Randy Newman – I Love L.A.

I cannot believe I’ve never posted a Randy Newman song. I first heard of him through Short People, and that is not counting the countless covers I’ve heard of his songs covered by other people.

Being a Dodgers fan, I get a little extra kick out of hearing this song. The Dodgers play I Love L.A. after they win at Dodger Stadium, so when I hear those opening notes, I automatically associate it with something good happening. It’s hard for me to separate the song from baseball now. A Dodgers win followed by Randy Newman is a pretty good combination.

Randy Newman released this song in 1983 on his album Trouble in Paradise. Newman grew up in Los Angeles, but this being Randy Newman, the song isn’t quite the straightforward love letter that the title suggests. He genuinely loved the city, but he was also poking fun at it. The beautiful weather, convertibles, and palm trees are all there, but so are the less glamorous parts of Los Angeles. Newman was always good at writing from the viewpoint of a character who might not completely understand what he was revealing about himself.

The song reportedly grew partly from a conversation Newman had with Don Henley. Henley suggested that Newman should write a song about the city. Newman also had an earlier unreleased song called Something to Sing About that dealt with some of the same ideas about wealth and the Southern California lifestyle. Those ideas eventually helped develop into I Love L.A.

There is some serious talent playing on the recording. Steve Lukather plays lead guitar, Jeff Porcaro is on drums, David Paich plays organ, Nathan East is on bass, and Waddy Wachtel plays rhythm guitar. Lindsey Buckingham and Christine McVie are among the backing singers. That’s quite a collection of musicians for a song that sounds so loose and simple when you first hear it. Lenny Waronker and Russ Titelman produced it.

I Love L.A. wasn’t a big hit when it was originally released. It didn’t even make the Billboard 100, although the video received plenty of airplay on MTV. The song gradually became much bigger than its original chart position. It was used in connection with the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics and eventually became something close to an unofficial anthem for the city.

The video helped sell the song. Newman cruises around Los Angeles in a red convertible while the scenery mentioned in the song passes by. Like the song itself, it’s difficult to tell exactly where the celebration ends and the joke begins. I think that’s part of the reason it has lasted. You can hear Newman having some fun with the place he loves. And…

I love L.A.

Especially after the Dodgers win.

I Love L.A.

Hate New York City
It’s cold and it’s damp
And all the people dressed like monkeys
Let’s leave Chicago to the Eskimos
That town’s a little bit too rugged
For you and me you bad girl

Rollin’ down the Imperial Highway
With a big nasty redhead at my side
Santa Ana winds blowing hot from the north
And we as born to ride

Roll down the window, put down the top
Crank up the Beach Boys, baby
Don’t let the music stop
We’re gonna ride it till
We just can’t ride it no more

From the South Bay to the Valley
From the West Side to the East Side
Everybody’s very happy
‘Cause the sun is shining all the time
Looks like another perfect day

I love L.A. (we love it)
I love L.A. (we love it)
We love it

Look at that mountain
Look at those trees
Look at that bum over there, man
He’s down on his knees
Look at these women
There ain’t nothing like ’em nowhere

Century Boulevard (we love it)
Victory Boulevard (we love it)
Santa Monica Boulevard (we love it)
Sixth Street (we love it, we love it)
We love L.A.

I love L.A. (we love it)
I love L.A. (we love it)
I love L.A. (we love it)

Alvin Lee featuring George Harrison – The Bluest Blues

I found this song after posting about Ten Years After. One of my readers, M.Y. (Thank you, M.Y.!) brought this one up. She told me about it, and I could not believe I missed it all these years. Put Alvin Lee and George Harrison together on one song, and you already have my attention. Then make it a slow blues with both of them playing guitar, and I’m not going anywhere. George remade himself when he learned slide. He was a good guitar player before, but he became a great one on slide. That is a compliment because I do like his regular playing as well, but the slide became his identity.

This is why I still love looking for new/old music. I’ve been listening to George Harrison for most of my life. I knew Alvin Lee through Ten Years After. Yet somehow The Bluest Blues slipped right past me. They complement each other so well in this song.

The song itself is simple and melodic. But the guitars are what make this one special for me. George Harrison comes in with that unmistakable slide sound and plays a solo that says more than a hundred notes could. Then Alvin Lee answers him in his own way.

Two completely different guitar players. Two completely recognizable sounds. And somehow they fit together perfectly. I can’t believe it took me this long to find it, but that’s the great thing about music. Another song is always hiding somewhere.

The Bluest Blues appeared on Alvin Lee’s Nineteen Ninety Four, originally released in 1993 and later issued in the United States under the title I Hear You Rockin’. Lee was joined by Steve Gould on bass, Alan Young on drums, Steve Grant on keyboards, and Tim Hinkley on Hammond organ. The special guest was George Harrison playing slide guitar. Harrison also appeared on Lee’s version of the Beatles’ I Want You (She’s So Heavy) on the same album.

Lee and Harrison weren’t strangers. They had known each other for years and had worked together before. Lee appeared on Harrison’s Ding Dong, Ding Dong, while Harrison had played with Lee on earlier recordings. By this time they were also neighbors in the Thames Valley area of England. It was one of those musical friendships that quietly produced some great music without getting a lot of attention.

What really gets me about this recording is the difference between the two guitar players. Alvin Lee became famous as the lightning-fast guitarist from Ten Years After, especially after Woodstock. George Harrison was almost the opposite. He wasn’t interested in playing the most notes. George had a way of making a guitar line sound like another voice in the song. He would play for the song completely.

George takes the first major slide solo, and if you’ve listened to him for years, you know it’s him almost immediately. Lee loved the solo himself. He said it was one of George’s best and praised its tenderness and melody. He also said hearing George changed his approach. Instead of playing the more aggressive solos he had been playing, Harrison inspired him to become more melodic.

That’s when the song really takes off. Lee stretches out during the second half and reminds you that there was much more to his playing than speed. His solo has plenty of technique, but there is also restraint and emotion. George doesn’t try to sound like Alvin, and Alvin doesn’t try to sound like George. That’s what makes the combination work.

The Bluest Blue

I couldn’t wait to see you, waiting by the door
There’s no one there to meet me, and your clothes are on the floor
Sorry if I hurt you, and I made you cry
Couldn’t stand to see you, with another guy
It’s the bluest blues, and it cuts me like a knife
It’s the bluest blues, since you walked out of my life

Couldn’t really tell you, how you hurt my pride
Something broke within me, down inside
I never knew I loved you, til you went away
Now the loneliness surrounds me, everyday
It’s the bluest blues, since you walked out of the door
It’s the bluest blues, ’cause I won’t see you no more

I’m sorry if I failed you, if somehow I’m to blame
It’s the bluest blues I’m feeling, it’s a cryin’ shame
I just can’t live without you, face another day
It’s the bluest blues I’m feeling, and it’s here to stay
It’s the bluest blues, and it cuts me to the bone
It’s the bluest blues, when you can’t find your way home

Brian Eno – Baby’s On Fire

I mostly knew Brian Eno through his work with Roxy Music and David Bowie. I knew his name long before I really started digging into his solo albums. When I heard Baby’s On Fire, though, the thing that immediately grabbed me was Robert Fripp’s guitar. You can tell it’s him. Fripp has one of those sounds that doesn’t get confused with anyone else.

The song appeared on Eno’s first solo album, Here Come the Warm Jets, released in 1974. Eno had left Roxy Music after two albums with the band. Instead of forming another regular group, he brought together musicians from several different bands for the sessions. Members of Roxy Music, King Crimson, Hawkwind, Matching Mole and others appeared on the album. This record is full of strange and catchy rock songs.

This song was recorded in September 1973 at Majestic Studios in London. Eno handled the vocals and synthesizer, with John Wetton on bass and Paul Rudolph on guitar. Simon King of Hawkwind played drums. But it’s Robert Fripp’s long guitar solo that dominates the recording. Fripp reportedly recorded several passes, and Eno selected and assembled the parts he wanted. The solo takes up a huge portion of the song, but it’s totally worth it. He is a guitar player who is instantly recognizable when he plays.

Fripp and Eno were already developing an interesting musical partnership around this time. In 1973, they recorded the experimental album (No Pussyfooting) together, using tape loops and Fripp’s guitar. Their collaboration would continue for decades. Eno would also work with David Bowie, most famously during the period that produced Low, Heroes and Lodger. Fripp himself would appear on Bowie’s Heroes and later Scary Monsters.

I came to Eno from the opposite direction. I knew Roxy Music and his work with Bowie, but I never explored his solo career nearly enough. This song is weird, catchy, and just a little unsettling. Then Fripp comes in and takes the song somewhere else entirely. I love guitar players who have their own voice, and Fripp certainly has one. Give me five seconds of that guitar, and I know who is playing. He likes to build up and then burst; no one does it like him.

Baby’s On Fire

Baby’s on fire
Better throw her in the water
Look at her laughing
Like a heifer to the slaughter

Baby’s on fire
And all the laughing boys are bitching
Waiting for photos
Oh the plot is so bewitching

Rescuers row row
Do your best to change the subject
Blow the wind blow blow
Lend some assistance to the object

Photographers snip snap
Take your time she’s only burning
This kind of experience
Is necessary for her learning

If you’ll be my flotsam
I could be half the man I used to
They said you were hot stuff
And that’s what baby’s been reduced to

Juanita and Juan
Very clever with maracas
Making their fortunes
Selling second-hand tobaccos

Juan dances at Chico’s
And when the clients are evicted
He empties the ashtrays
And pockets all that he’s collected

But baby’s on fire!
And all the instruments agree that
Her temperature’s rising
But any idiot would know that

Ten Years After – I’d Love To Change The World

I heard this song Saturday and knew I had to move it into Sunday’s post. I’ve heard this song many times over the years, but sometimes a song catches you differently on a particular day. I love that acoustic opening, and then Alvin Lee’s electric guitar comes cutting through it. His playing always had a sound of its own.

Ten Years After formed in England in the 1960s with Alvin Lee, Leo Lyons, Ric Lee, and Chick Churchill. They came out of the British blues scene, but they could stretch far beyond straight blues. Alvin Lee became the obvious focal point because of his guitar playing. Their appearance at Woodstock in 1969, particularly their performance of I’m Going Home, introduced the band to a much larger American audience.

I’d Love To Change The World was written by Alvin Lee and released on the 1971 album A Space in Time. It became their best-known song in America and reached the Top 40 on the Billboard Hot 100. The album was also a change for the band. There was more emphasis on songs and acoustic textures instead of the extended blues workouts they had become known for.

What I like about the song is the contrast. It starts quietly with that acoustic guitar while Lee sings about a world filled with division, inequality and confusion. Then the electric guitar enters and changes the entire atmosphere. His guitar doesn’t overwhelm the song. It answers it. Lee was known for playing incredibly fast, but this is a good example of why speed wasn’t the only thing he had going for him.

I hear this song, and I’m transported to the sixties. Guitarist Alvin Lee wrote and sang it. It peaked at #40 on the Billboard 100 and #10 in Canada. It’s been in many movies and TV shows. When I think of Ten Years After, I think of Woodstock and them playing “I’m Going Home” and Alvin Lee playing his guitar like it’s on fire…plus this one.

I’d Love To Change The World is over fifty years old now. Unfortunately, we still haven’t figured out what to do. Maybe that’s why it still sounds so good.

I’d Love To Change The World

Everywhere is freaks and hairies
Dykes and fairies, tell me where is sanity
Tax the rich, feed the poor
Till there are no rich no more?

I’d love to change the world
But I don’t know what to do
So I’ll leave it up to you

Population keeps on breeding
Nation bleeding, still more feeding economy
Life is funny, skies are sunny
Bees make honey, who needs money, Monopoly

I’d love to change the world
But I don’t know what to do
So I’ll leave it up to you

World pollution, there’s no solution
Institution, electrocution
Just black and white, rich or poor
Them and us, stop the war

I’d love to change the world
But I don’t know what to do
So I’ll leave it up to you

Silos – Tennessee Fire

I love songs that make me want to roll the windows down and keep driving, and this one does exactly that. The guitar intro hooks me every time, and once it starts, I’m in. The Silos never became a household name, but songs like this remind me why digging is worth it. Sometimes the best roads are the ones that don’t show up on everyone’s map. This one reminds me a little of Mellencamp.

Critics loved them, musicians admired them, and years later people realized they were helping build what would become alt-country. Formed in New York in 1985 by Walter Salas-Humara and Bob Rupe, they mixed rock, country, folk, and punk into something that felt original. Their 1987 album Cuba earned them Rolling Stone’s Best New American Band in the critics’ poll and influenced countless roots-rock bands that followed.

For me, this grabs you before Walter Salas-Humara even opens his mouth. That guitar intro has a purpose. It sounds like the beginning of a long drive with no real destination. Then the rhythm section kicks in, and the song settles into that steady beat. It isn’t clever songwriting. It’s just simple and honest, and that makes it even stronger.

What I like most is how naturally everything fits together. The guitars have just enough edge without overpowering the melody. Their influences were Tom Petty, John Mellencamp, the Velvet Underground, and Gram Parsons. That combination you would hear more in alt-country.

Tennessee Fire

See you soon, but not like this
Afraid I am to think
I haven’t heard
I haven’t heard from you in weeks

All your letters, photographs
So far out of reach

Driving by the moonlight
Haven’t seen a service station in thirty miles or so
I’m running out of gasoline

All your letters, photographs
So far out of reach

High road, low road
Rolling on and on
Tennessee fire
Is it so far

Driving by the moonlight
Haven’t seen a service station in fifty miles or so
I sing along
I sing along to
I sing along to the radio

High road, low road
Rolling on and on
Tennessee fire
Is it so far

Ohio
Leaving you behind

Uncle Tupelo – Graveyard Shift

The first thing that got me was that guitar riff. It has a raw sound that I love, but Graveyard Shift has much more going for it than a good riff. Farrar sings it like someone who has already lived through everything he is singing about. That is what surprised me when I watched the 1989 performance. These guys were young, but they didn’t sound young.

There is country in there. There is punk in there. There is some garage rock as well. Most of all, though, it sounds honest. Uncle Tupelo wasn’t trying to make old country music or follow what rock music was doing at the time. They took all of it and made something that sounded like them. And that riff doesn’t hurt either.

They were formed in Belleville, Illinois, with Jay Farrar, Jeff Tweedy, and Mike Heidorn at the heart of the original band. They took country and folk influences and mixed them with the harder sounds of punk and alternative rock. Farrar has said they were listening to bands such as Hüsker Dü while also drawing lyrical inspiration from Woody Guthrie and Bob Dylan. That combination helped create the sound that would eventually be called alternative country or Americana.

Graveyard Shift was written by Farrar, Tweedy, and Heidorn and became the opening track on their 1990 debut album No Depression. Farrar takes the lead vocal, and the song sounds like the area the band came from. Belleville had been hit hard during the late 70s to the 80s. That frustration found its way into his writing. The song is about wanting to escape a place where times were tough. The music matches the lyrics perfectly. That riff keeps pushing forward while the rhythm stops, starts, and changes direction underneath it.

The live video I found was recorded in 1989, before No Depression was released. It was aired on St. Louis television in November. Watching them play it then is strange because it’s so raw. They look like three kids playing, yet the sound is already there.

Uncle Tupelo would only last until 1994, but what came afterward tells you something about the talent in that little band. Farrar formed Son Volt, while Tweedy went on to form Wilco. Their influence also lasted much longer than the band itself. The title No Depression was eventually adopted by the magazine devoted to the kind of roots and alt-country music Uncle Tupelo helped bring.

Graveyard Shift

Hometown, same town blues
Same old walls closing in
Oh what a life a mess can be
I’m sitting here thinking of you once again
Won’t you talk to me

Well, time won’t wait, better open the gate
Get up and start what needs to be done
It’s winding down, there’s much you missed
Working on that graveyard shift

Well, I’m not saying there’s nothing wrong as the day comes along
If what I see is true I could learn to believe
Can’t look away
The powers that be might take it all away
Together we burn, together we burn away

Some say a land of paradise
Some say a land of pain
Well, which side are you looking from
Some people have it all
Some all to gain

Well a man in a tie gonna break his twenty dollar bill
There’s plenty of reasons in this world
We’re no longer standing still

But I’m not saying there’s nothing wrong as the day comes along
If what I see is true I could learn to believe
Can’t look away
The powers that be might take it all away
Together we burn, together we burn away

There’s too much time spent looking for a reason
It’s the simple ones that beat the most truth
Oh, what a life a mess can be
I’m sitting here thinking of you once again
Give a thought to me

Well, time won’t wait, better open the gate
Get up and start what needs to be done
It’s running down, there’s much you missed
Working on that graveyard shift

But I’m not saying there’s nothing wrong as the day comes along
If what I see is true I could learn to believe
Can’t look away
The powers that be might take it all away
Together we burn, together we burn away

Carmel – Bad Day

I just found this band recently, and this song caught my attention. It’s part jazz, soul, blues, and pop, and Carmel McCourt has a voice that makes you stop and listen. I can hear a few decades in the music, and I like that.

Carmel formed in Manchester in 1981 with McCourt on vocals, Jim Parris on bass, and Gerry Darby on drums and percussion. They were basically a trio, but they could sound much larger. Their music wasn’t easy to fit into a single category. They could move from jazz to gospel and blues with ease. They appeared at the ICA Rock Week in 1983, which helped lead to a deal with London Records. The band also sold out Ronnie Scott’s famous jazz club.

Bad Day was released in 1983 and became their breakthrough. One name in the credits jumped out at me immediately. Steve Nieve of Elvis Costello and the Attractions played keyboards on the song. Helen Watson and Rush Winters added backing vocals, which help give the record its gospel feel. The song later appeared on Carmel’s album The Drum Is Everything.

What caught me was how little this sounds like a typical record from 1983. There aren’t many production tricks getting in the way. The rhythm section is strong, along with McCourt’s powerful vocal. I can hear jazz in it, but I hear just as much soul and blues. The song peaked at #15 in the UK in 1983.

Bad Day

A hoo, hoo, a hoo, hoo, a hoo, hoo, a hoo, hoo

Ba ba ber dun ba ba, ber dun ba ba, ber dun ba ba

Bad day, bad day
Bad day when you wake up and you find out your dreams flown away
Don’t run away now, don’t be afraid be strong yeah, be strong now (?) Oh no

You better trust your faith, you better hide your tears (don’t, don’t cry, don’t, don’t cry)
Now everything you had has gone
This world keeps rolling on! Bad days come and bad days go away (?) oh no, oh no yeah!

Ah ah ah ah, ah ah ah ah, ah ah ah ah, ah ah ah ah

I heard, I heard about this (?) (What you say? What you say? What you say?)
I heard, i heard about this (?) (What you say? What you say? What you say?)

I say bad day, (bad day) bad day (bad day) now bad day (bad day)
Bad day you better go away now!
Now you better run away yeah!
I’m giving hope!
I’m giving hope!
I’m giving hope!
I’m giving hope yeah!

So bad day, bad day, bad day, ah you better run away now!
Ah you better go away

Mott the Hoople – All The Young Dudes

There are songs that become so connected to a band that it’s easy to forget they didn’t write them. All The Young Dudes is one of those songs for me. David Bowie wrote it and you can certainly hear Bowie all over it, but Ian Hunter’s voice made it belong to Mott the Hoople. Hunter has always been one of my favorite singers. He doesn’t have one of those perfect voices, and that’s exactly why I like him. There is personality and feel in every word.

By 1972, Mott the Hoople were in trouble. The band had built a loyal following as a terrific live act, but record sales weren’t matching their reputation, and they were considering breaking up. David Bowie was a fan and didn’t want to see that happen. He initially offered them Suffragette City, which they turned down. Bowie then played them a new song he had written called All the Young Dudes. This time they knew he had something.

Bowie produced their recording and also contributed backing vocals. The single was released in 1972 and became a hit in the UK, becoming the song that saved Mott the Hoople. It also gave the band their breakthrough in America. The song became closely associated with the glam-rock movement, although Mott never sounded quite like the other glam bands to me. There was always more straight-ahead rock and roll underneath everything they did.

What I love is how much it sounds like Bowie without Ian Hunter ever trying to be Bowie. You have Bowie’s melody, words, and production, but then that unmistakable Hunter voice comes through the speakers. Bowie later recorded versions himself, but Mott’s is the one. Bowie gave them the song, and Ian Hunter and Mott the Hoople gave it its identity.

Give me a singer with character over a technically perfect singer almost every time (and this has nothing to do with Bowie; I like his voice). This has that great slow build and a chorus made for a crowd to sing. Bowie may have written it, but when I hear that opening guitar and then Ian Hunter comes in, I don’t think of anyone else.

Mott the Hoople does a great job on this. This era is my favorite of David Bowie… All the Ziggy Stardust music (which this was originally written for) and the Hunky Dory album…not that any era of Bowie is bad.

David Bowie on writing the song for The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars album

David Bowie: “Ziggy was in a rock ‘n’ roll band, and the kids no longer want rock ‘n’ roll, there’s no electricity to play it. Ziggy’s adviser tells him to collect news and sing it, ’cause there is no news. So Ziggy does this, and there is terrible news. ‘All the Young Dudes’ is a song about this news. It is no hymn to the youth as people thought. It is completely the opposite.”

The song peaked at #37 on the Billboard 100, #31 in Canada, and #3 in the UK in 1972.

 

All The Young Dudes

Well, Billy rapped all night about his suicideHow he’d kick it in the head when he was 25Speed jive, don’t want to stay aliveWhen you’re 25

And Wendy’s stealing clothes from Marks & SparksAnd Freddy’s got spots from ripping off the stars from his faceFunky little boat raceTelevision man is crazy saying we’re juvenile delinquent wrecksOh, man, I need TV when I’ve got T.RexOh brother, you guessedI’m a dude, dad

All the young dudes (hey dudes!)Carry the news (where are you?)Boogaloo dudes (stand up, c’mon)Carry the news

All the young dudes (I want to hear you)Carry the news (I want to see you)Boogaloo dudes (I want to talk to you, all of you)Carry the news (now)

Lucy looks sweet ’cause he dresses like a queenBut he can kick like a mule, it’s a real mean teamBut we can loveOh, yes, we can love

And my brother’s back at home with his Beatles and his StonesWe never got it off on that revolution stuffWhat a drag, too many snagsNow I’ve drunk a lot of wine and I’m feeling fineGot to race some cat to bedOh, is that concrete all aroundOr is it in my head? YeahI’m a dude, dad

All the young dudes (hey dudes)Carry the news (where are you?)Boogaloo dudes (stand up)Carry the news

All the young dudes (I want to hear you)Carry the news (I want to see you)Boogaloo dudes (I want to relate to you)Carry the news

All the young dudes (what dudes?)Carry the news (let’s hear the news, c’mon)Boogaloo dudes (I want to kick you)Carry the news

All the young dudes (with the glasses)Carry the news (I want you)Boogaloo dudes (I want you in the front)Carry the news (now)

All the young dudes (now you bring him down)(‘Cause I want him)Carry the newsBoogaloo dudes (I want him right here)(Bring him, c’mon)Carry the news (bring him)

All the young dudes (I’ve wanted to do this for years)Carry the news (there you go!)Boogaloo dudes (how’d it feel?)Carry the news

10cc – Modern Man Blues

10cc is one of those bands that I keep coming back to because you never know exactly what you are going to get. They could make some of the smartest pop music around and then turn around and play something completely different. They had a sense of humor that ran through much of their music, along with being good musicians and songwriters.

This is a song that caught my attention because it sounds like 10cc taking an older form of music and running it through their style. The blues influence is there, but this isn’t a band trying to convince you they came straight out of the Mississippi Delta. That slightly off-center 10cc humor is there, and that made them difficult to put in a box.

By this period, 10cc had changed considerably from the original lineup of Eric Stewart, Graham Gouldman, Kevin Godley, and Lol Creme. Godley and Creme had left in 1976, leaving Stewart and Gouldman to continue the band. They still managed a huge hit with “Dreadlock Holiday” (we will see later) in 1978 before moving into the 1980s with Look Hear?. The album arrived after a difficult period for Stewart, who had been seriously injured in a car accident in early 1979 and temporarily suffered problems with both his sight and hearing.

What I like about it is that it doesn’t sound like 10cc simply checking off the blues box. They were too quirky for that. They could take a familiar style and twist it enough to make it their own. That is one reason I’ve always liked this band. Even when they tried different things, it was always interesting.

Since I mentioned “Dreadlock Holiday…” Eric Stewart and Graham Gouldman wrote the song after experiences they had while traveling in the Caribbean, mixing things that actually happened with fictional elements. Gouldman later explained that the idea was partly to poke fun at a white tourist trying desperately to appear cool.

The song peaked at number 1 in the UK.

The video might be as entertaining as the song. It was directed by Storm Thorgerson, one of the founders of Hipgnosis, the design team responsible for some of rock’s most recognizable album covers. The video plays the song’s story broadly, with Eric Stewart wandering into increasingly ridiculous trouble while the rest of the band eventually turns up. It has that wonderfully strange late-70s quality where you get the feeling somebody said, “We have four minutes, a beach and some costumes…let’s make a video.”

Modern Man Blues

I’m tired Lord and I’m drawn
And I’m chilled right to the bone
I crawled home from my work
And this note said she was gone
Said your dinner’s in the cat
And your love is out the door
I’m goin’ back to my momma
And I don’t want you no more, no more
She said she don’t want me no more
She’s gone back to her momma
Said she’s never never comin’ back no more

Now a man can take so much
And only heaven knows his limit
But a naggin’ bitchin’ woman
Digs a hole and puts him in it
A sophisticated man
Needs a little something on the side
So what you don’t get at home
You’ve gotta get outside, hey

She’s gone
I’m spending all of my money
She’s gone, gone, gone
And I can swing with my honey
She’s gone
I’m so glad my woman’s gone

Now time goes marching on
And it won’t wait for you
You’ve gotta take it when it’s offered
And get it when it’s due
Now a man can move much faster
Without a millstone around his neck
So if you get the chance to lose it
You’ve gotta drop it and run like heck, hey

She’s gone
I’m spending all of my money
She’s gone, gone, gone
And I can swing with my honey
She’s gone
I’m so glad my woman’s gone

She’s gone
I’m spending all of my money
She’s gone, gone, gone
And I can swing with my honey
She’s gone
I’m so glad my woman’s gone

Yayhoos – Monkey with a Gun

I wanted to kick off Saturday with a bang…you get no more bang than Monkey With A Gun. I love discovering songs like this. It’s catchy, full of energy, and sounds just as good today as it did when it was released. If you’re looking for polished pop, this probably isn’t your band. But if you enjoy guitar-driven rock played by musicians who clearly love what they’re doing, give The Yayhoos a listen. I have a feeling you’ll be happy before the song is over. It’s plainly a dirty little rock and roll song. Dirty as in sound…as in Monkey with a gun. It sounds like it escaped off of Exile on Main Street…and it escaped right to my playlist.

The Yayhoos were formed in the late 1990s as something of a roots-rock supergroup. The lineup featured Dan Baird, formerly of The Georgia Satellites, Warner E. Hodges from Jason & The Scorchers, bassist Keith Christopher (The Georgia Satellites), and drummer Terry Anderson (drummer and songwriter). The song’s vocals were by Eric “Roscoe” Ambel. Ambel wrote the song as well, and he’s the Del-Lords guitarist who also played with Steve Earle. All four had impressive musical backgrounds, and instead of tailoring songs for commercial success, they got together to play the kind of honest, guitar-driven rock they loved. The result was a band that blended rock, country, Southern influences, and plenty of attitude.

One thing I enjoy about digging into roots rock and Americana is finding bands that don’t sound like anyone else. That happened the first time I heard The Yayhoos. I wasn’t sitting there trying to figure out who they reminded me of because I really couldn’t. They simply sounded like a group of good musicians having a great time making rock and roll. Then I heard this…I was hooked on the song and title.

This one grabbed me right away. It’s one of those songs that doesn’t waste any time. The guitars come out swinging, the rhythm section keeps everything moving, and before long you’re tapping your foot without even realizing it. The chorus is catchy, the playing is first-rate, and the whole thing has an energy that reminds me why I still enjoy straightforward rock and roll. There are no gimmicks here. Just four experienced musicians doing what they do best. This song is about Hank Williams Jr.

What I also like is how natural the band sounds. Nobody is trying to steal the spotlight. Every member has enough experience to know when to step forward and when to support the song. That’s one advantage of putting together musicians who have already spent years on the road. They understand that great bands are built on chemistry… not ego.

The Yayhoos also did a cover of Dancing Queen (yes that one!) and I LOVE it.

Monkey With a Gun

Sorry…I could not find any. But hey…it’s a song called Monkey with a Gun…just hum along!

Beatles – It Won’t Be Long

I wrote this for Dave’s Turntable Talk. I’ve asked our writers to pick a song that wasn’t a “single” – thus was either an ordinary album cut or perhaps the “b-side” to a regular single – that they think was good enough and should have been a single. Today, we’ll act like it was one! Thanks, Dave, for publishing this yesterday!

I was 8 years old, and my cousin and I were spending time in an old shed that had been abandoned for years, and it was our clubhouse. It had a wood floor, and somehow, my cousin Greg got a slot machine and put it in there. We also found a couch somewhere, but most importantly, Greg brought his record player. I had never heard the Beatles, and he put the needle on Meet The Beatles. This song jumped out at me, and I fell completely. It not only made me a lifelong Beatles fan, but it also made me a lifelong MUSIC fan. Plus, it’s catchy and has a great guitar line. It should have been a single.

Whenever someone asks me what Beatles album track should have been a single, I don’t have to think very long. This song is my answer. Not because it’s the greatest song they ever did, but because it’s the one that made me a Beatles fan when I was eight years old. We all have that one song that opens the door to a favorite artist, and this was mine. Every time I hear that opening, I’m taken right back to being a kid discovering the Beatles for the very first time. For me, that’s something no chart position could ever top.

It was recorded in July 1963 at EMI Studios in London; the song was written primarily by John Lennon, with the usual Lennon-McCartney credit. The famous “Yeah…yeah!” call-and-response was inspired by the audience reaction the Beatles were already getting at their concerts. While it was never released as a single in Britain, many fans have long believed it easily could have been. It has all the ingredients: a great guitar hook, tight harmonies, and the excitement that defined Beatlemania.

Musically, the song is remarkable for its vocal arrangement. Lennon leads the way, but Paul McCartney and George Harrison weave harmonies around him that give the record an urgency few bands could match in 1963. Ringo Starr keeps everything driving forward without overplaying, while George Martin’s production captures the group just as they were becoming the biggest band in the world.

There are other songs like In My Life, Here Comes The Sun, While My Guitar Gently Weeps, and many more that are more worthy, but…they didn’t mean as much to me as this one did.

It Won’t Be Long

It won’t be long, yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah)
It won’t be long, yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah)
It won’t be long yeah (yeah), ’til I belong to you

Every night, when everybody has fun
Here am I sitting all on my own

It won’t be long, yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah)
It won’t be long, yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah)
It won’t be long yeah (yeah), ’til I belong to you

Since you left me, I’m so alone
Now you’re coming, you’re coming on home
I’ll be good like I know I should
You’re coming home, you’re coming home

Every night, the tears come down from my eyes
Every day, I’ve done nothing but cry

It won’t be long, yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah)
It won’t be long, yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah)
It won’t be long yeah (yeah), ’til I belong to you

Since you left me, I’m so alone
Now you’re coming, you’re coming on home
I’ll be good like I know I should
You’re coming home, you’re coming home
So every day we’ll be happy, I know
Now I know that you won’t leave me no more

It won’t be long, yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah)
It won’t be long (yeah), yeah (yeah), yeah (yeah)
It won’t be long yeah (yeah), ’til I belong to you

Tom Russell – Woodrow

Tom Russell has always been one of those artists who rewards repeat listens. The first time I heard this song, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. It seemed to wander a little, and I found myself wondering where it was going. Then it clicked. That’s the beauty of Russell’s writing. He doesn’t always give you a catchy chorus or an obvious hook. Instead, he invites you into a story and lets it unfold at its own pace. If you like songs that make you think, and maybe send you looking up a little history afterward, it is well worth your time.

Tom Russell has always had a gift for writing songs that blur the line between history and storytelling. Whether he’s singing about the American West, Mexico, or forgotten characters from the past, his songs often feel like short stories set to music. This one is no different. At first listen, it may leave you wondering where it’s headed, but stick with it. Like many of Russell’s best songs, it slowly unfolds into something memorable.

The song first appeared on Tom Russell’s 2005 concept album Hotwalker, the middle chapter of a trilogy that began with The Man From God Knows Where (1999) and concluded ten years later with The Rose of Roscrae (2015). The album tells a story that stretches across generations and the American frontier, mixing fictional characters with real historical figures.

With this song, Russell tips his hat to Woody Guthrie (Woodrow Wilson Guthrie), weaving history into the lives of ordinary people. It’s a style Russell has made his own over the years. Rather than simply retelling history, he puts listeners right in the middle of it. I will admit, when I saw the title, I thought it was about President Woodrow Wilson.

Musically, the song has the easy, conversational feel that suits Russell perfectly. He has never needed big production to hold your attention. His strength has always been his writing and the way he paints scenes with simple details. That’s one reason so many songwriters admire him. He trusts the story to carry the song, and more often than not, it does.

Woodrow

When people twist your words, Woodrow
Oh, they’ll twist at every whim
It’s thugs that run the unions now
And use your songs like hymns
Once your music danced on women’s thighs
In the arch of a hobo’s brow
Ah, Mrs. Guthrie, look what they’ve done
To your brown-eyed baby now
Ah, the trains leave every morning
Some go east and some go west
And the clacking of the iron
Is the sound you loved the best
It’s the great escape from railroad bulls
And the Coney Island girls
Ah, Mrs. Guthrie, look what we’ve done
To your brown-eyed boy with curls

Sing the truth, scream it loud
Ah, Mrs. Guthrie, look what they’ve done
To your brown-eyed baby now

Ah, those boxcars full of Chinese junk
The caboose has been junk piled
And we’re all buying groceries now
From men with crooked smiles
You were a drunken, wild misogynoir
And your politics were crude
As you sat home writing nursery rhymes
And drawing women nude
And all those politicians’ breath stink bad
Be they left or be they right
And the ones who play with rhetoric
Are not the ones who fight
Don’t go comin’ ’round here, Woodrow
They’ll stretch you from a rope, yeah
And your corpse won’t ever find a bar
Where a man can drink and smoke

Sing the truth, scream it loud
Ah, Mrs. Guthrie, look what they’ve done
To your brown-eyed baby now

Did you hear the screen door slam, Mom?
Woodrow’s gone again
He’s writing obscene letters now
And the feds might bring him in
But every song he ever wrote
Is hangin’ on the breeze
With the laundry in the Guthrie yard
Full of Huntington’s disease
So, Woodrow, rest in peace, old pal
There ain’t nothin’ for you here
We’re in the scrub oak country now
The land of dread and fear
And Whitey’s in the woodpile
And the writing’s on the wall
But your ring of truth still echoes down
The gray stone clinic halls

Sing the truth, scream it loud
Ah, Mrs. Guthrie, look what they’ve done
To your brown-eyed baby now

So here’s to all outsiders
All the ones who could not fit
The troubadour, the prisoners
The drunken Indian
Ah, the circus freaks, the wounded lovers
We’ll make it through somehow
Ah, Mrs. Guthrie, we are ridin’ blind
With your brown-eyed baby now

Sing the truth, scream it loud
Ah, Mrs. Guthrie, look what we’ve done
To your brown-eyed baby now
Scream the truth, scream it loud
Ah, Mrs. Guthrie, look what we’ve done
To your brown-eyed baby now