PowerPop... An Eclectic Collection of Pop Culture

Frankie Miller – I Can’t Change It

This is the kind of song and artist I like posting. I call it New Old music because not everyone has heard of Frankie Miller, unlike Neil Young and other artists. The song just sticks with me with its haunting and melancholy melody. The guy has a voice that is about as strong as you can get. There are certain voices that don’t just sing a song, they bleed it. Frankie Miller had one of those voices. You could park it next to Rod Stewart, Steve Marriott, and Joe Cocker, and no one would flinch.

I was watching Life On Mars when this song came on in an emotional scene. I’d never heard of it before. I never heard of Frankie Miller, but what a singer. He wrote this song when he was just 12 years old. Ray Charles also ended up recording it. Charles did his usual fantastic job on it, but I like Frankie’s stark arrangement. I can’t say enough about his voice. In some of his other songs, he reminds me of Bob Seger with an even a little stronger voice if that is possible. He wrote Ain’t Got No Money which Seger covered.

The best way I can describe this song is that it doesn’t need a big chorus or a clever twist. It just tells the truth. And in doing so, it becomes one of those tracks you return to when the world’s too loud and you need something real. Much like why I keep returning to Ronnie Lane and others. This one doesn’t have a wasted note. No overplaying. Just a slow, steady build that wraps around you.

This was on his 1973 debut album Once In A Blue Moon. In 1994, while he was forming a band with Joe Walsh, he had a brain aneurysm. He has fought back but sadly had to retire. If you don’t know much about him, he is worth looking up.

I can’t find a live version but check out this show.

I Can’t Change It

My friends can’t find some things I say
Must be the way I say those things
My friends can’t find some things I do
Must be the way I do those things
I can’t change it
But I’m trying to do right

I used to steal I used to fall
Was I wrong I can’t recall
I stole in love but all in all
Was I wrong I don’t recall
I can’t change it
But I’m trying to do right

Is it bad to look inside yourself and decide to go
To someone who can show the way complete
Are you glad to lose the doubts you thought would never go
When them inside hallucinations had you beat

My own true love has gone away
What can I say she left that day
The moon still shines a different way
What can I say
She left that day
I can’t change it but I’m waiting patiently

…

My Jeep Adventure

Occasionally, I’ll post something personal, but I haven’t in a long time, so I thought I would today.

In 2011, I purchased a 2000 Jeep Wrangler for around $8000. Love the Jeep, but I would never want to make a cross-country trip in one, or you would feel like a human milkshake. In 2017, it was missing quite bad and the brake lines rusted. We really didn’t need a second car then, so it sat for a year or so. I bought some brake lines and installed them. After that, I got in the car and bled the brakes, and then a brake caliper busted as soon as I pushed down on the brake pedal.

It sat longer after that, for 7-8 years, which is probably the worst thing you could do to a car or a house, for that matter. We have, and that would be me and my mechanic/bass player friend Greg (more Greg than Max), installed new spark plugs, wires, fuel injectors, exhaust manifold, and brake sensor, and I ordered some tires but forgot to get raised white letter tires, but I’ll get them when the new ones wear out. I’m replacing these because they are slightly dry-rotted, and I’m not taking chances. I drove it to work but made a 45-minute trip into an hour and twenty minutes because of going only on back roads.

The cleaning process was long and tedious. Here is a partial picture of what it looked like before, and the arm of my friend Greg. Mold, grime, dirt, mud, tree sap, and things that were never identified.

Well, an update…we did everything but one thing…Check the lug nuts. On the second day of driving it…I thought I heard a blowout because of the tires… no, it was the wheel flying off. The lug nuts had worked themselves loose…I checked the others to be sure, and they were tight. No damage at all, so now with new tires it rides good…well as good as a Jeep will ride. The only thing I can think of is I took the wheel off 8 years ago and only tightened the lug nuts a little snug since I was going to change brakes or something else….lesson learned!

Here is the picture I took when I got out of the car and noticed the wheel came off…this is not a posed shot…the wheel ended up exactly like this. It’s back running probably better than the day it was bought in 2011.

Getting Tires

At work yesterday, before the tire change.

Max’s lesson of the day…always check the lug nuts.

…

Jeff Healey – Angel Eyes

I wrote this a while back, but Deke sent me another song that was incredible on guitar. So I canceled this one for that weekend and came back to this today. This was my introduction to Jeff Healey, as it was to many people.

When I think of this song, I think of a dark, smoky bar because we were playing as a house band, and this was on the jukebox. We would listen to it between sets. The way Canadian Jeff Healy played guitar was very interesting. Healy was of course, blind, and he was given a guitar, and no one taught him how to play it. Jeff Healey was a Canadian who started to play guitar when he was 3. He could bend the notes to a limit that normal guitar players normally don’t. His solos were just as interesting as the songs themselves.

In 1989, Jeff Healey came out with this song that peaked at #5 in the Billboard 100, #86 in the UK, and #16 in Canada. The song was written by John Hiatt and Fred Koller. It helped bring Healey into the mainstream and broadened his audience.

He formed The Jeff Healey Band in 1985 with Joe Rockman and Tom Stephen. The band gained recognition in Toronto’s blues scene before being discovered by Stevie Ray Vaughan and Albert Collins. They were signed to Arista Records, and they released their 1988 debut album, See the Light. This song came from that album. He would release 5 albums with The Jeff Healey Band and also played with the Jazz Wizards.

Healey was adopted and raised in Toronto, where he developed a passion for music. He was blind from early childhood due to retinoblastoma and had a great career until his passing in 2008.

Angel Eyes

Girl, you’re looking fine tonight
And every guy has got you in his sight
What you’re doing with a clown like me
Is surely one of life’s little mysteries

So tonight I’ll ask the stars above
“How did I ever win your love?”
What did I do?
What did I say
To turn your angel eyes my way?

Well, I’m the guy who never learned to dance
Never even got one second glance
Across a crowded room was close enough
I could look but I could never touch

So tonight I’ll ask, the stars above
“How did I ever win your love?”
What did I do?
What did I say
To turn your angel eyes my way?

Don’t anyone wake me
If it’s just a dream
‘Cause she’s the best thing
Ever happened to me

All you fellows
You can look all you like
But this girl you see
She’s leavin’ here with me tonight

There’s just one more thing that I need to know
If this is love why does it scare me so?
It must be somethin’ only you can see
‘Cause girl I feel it when you look at me

So tonight I’ll ask the stars above
“How did I ever win your love?”
What did I do?
What did I say,
To turn your angel eyes my way?
Hey, hey, hey, yeah, awww

Buster Keaton: A Hard Act To Follow

Buster Keaton is one of my all-time favorite comedians, actors, and directors. He is also one of the best film makers I’ve seen.

There are documentaries, and then there are love letters dressed up as documentaries. Buster Keaton: A Hard Act to Follow (1987) is very much the latter. Narrated and co-written by Keaton devotee David McGillivray and directed by Kevin Brownlow and David Gill (the same pair who did wonders with their Chaplin and Hollywood series), this BBC-produced trilogy doesn’t just trace the arc of a comedy legend it makes a strong case for Keaton being one of the most inventive minds in any medium, silent or not.

It is one of the best documentaries I have ever seen, not just about Buster but anyone. This documentary is interesting for fans and non-fans alike. I have watched it multiple times and showed it to friends to didn’t have much interest in silent movies and they ended up liking it.

Brownlow also worked on “Hollywood” (a 13-part history of the silent era that I reviewed), The Unknown Chaplin, and Harold Lloyd: The Third Genius. This is in my top 5 of documentaries to recommend to people. I just wish it were easier to get when I wanted to see it. I had to order it from Europe to get a DVD copy of this. You can watch all of them now on YouTube, though...below!

Buster Keaton was not only a great comedian but also a great filmmaker. Some of his special effects in Sherlock Jr and other movies stand up today and that was made in 1924. I always thought that while Chaplin had the best comedy character…Keaton was the better filmmaker.

What sets A Hard Act to Follow apart is its rhythm. It’s tightly edited, gently scored, and clearly built by people who don’t just admire Buster Keaton, they get him. And more than that, they want you to get him, too. For my money, this is the best documentary ever made about a silent-era performer. It respects the intelligence of its subject and the curiosity of its audience. If you already love Keaton, this is the companion piece you didn’t know you needed. If you’re new to him, this might be your gateway to him.

Part One (From Vaudeville to Movies):

Covers his vaudeville childhood with his parents. Because of child labor laws, his parents would claim that Buster was an adult actor. They would dress Buster to look old. This part goes through Vaudeville and up until Buster meets Roscoe Arbuckle and starts his career in movies.

Part Two (Star Without a Studio):

Part Two sums up his great silent movies. He did not work in the studio system…Buster had free rein with his movies in most of the 1920s, working for Independent film executive Joe Schenck. Part two shows some of the best scenes from his silent movies until he had to join a studio (MGM) that along with his drinking, helped ruin his career.

Part Three (Genius Recognized):

This part is the downfall and the comeback. Buster worked through the early thirties in some successful talkies, but by the end of the 30s, he was working as a gag writer. He was soon largely forgotten until he appeared in “Sunset Boulevard”, commercials, and TV. Buster was in a movie with Chaplin called Limelight in 1952. He began to be praised by historians, critics, and fans alike before he passed away in 1966.

There is a new Buster documentary out called ‘The Great Buster: A Celebration’ by Peter Bogdanovich that I have yet to see. I plan to watch it soon. Either way, this one will be hard to beat.

Below is Buster Keaton: A Hard Act to Follow…the complete series.

Max’s Drive-In Movie – MAS*H

I pulled out this 1970 movie the other day and ended up enjoying it even more than I did years ago. When I first saw it back in the ’80s, I’d been expecting something different because of the television show. At first, I was confused, but the longer I watched, the more it thrilled me. If you only know MASH from television reruns with Alan Alda smirking through battlefield banter, the 1970 film that started it all might feel like a grenade lobbed into your expectations.

Robert Altman’s MASH isn’t a gentle sitcom. It’s raw, irreverent, chaotic, and somehow all the better for it. This is the war movie for people who hate war movies. It doesn’t glorify anything. It just throws you into the blood, the absurdity, and the humor of a Mobile Army Surgical Hospital during the Korean War, but let’s be real, this is Vietnam by another name. They just couldn’t say it at the time.

What strikes you about the movie is that it looks real. You don’t see a nice clean Army camp; you see authentic rubble, which captures the hopelessness of it all. Altman shot this film like a jazz improvised session. Overlapping dialogue, handheld cameras, and actors wandering through the frame like no one gave them a blocking direction. It feels messy because it is messy. War is messy. And MASH knows that the only way to survive it might be to laugh, so you forget where you are.

The plot? Loosely structured at best. You follow a pair of too-smart-for-their-own-good surgeons, “Hawkeye” Pierce and “Trapper” John McIntyre, as they drink, prank, operate, and generally wreak havoc behind the front lines. And when I say wreak havoc, I mean mocking authority, goading a desk jockey into a breakdown, and broadcasting a fake-suicide funeral for a lovesick dentist.

The cast, Donald Sutherland (Hawkeye), Elliott Gould (Trapper John), Tom Skerritt (Duke), and Sally Kellerman (Hot Lips Houlihan), weren’t exactly marquee names in 1970. Allegedly, Sutherland and Gould, suspicious of Altman’s loose approach, actually tried to get him fired during production. They failed. Years later, they admitted Altman was right all along.

Altman’s rebellious methods created friction with the studio, too. He refused to follow the traditional film shooting formula. He shot scenes with actors talking over one another, dismissed explanations, and downplayed narrative story arcs. Altman called it “anti-movie making,” and it became his signature style.

And that theme song? “Suicide Is Painless.” Written by Altman’s 14-year-old son, no less. A haunting lullaby for the down-and-out, it creeps under your skin and stays there long after the credits roll. The movie was based on a novel written by former military surgeon Richard Hooker.

Hotlips O’Houlihan: [referring to Hawkeye] I wonder how a degenerated person like that could have reached a position of responsibility in the Army Medical Corps!
Father Mulcahy: He was drafted.

…

Creation – Making Time

Thank you, Dave, for this Turntable Talk. I wrote this for his series about songs with Time in the title, in the song, or about time. I like trying out new songs on the weekend, and this is a great example of mid-sixties British Rock. If you dig the Who and Kinks…you should like this one.

Here’s a 1966 track that hits you like a kaleidoscopic brick through a plate-glass window. This is a band that I so wish would have done more things. Their lead guitarist, Eddie Phillips, was asked by Pete Townshend to join the Who as their second guitarist. They are one of those bands that slipped through the cracks.

They were formed in 1966 from a band called The Mark Four. The Creation was from Chesthunt, 12 miles north of central London. They formed in 1963 as the Mark Four and went through different names until 1966 when they became the Creation. The Creation was sharper, weirder, and wilder than most of their peers. They had the raw power chords and the feedback fury of early Hendrix, and the pop art mindset of a band who not only wanted to be heard, they needed to be seen as well. The lead singer, Kenny Pickett, would spray paint a canvas, and someone from the road crew would set it a fire during the set…during the song Painter Man.

This song was released in 1966. They patterned themselves after The Who and The Kinks. It had the sonic sound of The Who, the garage grit of The Kinks, and the art-school sound with later groups like The Jam to Blur. But what really made it jump off the grooves? That guitar solo really helped out. Long before Jimmy Page, Eddie Phillips, the guitar player, used a bow. Making Time was the first rock song to feature the guitar being played with a bow. Shel Talmy produced the group that also produced The Who and The Kinks.

The band broke up in 1967-1968 with some different members. The guitar player Eddie Phillips and singer Kenny Pickett started to write songs in the seventies after leaving the business for a while. They wrote Teacher, Teacher for Rockpile. They regrouped in the 1980s and are still out there touring.

I’ve been talking about the Who and Kinks…a member from each band played with The Creation along with a Rolling Stone. Mick Avory, the drummer for the Kinks played with the reformed band from the mid-1980s to 1993. Doug Sandom, who was replaced by Keith Moon in the Who, played with them off and on until he died in 2019. Ronnie Wood played with them in 1968 (right before they broke up) as a vocalist and guitar player.

They only released 3 studio albums. One in 1966 called We Are Paintermen. One in 1987 called Psychedelic Rose and another one in 1996 called Power Surge. This song peaked at #49 on the UK Charts in 1966.

Making Time

Making time
Shooting lines
For people to believe in
Things you say
Gone in a day
Everybody leavin’
Everybody leavin’

Why do we have to carry on?
Always singing the same old song
Same old song
The same old song

Tellin’ lies
Closing your eyes
Making more excuses
Pullin’ the wool
Actin’ the fool
People have their uses
People have their uses

Why do we have to carry on?
Always singing the same old song
Same old song
The same old song

Lookin’ for
An open door
Never taking chances
Take your pick
Makes you sick
Seekin’ new advances
Seekin’ new advances

Why do we have to carry on?
Always singing the same old song
Same old song
The same old song

Ben Vaughn – Shingaling with Me

This song has been in my head for a week now and won’t get out and thats a good thing. The feel of this sounds like it crawled out of the back seat of a 1963 Rambler. It really fits in with The Swingin’ Medallions, Doug Sahm’s 60s style of music, with a tiny bit of a tame Lou Reed thrown in. You can also hear a little of Springsteen in his music at times.

I’m far from an expert on Ben Vaughn, but he shouldn’t be so unknown. Big Star is more well-known than this man. His music is instantly catchy and likable. The song I covered a few years ago, “Too Sensitve for This World,” has hit written all over it. I’m surprised no one has covered that one. Well, I double checked and someone has! Deer Tick…now that is a name that…no I won’t say it.

Vaughn is from New Jersey. He got his start in the late ’70s, playing in punk and new wave bands before forming The Ben Vaughn Combo in 1983. The Combo was everything great about mid-’60s rock and roll, reimagined with a little punk energy. The band was together for five years, releasing two albums and touring the U.S. several times. They received rave reviews in Rolling Stone and People magazine and video airplay on MTV.

This track comes from Mood Swings, the 1992 album that put Vaughn on the map as a Jersey jangle-pop garage guy with a deep record collection. It’s a compilation album that contains his best songs from 1985 to 1990. This song was originally on his 1987 album Beautiful Thing.

Vaughn started a solo career in 1988 and has released over 17 albums. He is very versatile… he plays Rock, blues, jazz, folk, soul, R & B, country, Power Pop, Bossa Nova, movie soundtracks, easy listening, and more, all with Vaughn’s musical slant.

His older albums are not on Spotify, but here is a YouTube playlist that covers a lot of this album. It really doesn’t matter because his songs are just plain out good.

I blogged about Vaughn a while back with this great song.

…

Joe Ely – Boxcars

I keep going back to the Texas songwriters whenever possible. Joe Ely was the first, other than Townes Van Zandt, who placed me on that road. I think all of them were born with an acoustic guitar, wit, pen, with paper in hand. So many of them write wonderful melodies and lyrics that any songwriter would drool over. Boxcars captures everything great about Texas songwriting in one cold, mournful ride.

Ely was born in Amarillo in 1947 and raised in Lubbock, Buddy Holly’s hometown and a surprisingly fertile ground for musicians. Ely came of age surrounded by dust storms, flat horizons, and rock ‘n’ roll. By the late ‘60s, he was friends with a couple of brilliant kids named Butch Hancock and Jimmie Dale Gilmore. Together, they formed The Flatlanders, a band that barely made a dent at the time but later became a blueprint for alt-country and Americana.

This song was written by Butch Hancock, a close friend and collaborator of Joe Ely. This was on his second solo album called Honky Tonk Masquerade released in 1978. The album is in the book 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die and was 40 on Rolling Stone’s 50 Essential Albums of the ’70s list. Ely’s first album was released in 1977. He met The Clash the following year in London and both liked each other. They both toured together a bit after that. Ely sang backups on the Clash hit Should I Stay or Should I Go.

He was also involved with a personal favorite pickup band with John Mellencamp called The Buzzin Cousins. He is revered in the music business and by fans alike. He also played in the Los Super Seven. Thanks, halffastcyclingclub, for pointing them out to me a while back. I still need to write one up.

His voice in this one is golden. It’s in Ely’s delivery, equal parts resigned and reverent, like he’s singing about someone he knew once, or maybe used to be.

Boxcars

Well, I gave all my money to the banker this monthNow, I got no more money to spendShe smiled when she saw me comin’ through that doorWhen I left she said, “Come back again”

I watched them lonesome boxcar wheelsTurnin’ down the tracks out of townAnd it’s on that lonesome railroad trackI’m gonna lay my burden down

I was raised on a farm the first years of my lifeLife was pretty good they sayI’ll probably live to be some ripe ol’ ageIf death’ll just stay out of my way

This world can take my money and timeBut it sure can’t take my soulAnd I’m goin’ down to the railroad tracksWatch them lonesome boxcars roll

There’s some big ol’ Buicks by the Baptist churchCadillacs at the Church of ChristI parked my camel by an ol’ haystackI’ll be lookin’ for that needle all night

There ain’t gonna be no radial tiresTurnin’ down the streets of goldI’m goin’ down to the railroad tracksAnd watch them lonesome boxcars roll

Now, if you ever heard the whistle on a fast freight trainBeatin’ out a beautiful tuneIf you ever seen the cold blue railroad tracksShinin’ by the light of the moon

If you ever felt the locomotive shake the groundI know you don’t have to be toldWhy I’m goin’ down to the railroad tracksAnd watch them lonesome boxcars roll

Yeah, I’m goin’ down to the railroad tracksAnd watch them lonesome boxcars roll

…

Max’s Drive-In Movie – Pat Garrett and Billy The Kid

I saw this movie for the first time in the early nineties in my apartment, which I shared with a cousin. I watched it initially for Bob Dylan, but ended up loving the movie. This movie, above all else, treats silence better than any other movie I’ve seen. The characters get to breathe. No one is in a hurry, but when action happens, it makes it all the more dramatic.

In Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, director Sam Peckinpah trades the mythic grandeur of the Old West for something slower, lonelier, and far more tragic. This is a Western all about finality, a farewell to freedom, friendship, and the open frontier. Pechinpah created a great movie out of this.

Set in 1881 New Mexico, the film dramatizes the final days of William Bonney, better known as Billy the Kid (played by Kris Kristofferson) as he’s hunted down by his former friend turned lawman, Pat Garrett (James Coburn). There’s no rush to the inevitable confrontation. Instead, the film moves slowly with purpose, soaking in the dusty landscapes, long silences, and uneasy glances between men who understand their roles in their vanishing world.

Coburn delivers a wonderful performance as Garrett, a man who’s made peace with compromise but not with himself. Kristofferson, younger and looser, plays Billy with charm and recklessness. Their scenes together are understated but filled with unspoken history and mutual resignation. It stands as one of the most introspective and mournful Westerns ever made. It’s not a shoot-’em-up spectacle; it’s a meditation on regret, inevitability, and the bitter cost of survival.

The studio clashed with Peckinpah and released a terrible version in 1973 that was a pale version of Peckinpah’s vision. It was jagged, choppy, and stripped of its emotional weight. Critics panned it. Audiences stayed away. Like many films ahead of their time, Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid didn’t stay buried. A bootlegged “preview print” started circulating in the 80s—rougher but far more coherent. It showed what Peckinpah had been aiming for: a slower, sadder, more deliberate tone piece about friendship, death, and the slow extinction of the outlaw soul. Critics and fans alike loved his original version.

In 2005, a “Special Edition” came out, restoring much of what had been lost (though not fully satisfying the purists). Still, it was enough to elevate the film from cult obscurity to a rightful classic. And make no mistake…it IS a classic!

I never thought about cinematography until recently, but John Coquillon did a hell of a job on this movie. It looks beautiful, and the landscapes jump out at you as you watch.

Now let’s talk about the soundtrack by Bob Dylan. Bob Dylan was in the movie and did a good job, but it’s the soundtrack that will be remembered. This isn’t your typical Dylan record. It’s mostly instrumental, often minimalist, and was stitched together for the film. But what you get here is an eerie, atmospheric tone throughout the entire album. Let’s get this out of the way: Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door is the anchor, the standout, the one track that broke free and carved a permanent space in classic rock airwaves. It’s a song so simple it feels like it always existed. Unfortunately, it overshadows the other songs, which I like a lot. Billy 1, Turkey Chase, Bunkhouse Theme, and the rest. It’s an album I like to put on and just soak it in and relax.

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Ace Frehley – New York Groove

Only in the glittery excess of the late ’70s could a band decide to put out four solo albums on the same day and somehow convince the world it made perfect sense. On September 18, 1978, KISS pulled off one of rock’s most over-the-top stunts: four albums, one from each member, all branded as official KISS releases, all with matching cover art and posters you could piece together. This song had to be at least somewhat inspired by Bo Diddley’s Bo Diddley which was in turn inspired by Hush Little Baby.

I’ve always liked this song from Ace Frehley’s KISS solo album. It peaked at #13 on the Billboard 100, #25 in Canada, and #24 in New Zealand in 1978. The song was written by Russ Ballard and was a UK chart hit for an English band named Hello. The track kicks in with that foot-stomp and hand-clap rhythm, more glam rock than hard rock, and right away it’s clear: this is not a KISS song. It’s got more in common with T. Rex than with Detroit Rock City.

Everything here is built around that simple, addictive beat, a four-on-the-floor thump with congas and claps riding shotgun. Over the top floats Frehley’s talk-sung vocal that is delivered with confidence. Ace was perfect for this song because he doesn’t have a huge vocal range. On Ace’s songs, he doesn’t sound like he is trying to make a hit…just a good song. I also like his guitar playing in general. It’s very Keith Richards like along with his tone.

New York Groove is Ace Frehley’s very own personal anthem. The track is as synonymous with the ex-Kiss member as his silver suit and his smokin’ Les Paul. The egos in KISS were huge; Gene and Paul provoked Ace, even offering help (assuming that Ace would not be able to). However, Ace surprised them both. The best-selling solo album of the 4, in addition to being preferred by most fans and critics.

Ace Frehley: “A lot of people think I wrote New York Groove. It’s not a myth that I’ve perpetuated, but that’s the way it is. I wish I would’ve wrote the song, though. I would’ve made a lot more cash out of it, ha-ha-hargh!”

Original Version by Hello

New York Groove

Many years since I was here,
On the street I was passin’ my time away
To the left and to the right,
Buildings towering to the sky
It’s outta sight in the dead of night

Here I am, and in this city, with a fistful of dollars
And baby, you’d better believe

I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
Back in the New York groove, in the New York groove

In the back of my Cadillac
A wicked lady, sittin’ by my side, sayin’ ‘Where are we?’
Stop at Third and Forty-three, exit to the night
It’s gonna be ecstacy, this place was meant for me

Feels so good tonight, who cares about tomorrow
So baby, you’d better believe

I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
Back in the New York groove, in the New York groove

I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove
I’m back, back in the New York groove

Love – Forever Changes ….album review

Pam from All Things Thriller recommended this band and the album Forever Changes. I’ve been following her blog for years, and I trust when she recommends someone, and she came through. I was not disappointed with this album. This album has been listed in the top 100 best albums ever by different publications. It doesn’t have a bad song on it. The album is not known for hit singles but for the collective whole of the songs on that album. I was going to pick one song, but again, this album needs to be listened to as a whole.

One single did get pulled off of this album called Alone Again Or and it did hit the UK and Billboard Charts, and it sounded familiar. The reason it did was because The Damned covered back in 1987.

This is a band that I heard of but never really heard as much. With founder Arthur Lee, Love fused garage rock, folk, psychedelia, and baroque pop. They were not commercial juggernauts, but they sure did sound great. This album’s core is acoustic, and they build on it from there. I could not stop listening to it all this week. They were also one of the first racially diverse American rock bands.

Released in late 1967, just as the Summer of Love was peaking and already beginning to fall, it’s a record that doesn’t sound like its time, and doesn’t really belong to any other, either. This was the band’s 3rd album. Arthur Lee was just 22 when he put this band together. He already had two solid albums under his belt, full of garage rock, Byrds-like jangle, and attitude, but Forever Changes was something else entirely. It’s as if Lee had seen the whole California dream flicker and die and was moving on.

I’ve listened to this album around five times overall, and it keeps getting better. I love how they mixed the acoustic with jaw-dropping percussion and touches of electric guitar. I’m not going to go down the list of songs; the best way is to listen to it.

The original lineup featured Lee, guitarist Johnny Echols, bassist Ken Forssi, drummer Don Conka (later replaced by Alban “Snoopy” Pfisterer), and singer/guitarist Bryan MacLean.

Alone Again Or

Yeah, said it’s all rightI won’t forgetAll the times I’ve waited patiently for youAnd you’ll do just what you choose to doAnd I will be alone again tonight my dear

Yeah, I heard a funny thingSomebody said to meYou know that I could be in love with almost everyoneI think that people areThe greatest funAnd I will be alone again tonight my dear

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Jam – That’s Entertainment

I learned about these guys from a friend’s brother, who introduced me to Big Star, The Clash, and The Dead. They had export albums that no one else I knew had at the time. There was no Spotify…you had to work for it. You had to hunt songs and albums down. It made it that much better when you heard them.

I wrote this for another Jam song a while back and it holds true: Sometimes people say…oh this or that band was just too British. I never found a fault in that and wanted more British bands. But…if ever a band could be considered “too British” this may very well be the band. But I want more…

This is one of those rare songs that doesn’t just describe life, it feels like life. Weller wrote it in a single night after stumbling home drunk (“Coming home pissed from the pub”), acoustic guitar in hand. And you can tell, the lyrics have that bleary, late-night poetry, where ordinary objects take on greater significance. A “policeman’s baton,” “a smash of glass,” “a freezing cold flat” these aren’t metaphors, they’re scene-setting. There are strong Ray Davies vibes going on in this, with working-class life.

He’s not glorifying his world; he’s documenting it. And in doing so, he’s creating a kind of working-class poem, a collage of British life with all the glamor scratched off. This is why I love the Kinks, the Who, and other bands that deal with everyday life. I would include Squeeze in there as well.

They formed in 1973 and released their first album in 1977. Their members included guitarist Paul Weller, bassist Bruce Foxton, and drummer Rick Butler. Paul Weller is the best known out of the band, but they were all great musicians. Being a bass player…I’ve noticed a lot of Foxton’s bass playing is terrific.

The song was released in 1981 and peaked at #21 on the UK Charts and #34 in New Zealand. The song was on the album Sound Affects, which peaked at #2 on the UK Charts, #72 on the Billboard 200, #39 in Canada, and #2 in New Zealand.

Paul Weller: “It was just everything that was around me y’know. My little flat in Pimlico did have damp on the walls and it was f–king freezing. I was doing a fanzine called December Child and Paul Drew wrote a poem called ‘That’s Entertainment.’ It wasn’t close to my song, but it kind of inspired me to write this anyway. I wrote to him saying, Look is it all right if I nick a bit of your idea, man? And he said, It’s fine, yeah.”

Thats Entertainment

A police car and a screaming sirenA pneumatic drill and ripped up concreteA baby wailing and stray dog howlingThe screech of brakes and lamp light blinking

That’s entertainmentThat’s entertainment

A smash of glass and a rumble of bootsAn electric train and a ripped up phone boothPaint splattered walls and the cry of a tomcatLights going out and a kick in the balls

I say, that’s entertainmentThat’s entertainment

Days of speed and slow time MondaysPissing down with rain on a boring WednesdayWatching the news and not eating your teaA freezing cold flat and damp on the walls

I say that’s entertainmentThat’s entertainment

Waking up at 6 a.m. on a cool warm morningOpening the windows and breathing in petrolAn amateur band rehearsing in a nearby yardWatching the telly and thinking about your holidays

That’s entertainmentThat’s entertainment

Waking up from bad dreams and smoking cigarettesCuddling a warm girl and smelling stale perfumeA hot summer’s day and sticky black tarmacFeeding ducks in the park and wishing you were far away

That’s entertainmentThat’s entertainment

Two lovers kissing amongst the scream of midnightTwo lovers missing the tranquility of solitudeGetting a cab and travelling on busesReading the graffiti about slashed seat affairs

I say that’s entertainmentThat’s entertainment

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Masters of Reality – She Got Me (When She Got Her Dress On)

Chris Goss was a musician who produced Queens of the Stone Age and Kyuss. He is from New York, and loved Cream, The Beatles, and Black Sabbath, not a bad trio if you’re planning to warp some minds. He started in Syracuse in the early 1980s. Goss, who had been around the local music scene, wasn’t trying to follow trends; he was trying to mash his obsessions together into something new. Sabbath’s doomy riffs, filtered through a kind of psychedelic Beatlesque sound, with a sprinkle of blues on top.

This song was on their 1992 album Sunrise on the Sufferbus, which had a drummer who was quite well known for greatness. Ginger Baker played drums on this album, and the results were terrific. Every band worth its salt needs a track they can ride a groove just for the hell of it, and this one is that song.

It’s so cool to hear Ginger basically fronting the band with his drums. It’s a drum show for professionals and amateurs alike. You get the sense he could’ve played this with a cigarette in one hand and still kept time better than most drummers could with both arms taped to a click track.

You can tell this probably was improvised, and they just took off. There’s a looseness to the playing, like the band knows they’ve hit on something cool and are just letting it roll. The album is really good; it’s not just hard rock, it’s hard rock with humor as well.

Another good song off the album is John Brown which I’m posting below. That song was off their self-titled debut album in 1988. It was a toss up between which one to feature so I added both.

This song peaked at #8 on the Billboard Mainstream Rock Charts in 1992..

Another Song with Ginger….John Brown

She Got Me (When She Got Her Dress On)

She got me when she got her dress onShe got me when she got her dress onShe got me me when she looked fineWhen she got her dress onShe got me when she got downWhen she got her dress on

She got me when she got her dress onGot it on

She got me when she got her dress onShe got me when she got her dress onShe got me when she looked fineAnd now she gets it all the timeShe got me when she got her dress on

She got me when she got her dress onGot it on

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Van Morrison – Brown Eyed Girl

Somehow, I didn’t hear this song until I was 18 in 1985. When I heard it, I immediately loved it. I didn’t just like the song, I was infatuated with it. One of the most infectious bass lines I’ve ever heard. I would play it so much that my friends would ask…again? So this post is basically a love letter to this song.

The bass wasn’t the only thing that hit me, it is as clear as a spring day guitar riff. Last but certainly not least, it began my lifelong love for Van Morrison’s writing and voice. How did I make it until 18 without hearing it? I’ll never know. I not only learned the bass, but I also learned the guitar and some of the drums. I described it to someone as Buddy Holly in Technicolor.

I was at the right age for it. It’s a scrapbook of teenage moments, skipping school, hanging out by the green grass, and making out behind the stadium. There’s even a sneaky little bit of controversy: the original line “making love in the green grass” got scrubbed from the single version and replaced with a tamer repeat of an earlier verse (“Laughing‚ and a-running”).

It’s a song that I never get tired of hearing. The entire sound is crystal clear, and it made me feel nostalgic at just 18. It’s not Van Morrison’s best song…that would be impossible to pick, but it is a great pop song packed with memories and fun.

This was Van’s first single after leaving Them. Brown Eyed Girl isn’t trying to change the world. It’s not aiming for psychedelia (very popular at the time) or pushing the studio envelope. What it does do is pack memory, melody, and a whole lot of youthful yearning into a tight little pop song.

Van would go on to far deeper waters with albums like Astral Weeks, Moondance, Tupelo Honey, and Saint Dominic’s Preview, albums brimming with spiritual searching and jazz improvisation. But Brown Eyed Girl was a huge introduction to the new solo artist… Van Morrison. I’ve told people…if I could have been born with any voice, Van’s voice would have been it.

He released this song in 1967, it peaked at #10 on the Billboard 100, #13 in Canada, and #60 in the UK. My friends say that I might have listened to this song more than anyone…including Van. Hmmm, where is that email address to the Guinness people?

Brown Eyed Girl

Hey where did we go
Days when the rains came
Down in the hollow
Playin’ a new game
Laughing and a running hey, hey
Skipping and a jumping
In the misty morning fog with
Our hearts a thumpin’ and you
My brown eyed girl
You’re my brown eyed girl

Whatever happened
To Tuesday and so slow
Going down the old mine
With a transistor radio
Standing in the sunlight laughing
Hiding behind a rainbow’s wall
Slipping and sliding
All along the water fall, with you
My brown eyed girl
You’re my brown eyed girl

Do you remember when we used to sing
Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da
Just like that
Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da, la te da

So hard to find my way
Now that I’m all on my own
I saw you just the other day
My how you have grown
Cast my memory back there, Lord
Sometime I’m overcome thinking ’bout
Making love in the green grass
Behind the stadium with you
My brown eyed girl
You’re my brown eyed girl

Do you remember when we used to sing
Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da (lying in the green grass)
Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da (bit, bit, bit, bit, bit, bit)
Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da (sha la la la la la)
Sha la la la la la la la la la la te da

? & the Mysterians – 96 Tears

I absolutely love the organ riff that starts out this song. It was performed on a Vox Continental.

Well, it’s an original name I will say that much for the group…or the lead singer anyway. This song was written by “Question Mark,” the band’s frontman who wanted to be anonymous (he’s listed on the composer credits as (Rudy Martinez). At one point, he referred to the individual band members only by three-letter names (at one point, the band was known as XYZ). The mystery helped market the group, who wore dark glasses to add to the intrigue. He publicly stated that his soul had originated from Mars and that he once walked on Earth with the dinosaurs.

There’s a reason 96 Tears is often tagged as one of the first true garage rock hits, and even a proto-punk to what The Stooges and Ramones would soon torch the world with. It’s raw, it’s relentless, and it’s got attitude for days. It was recorded in Bay City, Michigan, by a band of mostly teenage Mexican-American kids, and it has that magical garage sound. No overthinking. Just a stomp and a sneer.

The song was originally released on the tiny Pa-Go-Go label before being picked up by Cameo Records. Against all odds, it climbed all the way to #1 on the Billboard Hot 100. Think about that: in a year dominated by the Beatles, stones, Motown, and the Beach Boys, this little three-chord song with an organ and a singer named Question Mark took the top spot.

The song peaked at #1 in the Billboard 100, #1 in Canada, and #37 in the UK in 1966. They were an American garage rock band of Mexican origins from Bay City and Saginaw in Michigan who were initially active between 1962 and 1969.

It was later covered by Garlan Jefferies.

96 Tears

Too many teardrops
For one heart to be crying
Too many teardrops
For one heart to carry on

You`re way on top now since you left me
You’re always laughing way down at me
But watch out now, I`m gonna get there
We`ll be together for just a little while
And then I`m gonna put you way down here
And you`ll start crying ninety-six tears
Cry, cry

And when the sun comes up, I`ll be on top
You`ll be way down there, looking up
And I might wave, come up here
But I don`t see you waving now
I`m way down here, wondering how
I`m gonna get you but I know now
I`ll just cry, cry, I`ll just cry

Too many teardrops
For one heart to be crying
Too many teardrops
For one heart to carry on

You’re gonna cry ninety-six tears
You’re gonna cry ninety-six tears
You’re gonna cry, cry, cry, cry now
You’re gonna cry, cry, cry, cry
Ninety-six tears

Come on and lemme hear you cry, now
Ninety-six tears, woo
I wanna hear you cry
Night and day, yeah, all night long

Uh, ninety-six tears, cry cry cry
Come on, baby
Let me hear you cry now, all night long
Uh, ninety-six tears, yeah, come on now
Uh, ninety-six tears