even before Arthur Brown, there was Screamin’ Jay Hawkins. On record he strikes you as an off-center blues guy, rockin’ out like some mash-up of Doctor John and Albert Collins. Then you listen a little closer, remembering that Hawkins wrote “I Put a Spell on You”, recorded by…well, pretty much everyone. Turns out he was more innovative than off-center, and worked with outstanding backing musicians, including Mickey Baker, to craft a weird, sometimes scary, sometimes funny, blues subgenre. He actually earned his living by providing rock theater to 50s audiences whose closest brush with anything this wacky had to come from regional theater companies butchering Italian opera.
Hawkins’ stage show had him climbing out of a coffin with his primary prop, a flaming human skull named Henry. Pyrotechnics were part of his act. The whole thing must’ve been hard to pull off in the 20 minute allotments of an Alan Freed show, but somehow he made it work. Highly recommended, no family should be without. Best way to access most of his worthwhile stuff is to grab the two disk “Weird and Then Some” best of collection on Jasmine Records (photo above).
Dreaming a Death Song
I had a nasty bout of vomiting this week. This is a problem from several perspectives, not least of which is that I’m having a hell of a time keeping my weight up. Every calorie counts. Also, because the surgeons have rearranged my throat infrastructure so weirdly, barfing feels like suffocating. Causing panic all out of perspective to the fact of a 24 hour virus.
Anyway, being unable to sleep last night until I’d seen every Pawn Stars twice, I drifted off. And dreamed the lyrics from Drugstore’s first album: “When God comes to me…I will be shaking…gun on my knees…my fingers waiting…gonna tell him I was born…mistaken…then I’m gonna let my fingers sleep…”.
Made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I don’t need a death song—yet. But when I do, I’ve got at least one candidate here!
Waitin’ Around to Die
Those of you old enough to remember the first incarnation of Lilith Fair in the 90s might be shocked to think that a group relegated to busking outside the entrance gate would amount to much. But your skepticism would be misplaced if you were thinking of The Be Good Tanyas. A trio singing gorgeous harmonies and playing quiet acoustic guitars has to have some stellar songwriting skills to make it beyond parody covers act. I fell in love with their murder-ballad-with-the-surprise-ending Waitin’ Around to Die about 10 years ago. Then I got ahold of all of all 3 of their excellent albums. Recently, Waitin’ Around to Die has come back to be my theme song. I listened to it over and over while deciding whether to heave myself back on the pyre of radiation therapy. In a sense, then, at least as of now, I can say The Be Good Tanyas saved my life, giving me the strength to slug it out with the cancer treatments one more time. Beyond that, though, all their stuff is fabulous. Highly recommended. All available, I believe, as downloads via Amazon, although hard copy CDs sometimes still turn up.
The fact that I am alive at the moment is a testament to the therapeutic power of radiation and chemical pharmaceuticals. The fact that I am able to function in a social situation, along with the fact that I am unable to eat or drink except via the tube in my gut is a tribute to the effectiveness of surgery. That my cancer remains unresolved and is going to demand additional treatment is just a pain in the ass.
We had an afternoon dinner party yesterday. Much of the Eastern Shore contingent attended, and the guys from UMD brought good wishes and gifts from the department whose course I had to give up on so early. Lex happened to be in town for a rugby tournament, and Darby drove up specially to attend.
To make it easy, we raided the prepared foods department at Wegman’s and bought dolmas, olives, dumplings, cheeses, meatballs, seafoods, and other finger foods. I made a huge salad with a dressing including spicy Moroccan Piri Piri, plus I boned a turkey, stuffed it with sausage, and served it swimming in a super-hyped couscous with glazed onions. Oh, and I also made appetizer rolls of pie dough filled with cream cheese, chives, and lox (the lox pieces at Wegman’s are fabulous). A good time was had by all, especially me.
We closed with a bet. If I manage to live until Thanksgiving, we are collectively going to open and consume to the bottom a fresh bottle of the Chinese shit.
Easy for me to say, because even if I manage to live that long, I’m not gonna be able to eat or drink. But, as those of you who might have tasted the Chinese shit over the years are aware, this dare is serious incentive. So contemplate the photo show below from yesterday’s party, and plan on seeing me on the hoof on Thanksgiving Day!
Oh. Don't forget to see cancer diary at http://www.endoftheworldpartdeux.blogspot.com/ , professional weekly piece at http://aehsfoundation.org/ (go to lower left of home page and click through to the blog), also check out spring photos and chapter 6 draft of the Urban Ecosystems book over at http://docviper.livejournal.com/ . Over, out, and love to you all!
