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John Fogerty – My Toot Toot
It was such a wonderful feeling when Centerfield was released in 1985. Fogerty produced the album himself and played most of the instruments, building the record track by track in his studio. The sound was familiar without trying to copy the past. Songs like The Old Man Down the Road, Rock and Roll Girls, and the title track Centerfield put him back on the radio and back in front of a large audience. The album went to No. 1 in the U.S., something Fogerty had not done since the Creedence era. I was SO happy to hear that riff to Old Man Down The Road. Only one man could have written that riff.
It had that same Fogerty voice and rhythm guitar sound, but it also felt like a fresh start. The baseball theme helped, too. Even people who didn’t follow rock closely knew the chorus of “Put me in, coach.” The record proved that Fogerty still had what he had with CCR. In 1985, he showed he could step back up to the plate and still hit one out of the park so to speak. I was so happy to hear THAT sound again in the middle of the 1980s.
His next album, Eye of the Zombie, I didn’t appreciate as much because he had one foot in the 80s and the other in his old music. I see why he did it, though, because great artists take chances, and some liked it. His next albums would go back to the swampy music he was known for. I did like the title track Eye of the Zombie somewhat.
Sometimes the interesting songs in an artist’s catalog are the ones that slip in as B-sides. That’s the case with this one. Fogerty recorded the song in 1985 during a trip to Louisiana, and it was later released in 1986 as the B-side of the single Change in the Weather. It didn’t appear on one of his studio albums at the time, so unless you were buying singles in the mid-80s, it was easy to miss. Funny thing, I first heard of this song in the Stephen King book, IT. He quotes a few lines at the beginning of a chapter.
When John Fogerty recorded this song in the mid-1980s, it felt like a left turn to some listeners who knew him mainly from his days with Creedence Clearwater Revival. The song was not a Fogerty original. It was written and first recorded by Louisiana musician Rockin’ Sidney in 1984, when it became a regional hit. Fogerty heard the song and liked the rhythm and humor in it. Instead of turning it into straight rock, he kept the loose spirit of the original.
Fogerty always loved American roots music, and zydeco is part of that same map. This song shows that side of him, a musician who could step outside his usual style and still sound completely at home.
My Toot Toot
Don’t mess with my toot toot, don’t mess with my toot toot,
Well you can have the other woman, but don’t mess with my toot toot.
She was born in her birth suit, the doctor slap her behind, (slap!)
Say you’re gonna to be special, you sweet little toot toot.
Well you can look as much, but if you much as touch,
You’re gonna have yourself a case – I’m gonna break your face!
Oh toot, hey!
Whoa, mama was the same way too, all the fellas didn’t know what to do,
And papa never had a chance, with a sweet little toot toot.
She was born in her birth suit, the doctor slap her behind, (slap!)
Said you’re gonna to be special, you sweet little toot toot.
Don’t mess with my toot toot, don’t mess with my toot toot,
Well you can have the other woman, but don’t mess with my toot toot.
Doors – The Changeling
I bought L.A. Woman at a family’s yard sale sometime in the 1980s. If I remember correctly, I paid 10 cents for it. The album was in mint condition, which made that dime a pretty good investment.
Like a lot of teenagers, I went through a Doors phase. They were never one of my absolute favorite bands, but I liked a lot of their music and still do. L.A. Woman ended up being my favorite Doors album, and the first song grabbed me immediately. This song was love at first listen.
L.A. Woman was released in 1971 and would be the final Doors album released during Jim Morrison’s lifetime. It was also a change for the band behind the scenes. Longtime producer Paul Rothchild left before the album was recorded, and the Doors worked with engineer Bruce Botnick to produce it themselves. Much of the album was recorded in the band’s rehearsal space rather than a conventional studio. John Densmore later described the result as raw and simple, almost as if the band had come full circle and become a garage band again.
It is a great example of that sound. It has a dirty, funky groove that starts almost immediately. Morrison sounds different from his younger self on Light My Fire. His voice had become rougher and deeper by this point, and it fits this song perfectly. The band sounds loose, but they are locked together.
I’ve never understood why it wasn’t more popular. It wasn’t released as one of the major singles from the album. Love Her Madly became a hit, and Riders on the Storm followed it into the Top 20. The Changeling ended up as the B-side of the Riders on the Storm single. Even today it tends to be overshadowed by those songs and the title track. AllMusic even describes it as one of the album’s “better little-heeded tracks.”
I got my copy of L.A. Woman for about a dime at a yard sale. Of all the few bargains I’ve found over the years, that one turned out pretty well.
The Changeling
I live uptown
I live downtown
I live all around
I had money, and I had none
I had money, and I had none
But I never been so broke that I couldn’t leave town
I’m a changeling
See me change
I’m a changeling
See me change
I’m the air you breathe
Food you eat
Friends you greet in the sullen street
See me change
See me change
I live uptown
I live downtown
I live all around
I had money, yeah, and I had none
I had money, yeah, and I had none
But I never been so broke that I couldn’t leave town
Well, I’m the air you breathe
Food you eat
Friends you greet in the sullen street
You gotta see me change
See me change
Yeah, I’m leavin’ town
On a midnight train
Gotta see me change
Change, change, change
Change, change, change
Change, change, change
Change, change, change
Change, change, change
Alexis Korner – Rain Is Such A Lonesome Sound
A reader, Aerosol, mentioned Alexis Korner when I posted about John Mayall. I want to thank him for that. Much like Mayall, I’ve read about Korner many times over the years, but I never really listened to him like I should have. Once I started looking into him again, I realized just how many roads in British rock lead back to this guy.
Korner and Cyril Davies formed Blues Incorporated in the early sixties. The lineup changed constantly, but some of the names that passed through their world are incredible. Charlie Watts, Jack Bruce, Ginger Baker and Long John Baldry all played with the group at different times. Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Brian Jones, Jimmy Page, Rod Stewart and John Mayall were also part of the larger circle around Korner. Mayall later credited Blues Incorporated with inspiring him to form the Bluesbreakers.
The song that caught my attention was “Rain Is Such A Lonesome Sound.” First of all, how could you not listen to a song with a title like that? It was written by American bluesman Jimmy Witherspoon and appeared on the 1962 Blues Incorporated album R&B from the Marquee. Despite the album’s title, it was actually recorded at Decca Studios in London.
Long John Baldry handled the lead vocal on this song, and there is another connection buried in there. Baldry was filling in for an ill Mick Jagger. Jagger was one of the young musicians hanging around Korner’s circle at the time, along with Keith Richards and Brian Jones. Brian Jones actually played with Blues Incorporated before forming the Rolling Stones.
The recording is wonderfully simple. Baldry has that deep voice that sounds like it was made for this kind of music. Korner and the band don’t crowd him. There is plenty of room in the arrangement, and the whole thing sounds more like musicians playing blues together than musicians trying to make a record.
That may be the thing I’m starting to understand about Alexis Korner. His greatest contribution wasn’t necessarily having the biggest records himself. He gave musicians a place to play, learn and meet other musicians. Some of those musicians eventually became much more famous than he
Here is a bonus track, Gotta Move, and it comes from the same R&B from the Marquee album and is another one I’ve been listening to. It has more drive than Rain Is Such A Lonesome Sound, which makes the two songs work well together.
The more I read about Alexis Korner, the more familiar names keep appearing.
Charlie Watts. Jack Bruce. Ginger Baker. Brian Jones. Mick Jagger. Keith Richards. Jimmy Page. Rod Stewart. John Mayall. I knew the name Alexis Korner. I didn’t realize quite how much music was standing behind it.
So thank you, Aerosol!
Rain Is Such A Lonesome Sound
The Sun should be shinin’
But the rain keeps on fallin’ down
When you’re lookin’ for your woman
The rain is such a lonesome sound
Jethro Tull – Thick As A Brick
Jethro Tull has to be one of the strangest bands to ever become successful. They mixed rock, folk, blues, jazz, and classical music, with Ian Anderson standing on one leg playing the flute. Somehow it all worked.
They were certainly an album band, but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t be catchy. Songs like Living in the Past, Teacher, Aqualung and Locomotive Breath could stick in your head with the best of them. Even when they stretched a song across an entire album, they didn’t forget about melody.
That brings me to Thick as a Brick. After Aqualung was released in 1971, some critics called it a concept album. Ian Anderson has said that wasn’t really what the band intended. So for the next album he decided to take the idea to an absurd extreme. If people wanted a concept album, Jethro Tull would give them one.
Thick as a Brick was released in 1972 and consisted of one continuous piece of music lasting more than 40 minutes. Obviously, an LP had two sides, so the song had to be divided between them. The original album was even packaged like a small-town British newspaper called The St. Cleve Chronicle and Linwell Advertiser.
Then there was Gerald Bostock. The lyrics were presented as a poem written by an eight-year-old boy named Gerald Bostock, who was completely fictional. It was all part of Anderson’s joke. They took the idea of the serious progressive-rock concept album and pushed it about as far as they possibly could.
The funny thing is that the joke produced some seriously good music. The album constantly changes. There are acoustic passages, hard rock, flute, keyboards and odd time signatures. It can become complicated and then suddenly return to something incredibly melodic. The opening acoustic section is the part I always remember. You don’t have to sit down with a calculator and work out the time signatures to enjoy it. The melody sticks with you.
The band at this point was Ian Anderson, Martin Barre, John Evans, Jeffrey Hammond and Barriemore Barlow. Anderson wrote the music and lyrics, although the lyrics were originally credited to our eight-year-old friend Gerald Bostock.
For something created partly as a parody of overly serious concept albums, Thick as a Brick did remarkably well. It reached number one on the American album chart.
Think about that for a second. A band featuring a flute player standing on one leg released an album containing one song that lasted nearly 45 minutes, based around a poem supposedly written by a fictional eight-year-old boy, and America made it the number one album.
The seventies were wonderful. Jethro Tull could be complicated, strange, and sometimes completely over the top. That’s part of what makes them interesting. But underneath all of that, Ian Anderson could write melodies.
That’s what keeps Thick as a Brick from becoming a musical homework assignment for me. It wanders all over the place, but there are sections that grab you immediately. I’m not going to pretend that every time I want to hear the song Thick as a Brick that I have 40-plus minutes available. Sometimes I just want that opening section.
But once it starts, it’s awfully hard to stop. I’m not a huge progressive rock fan. Sometimes I’ve heard bands change time signatures seemingly just because they could. I never get that feeling with Thick as a Brick. The changes seem to have a purpose. Underneath all of the progressive rock, odd time signatures and Ian Anderson’s flute, there are some real pop sensibilities. There are melodies here that stick with you.
One Note: Later CD and digital releases can make Thick as a Brick look like it contains a number of individual tracks or sections. Those divisions were added to make the music easier to navigate in the digital age. The original idea hasn’t changed. It is still one continuous composition, originally divided only by the necessity of flipping the LP over. So if your CD or streaming service shows a list of titles or sections, don’t worry, we haven’t suddenly discovered a bunch of missing Jethro Tull songs.
Thick As A Brick
See there, a man was born and we pronounce him fit for peace
There’s a load lifted from his shoulders with the discovery of his disease
We’ll take the child from him, put it to the test
Teach it to be a wise man, how to fool the rest
We will be geared to the average rather than the exceptional
God is an overwhelming responsibility
Oh, fluffy duck
We walked through the maternity ward and saw two hundred and eighteen babies wearing nylons
It says here that cats are on the upgrade (upgrade?)
Hipgrave, downgrades are rare, it’s got that fat and old cat
In the clear white circles of morning wonder, I take my place with the lord of the hills
And the blue-eyed soldiers stand slightly discoloured
In neat little rows sporting canvas frills
With their jockstraps pinching, they slouch to attention
Whilst queueing for sarnies at the office canteen
Saying “how’s your granny?” and good old Ernie
Coughed up a tenner on a premium bond win
The legends worded in
The ancient tribal hymn
Lie cradled in the seagull’s call
And all the promises they made are ground beneath the sadist’s fall
The poet and the wise man stand behind the gun, behind the gun
And signal for the crack of dawn, light the sun, light the sun
Do you believe in the day?
Do you believe in the day?
The dawn creation of the kings has begun, has begun
Soft Venus, lovely maiden brings the ageless one, the ageless one
Do you believe in the day?
Do you believe in the day?
The fading hero has returned to the night, to the night
And fully pregnant with the day, with the day, wise men endorse the poet’s sight
Do you believe in the day?
Do you believe in the day?
Let me tell you the tales of your life
Of your love and the cut of the knife
The tireless oppression, the wisdom instilled
The desire to kill or be killed
Well, let me sing of the losers who lie
In the street as the last bus goes by
The pavements ar empty, the gutters run red while the fool toasts his god in the sky
So come all ye young men who are building castles!
Kindly state the time of the year
And join your voices in a hellish chorus
Mark the precise nature of your fear
Let me help you pick up your dead
As the sins of the father are fed
With the blood of the fools and the thoughts of the wise
And from the pan under your bed
Well, let me make you a present of song
As the wise man breaks wind and is gone
While the fool with the hour-glass is cooking his goose and the nursery rhyme winds along
So come all ye young men who are building castles
Kindly state the time of the year
And join your voices in a hellish chorus
Mark the precise nature of your fear
See the summer lightning casts its bolts upon you
And the hour of judgement draweth near
Would you be the fool stood in his suit of armour or the wiser man who rushes clear?
So, come on ye childhood heroes!
Won’t your rise up from the pages of your comic-books, your super-crooks
And show us all the way?
Well, make your will and testament
Won’t you join your local government?
We’ll have Superman for president
Let Robin save the day
So where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday?
And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you through?
They’re all resting down in Cornwall writing up their memoirs
For a paper-back edition of the Boy Scout Manual
So you ride yourselves over the fields
And you make all your animal deals
And your wise men don’t know how it feels
To be thick as a brick, yeah
SS Columbia: The Ship That Proved Edison Right
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Mark-Almond – The City / What Am I Living For
Mark-Almond is one of those bands that can send me down a rabbit hole pretty quickly. You start looking at the people involved, and suddenly John Mayall, Marianne Faithfull, Zoot Money and the Alan Price Set all start showing up. But none of that matters if the music isn’t good. The City is good.
Mark-Almond was formed in 1970 by Jon Mark and Johnny Almond. The name can be a little confusing if you don’t know the band. It wasn’t one guy named Mark Almond. Jon Mark was the guitarist and singer, and Johnny Almond played saxophone, flute, and other woodwinds.
The two had met while playing with John Mayall. They appeared together on Mayall’s The Turning Point in 1969 and Empty Rooms in 1970. That period of Mayall’s music was moving away from straight electric blues into something quieter and more open. You can hear some of that approach in what Mark and Almond did next.
They left Mayall and formed Mark-Almond with keyboard player Tommy Eyre and bassist Roger Sutton. Their music wasn’t easy to put into one category. There was jazz, blues, folk and rock, sometimes all within the same song. The City appeared on their self-titled debut album in 1971.
The song develops naturally. Jon Mark’s guitar gives it a loose rhythmic foundation while Johnny Almond’s saxophone helps give the band its identity. That’s probably what I like most about Mark-Almond. They leave room in the music. Nobody sounds like they are trying to win.
The band developed a following, particularly through its live performances, but never became as commercially successful as some of the musicians they had worked with. They broke up in 1973, reunited a couple of years later, and continued recording in different forms into the early 1980s.
They left behind some music that doesn’t sound much like anything else from the period. This one is a good place to start.
What Am I Living For came from Mark-Almond’s 1972 album Rising. Written by Jon Mark, it’s a completely different kind of song from The City. The focus is on Mark’s vocal and a man looking at his life and wondering what all of it is for. A live version appeared on Mark-Almond 73 and became one of the band’s best-known songs on American FM radio. It’s quieter and darker than The City, but it shows the other side of this band. They could stretch out and play, but they could also get out of the way and let a song tell the story.
This is a live performance by them.
The City
Well last night I slept in the open
Down by the redwood trees
Yes last night I slept in the open
Just to let, just to let, just to let my soul free
I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna know
I don’t wanna go back to the city
I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna know
I don’t wanna go back to the city
It’s just a long, long, long, long
Lonely taxi ride
Going nowhere
To no one
No day
No way
Well I woke in the morning early
I could feel the good green earth beneath my tread
Yes I woke in the morning early
That’s when I knew, yes I knew
I knew that the city was dead
I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna know
I don’t wanna go back to the city
I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna know
I don’t wanna go back to the city
It’s just a long, long, long, long
Lonely taxi ride
Going uptown
And downtown
And round and round and round and round
Round and round and round and round
It gets so hot in the city
It gets so hot in the city
It gets so hot in the city
It gets so hot in the city
It gets so hot in the city
It gets so hot in the city
It gets so hot in the city
It gets so hot in the city
It gets so hot in the city
It gets so hot in the city
It gets so hot in the city
Carl Perkins – Dixie Fried
He hollered, Rave on, children, I’m with ya!
Rave on, cats, ” he cried
It’s almost dawn and the cops are gone
Let’s all get Dixie fried
When Carl Perkins comes up, Blue Suede Shoes is naturally the song most people think of. It’s one of the records that helped define rockabilly and early rock and roll. I love that song but Carl was much more than that. So, I dug a little deeper.
This one sounds like it came straight out of a Saturday night honky-tonk where things might get a little out of hand before closing time.
Carl Perkins was from Tiptonville, Tennessee, in 1932 and grew up surrounded by country music, gospel and the blues. By the time he arrived at Sun Records in Memphis, he had already absorbed all of it. That’s what made those early Perkins records so good. You can call them country, rockabilly or rock and roll, but the lines weren’t nearly as clear then as they became later.
Perkins wrote “Dixie Fried” with Howard “Curley” Griffin, a singer and disc jockey from Jackson, Tennessee. The song was recorded at Sun in 1956 and released as a single that August, backed with I’m Sorry, I’m Not Sorry. It reached number 10 on Billboard’s country and western chart.
The timing was interesting. Perkins had just scored a huge hit with “Blue Suede Shoes,” but his career had been interrupted by the terrible automobile accident in March 1956 while he and his band were traveling to New York for a television appearance. Perkins was injured and his brother Jay was hurt even more seriously. This is an honest song, it came from the world Perkins knew.
He later remembered some of the rough honky-tonks around Jackson where the band played. There could be chicken wire around the musicians and the jukebox to protect them from flying bottles. Behind the bar might be an axe handle ready for anyone who didn’t understand when it was time to leave.
Listen to this song with that picture in your head.
The song isn’t somebody imagining what a wild Southern honky-tonk might have been like. Perkins had been in those places. The music has that same feeling. It’s loose and raw and sounds as if it could fall apart at any second, but it never does.
That’s one of the things I like about those Sun recordings. Sam Phillips didn’t polish everything until the personality disappeared. You can hear the room. You can hear the musicians working together. Most importantly, you can hear Carl Perkins.
Perkins never had another record as commercially successful as Blue Suede Shoes, but his influence went much further than the charts. The Beatles were huge fans and recorded several of his songs. George Harrison was especially influenced by his guitar playing, and Perkins became one of those musicians that other musicians studied.
Jim Dickinson later covered Dixie Fried, which gives me another connection to this song. Dickinson played piano on the Rolling Stones’ Wild Horses and later produced Big Star’s Third/Sister Lovers. I’ve featured his version of this song before by him, so apparently this song has been following me around for a while.
This may not be the Carl Perkins song everybody knows. That’s probably another reason I like it. It sounds like rock and roll before anybody had figured out exactly what rock and roll was supposed to sound like.
I would have loved to hear Carl Perkins in one of those 1950s bars/taverns.
Dixie Fried
Well on the outskirts of town, there’s a little night spot
Dan dropped in about five o’clock
Pulled off his coat, said “The night is short.”
He reached in his pocket and he flashed a quart
And hollered, “Rave on, children, I’m with ya!
Rave on, cats, ” he cried
It’s almost dawn and the cops are gone
Let’s all get Dixie fried”
Now, Dan got happy and he started raving
He jerked out his razor, but he wasn’t shaving
And all the cats knew to jump and hop,
‘Cause he was born and raised in a butcher shop
He hollered, “Rave on, children, I’m with ya!
Rave on, cats, ” he cried
“It’s almost dawn and the cops are gone
Let’s all get Dixie fried.”
The cops heard Dan when he started to shout
They all ran in to see what it was about
And I heard him holler when they led him away
He turned his head, and this is what he had to say
Hollered, “Rave on children, I’m with ya!
Rave on, cats, ” he cried
“It’s almost dawn and the cops are gone
Let’s all get Dixie fried”
Now, Dan was the bravest man that we ever saw
He let us all know he wasn’t scared of the law
And through the black crossed bar he tossed a note to his dig
It said “It ain’t my fault, hun, that I’m in here”
But hollered, “Rave on, children, I’m with you!
Rave on, cats, ” he cried
It’s almost dawn and the cops ain’t gone,
And I’ve been Dixie fried
Max’s Drive-In Movie – The Wolf Man (1941)
When I was a kid, I would watch The Wolf Man whenever it came on Creature Feature on local television in Nashville. I loved those old Universal monster movies, although I probably shouldn’t have been watching some of them at my age. I always had more sympathy for the Wolf Man and Frankenstein; they didn’t ask for this.
This one scared me. The funny thing is that I was also pulling for the Wolf Man. I felt sorry for him in much the same way I felt sorry for Frankenstein’s monster. Larry Talbot wasn’t an evil man. Something terrible happened to him, and he couldn’t stop it. Even as a kid, that made the movie different to me.
The Wolf Man was released by Universal in 1941 and starred Lon Chaney Jr. as Larry Talbot. Chaney had a pretty big shadow hanging over him before he ever put on the makeup. His father was Lon Chaney, the legendary silent-film star known as the Man of a Thousand Faces.
With the Wolf Man, the younger Chaney found the character that would forever be associated with him.
Larry returns to his family home in Wales after the death of his brother and tries to reconnect with his father, Sir John Talbot, played by Claude Rains. He meets Gwen Conliffe, played by Evelyn Ankers, and buys a silver-headed walking stick from her father’s shop. Then things start going badly.
Larry tries to rescue Gwen’s friend Jenny from what appears to be a wolf. He kills the animal with the silver walking stick but is bitten during the attack. The wolf was actually Bela, a werewolf played by Bela Lugosi. Larry has inherited the curse.
That’s what makes the story work for me. Larry doesn’t ask for any of this. He doesn’t want the power that comes with becoming the Wolf Man. He doesn’t enjoy what happens to him. He is frightened by it and spends much of the movie trying to understand what is happening.
There is also a sadness to Lon Chaney’s performance that makes you care about Larry Talbot. You know where the story is going and so does he.
The supporting cast is incredible. Claude Rains had already appeared in The Invisible Man. Bela Lugosi was forever connected with Dracula. Maria Ouspenskaya plays Maleva, the woman who understands exactly what has happened to Larry and tries to help him.
The movie was written by Curt Siodmak and directed by George Waggner. One of Siodmak’s smartest additions was the little werewolf poem repeated throughout the movie. It sounds like something handed down through European folklore, but Siodmak invented it for the film.
Even a man who is pure in heart
And says his prayers by night
May become a wolf when the wolfbane blooms
And the autumn moon is bright
Jack Pierce created the Wolf Man makeup. Pierce was already responsible for some of Universal’s most famous monster makeup, including Boris Karloff’s Frankenstein monster. The Wolf Man became another one of his creations that became part of popular culture.
What amazes me now is how short the movie is. It runs only about 70 minutes. There isn’t much wasted time. Larry comes home, meets Gwen, encounters the werewolf, and his life begins falling apart. The fog, the woods, and the old Universal sets do the rest. Watching it today, you can see that much of what frightened me as a kid was atmosphere.
And maybe that’s why these movies worked so well on television. You didn’t need blood flying everywhere. Give me a dark room, an old black-and-white television, some fog rolling through the woods, and the Wolf Man walking between the trees. My imagination would handle the rest!
The movie was successful enough that Chaney returned as Larry Talbot several more times. He played him in Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man, House of Frankenstein, House of Dracula, and finally Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein.
But this is the one I remember. There were monsters I was simply afraid of when I was a kid. Larry Talbot was different. I was afraid of the Wolf Man. But I felt sorry for the man.
John Mayall – Three Guitarists – Three Songs
We are going to mix it up this morning. Instead of focusing on one song, let’s hit 3 with 3 different guitarists. John Mayall is one of those people whose influence is much larger than his record sales would suggest. Before the blogs, I read about the guy but never knew much about him. I can’t tell you how much I think this man gave to blues and rock.
Mayall became one of the central figures in the British blues movement of the 1960s. His Bluesbreakers became almost a school for musicians. John McVie, Jack Bruce, Mick Fleetwood, and Aynsley Dunbar all passed through at different times. Think about that for a second. That is crazy talent and led to iconic bands. Then there were the guitar players.
Eric Clapton. Peter Green. Mick Taylor.
That’s a damn great list!
What I like is that they didn’t sound alike. Mayall didn’t seem interested in finding another Eric Clapton every time somebody left. He found great players and gave them room to be themselves. You can hear that by picking three songs from three different periods.
Looking Back – Peter Green
Peter Green had one of the toughest jobs imaginable when he joined the Bluesbreakers. He replaced Eric Clapton, who had become a guitar hero during his time with Mayall. Green didn’t try to become another Clapton. His playing was more economical and sometimes darker. This song, originally written and recorded by Johnny “Guitar” Watson, gives us an early glimpse of Green with Mayall. It’s a short song, but Green gets plenty into it without taking it over. Green would soon leave Mayall and take John McVie with him to form Fleetwood Mac. Mick Fleetwood joined them shortly afterward.
Oh, Pretty Woman – Mick Taylor
Then Mayall had to replace Peter Green.
Enter 18-year-old Mick Taylor.
This song appeared on the 1967 album Crusade. The song came from Albert King, which gave Taylor some serious shoes to fill before he even played a note. What strikes me is how mature Taylor already sounds. He isn’t just playing fast because he can. His guitar lines are clean and melodic and you can already hear some of the qualities he would later bring to the Rolling Stones. Taylor stayed with Mayall for about two years before joining the Stones in 1969.
Mayall had now watched Eric Clapton leave for Cream, Peter Green leave to form Fleetwood Mac, and Mick Taylor leave for the Rolling Stones. Everytime he lost someone, he would pick up another future legend.
Prisons on the Road – Eric Clapton
Eric Clapton eventually came back. This song appeared on Mayall’s 1971 album Back to the Roots. The album was something of a reunion, with several former Mayall musicians returning to play with him. Clapton was among them, along with Mick Taylor and others.
By this point Clapton had already gone through Cream, Blind Faith and Derek and the Dominos. He wasn’t the young guitarist who had joined the Bluesbreakers a few years earlier. But hearing him back with Mayall brings the story around nicely. That’s what people keep coming back to with Mayall.
The Bluesbreakers changed constantly, but Mayall was the center of it. He gave young musicians a place to play blues seriously and then watched many of them move on to some of the biggest bands of their generation.
Eric Clapton, Peter Green, and Mick Taylor. Three very different guitar players.
One John Mayall.
Oh Pretty Woman
Oh, pretty woman, you’s a rising sun
You say your cheap change in powder ain’t gonna help you none
‘Cause you’s a pretty woman right down to your toes
So you just might as well leave your skin alone
Pretty woman, what’s the matter with you?
Can’t make you love me no matter what I do
Oh, pretty woman, what you trying to do?
You kept on fooling ’round just like I stepped on you
So you just drop that mask and come down off your throne
Stop using my poor heart as just a stepping stone
Pretty woman, what’s the matter with you?
Can’t make you love me no matter what I do
Oh, pretty woman, that’s all right for you
But you just go on doing what you want to do
Some day when you think that you have got it made
You’re gonna need my help, and it’ll be too late
Pretty woman, what’s the matter with you?
Can’t make you love me no matter what I do
Can’t make you love me no matter what I do
SS Princess Alice: Tragedy on the Thames
Hope you can come by today at oldsteamships.blog. I would appreciate it. Have a great weekend!
Leo Kottke – The Other Day (Near Santa Cruz)
Every once I like venturing down the unbeaten path. Leo Kottke certainly qualifies, although great guitar playing is never too far outside of my wheelhouse.
Kottke is one of those guitar players who can make you wonder how many people are actually playing. He is known for both six and twelve-string acoustic guitar, using fingerpicking, slide, and different tunings to get sounds out of the instrument that most of us could only wish for.
He was from Athens, Georgia, and he moved around quite a bit while growing up before settling in Minnesota. He started playing guitar when he was young and became especially interested in the twelve-string. By the late sixties, he was playing around Minneapolis and recorded his first album, 12-String Blues.
His big early break came through guitarist John Fahey. Kottke sent Fahey a demo and ended up recording 6- and 12-String Guitar for Fahey’s Takoma Records in 1969. The album, sometimes called the Armadillo album because of its cover, established Kottke as one of the most distinctive acoustic guitar players around.
Kottke eventually signed with Capitol Records and continued recording throughout the seventies and beyond. His aggressive playing style eventually caused problems with his hands and forced him to change his technique. He adapted and kept playing.
This song came much later on his 1991 album Great Big Boy. The album was produced by Steve Berlin of Los Lobos and was unusual for Kottke because every song included vocals. Kottke had always been much better known as an instrumental guitarist than as a singer.
This song caught me because it’s funny. Kottke tells the story through a guy who thinks he has everything figured out, including women and where he can find the ones he wants. He decides Santa Cruz is the place to go looking for “hippie chicks.” By the end, it becomes pretty obvious that this guy doesn’t understand nearly as much as he thinks he does.
Apparently not everyone got the joke. Kottke later said he stopped performing the song because audiences tended to either love it or hate it. Some listeners apparently thought Kottke identified with the character instead of realizing that the character himself was part of the joke.
I like songs like this. It is a little strange, funny, and has a hell of a groove. Underneath all of that is Kottke’s guitar playing, which is the reason I started listening in the first place. If you want to hear why Leo Kottke has the reputation he does as a guitarist, listen to Vaseline Machine Gun (Posted Below).
The song appeared on 6- and 12-String Guitar in 1969. There are no vocals, and none are needed. It’s just Kottke and a guitar, but at times it sounds like considerably more than one person playing. This is the other side of Leo Kottke and probably the best way to finish this post. This song shows his humor and personality.
This song shows what he could do with a guitar. Give Leo a listen!
The Other Day (Near Santa Cruz)
I met a guy the other day he said he had it all figured out
He claimed he was ecstatic and he proved it with a shout
“I like hippie chicks, ” he said, “they’re not so damn dumb
They don’t sing like Ethel Merman, they don’t imitate nuns
“They comb their hair with porcupines and loofah their feet
And they become indignant when you threaten them with meat
Their windows grin like pumpkins filled with candles and beads
Their beds are all futonic and there’s babies on their knees.”
“But my mother wears a hat, ” he said, “extruded from a tank
And my sister reads good housekeeping and worships at the bank
My grandma loves Pat Robertson says he’s it that’s that
And my wife says I’m a lunatic but hippie chicks are where it’s at.”
He told me this while revving up his brand new pick up truck
He wore a leather hat and shades above a 12-pack gut
“I know where they got hippie chicks, they’re all in Santa Cruz”
Then he jammed a tape in his Blaupunkt and drove off born to lose
Cause although he got the message he was deaf to the news
There are no chicks in Santa Cruz
Chuck Berry – Brown Eyed Handsome Man
I love the intro to this song. Chuck Berry hits that guitar figure, and it is off and running. It never really lets up after that. The song just rolls along for a little over two minutes, and then it’s gone.
Chuck Berry wrote and recorded this in 1956, during the incredible early run that also gave us songs like Maybellene, Roll Over Beethoven, and Too Much Monkey Business. It was released by Chess Records as the B-side of Too Much Monkey Business and later appeared on Berry’s 1957 debut album, After School Session.
Berry got the idea while traveling in California. He later remembered seeing mostly Black and Hispanic audiences in some of the places where he performed. Those experiences started working their way into the song. Some say it’s a nod to Jackie Robinson as well.
That gives it another dimension. On the surface it’s funny, clever and full of Berry’s usual wordplay. Women throughout history apparently can’t resist the brown-eyed handsome man. Underneath the humor, though, Berry was writing about race at a time when doing it too directly could limit where a record was played.
That’s one of the things that made Chuck Berry such a great songwriter. He could put quite a bit into a two-minute rock and roll song without stopping the music to explain it.
The final verse is one of my favorites. Berry suddenly takes us to a baseball game. There are two outs with nobody on, the batter hits one into the stands and comes around third headed for home. Berry never names the player, but coming only nine years after Jackie Robinson broke baseball’s color barrier, the image of a brown-eyed, handsome man winning the game would have meant something. Although…he did take poetic license with 2-3 the count.
Berry recorded the song during the same April 1956 session that produced Roll Over Beethoven and Too Much Monkey Business. Johnnie Johnson was on piano, Willie Dixon played bass, and Melvin Billups was on drums. That’s quite a band behind you. Johnnie Johnson would have a resurgence in the 1980s and 90s.
Sometimes his guitar playing gets reduced to that familiar Chuck Berry riff, but listen to the records themselves. His timing was fantastic. He knew exactly when to play and when to leave room. This song is a perfect example. I love that opening, but I also love what happens afterward. Chuck Berry gets the thing moving. Then he never lets it stop.
Brown Eyed Handsome Man
A-a-arrested on charges of unemployment
He was sitting in the witness stand
The judges wife called up the district attorney
She said, “Free that brown-eyed man.
If you want your job, you better free that brown-eyed man.”
Flying across the desert in a TWA,
I saw a woman walkin’ ‘cross the sand.
She’d been walking thirty miles en route to Bombay
To meet a brown-eyed handsome man,
Her destination was a brown-eyed handsome man.
Way back in history, three thousand years,
In fact ever since the world began,
There’s been a whole lotta good women shedding tears
All for a brown-eyed handsome man,
(It)’sa lot of trouble with a brown-eyed handsome man.
Beautiful daughter couldn’t make up her mind
Between a doctor and a lawyer man.
Her mother told her, “Darling go out and find yourself
A brown-eyed handsome man,
Just like your daddy He’s a brown-eyed handsome man.”
Marlo Venus was a beautiful lass,
She had the world in the palm of her hand
She lost both her arms in a wrestling match
To meet a brown-eyed handsome man,
She fought and won herself a brown-eyed handsome man.
2-3 the count with nobody on
He hit a high fly into the stands
Roundin’ third, he was headed for home
It was a brown-eyed handsome man that won the game
It was a brown-eyed handsome man.
Chris Mars – Popular Creeps
When his solo album Horseshoes and Hand Grenades was released in 1992, it surprised many Replacements fans. Mars was the drummer for them, and this came as a revelation to fans who didn’t know he could write, sing, play guitar and keyboards, as well as drums. One of my friends wrote Chris when this album came out and told him how much he liked it. Chris handwrote a letter back thanking him for listening. I’ve always thought that was a cool thing to do. This song was an alternative hit.
This song was one of the songs that immediately showed there was much more to Mars than we had heard in the Replacements. He wrote the songs on the album and handled the vocals, guitars, keyboards, and drums, with J.D. Foster playing bass. Soul Asylum’s Dave Pirner and Dan Murphy also made appearances on the album. Horseshoes and Hand Grenades was produced by Mars and Tom Herbers and recorded at Paisley Park in Minnesota.
This song takes aim at cliques and the people who decide who is popular and who isn’t. Mars writes it from the other side, with his sympathy firmly with the outsiders. It has some of the attitude you would expect from someone who spent years in the Replacements, but it also has a catchy power-pop sound. A review at the time compared the song to the Kinks meeting the Faces in a Minneapolis garage. I can hear that.
Mars became the first former Replacements member to release a solo album. That was something no one expected. The song has the energy of his old band, but he said he wasn’t deliberately trying to sound like the Replacements. He simply made the music he wanted to hear. There is certainly some of that Replacements energy here, but Horseshoes and Hand Grenades showed that Mars had his own voice.
This is my favorite track from the album. It’s melodic, sarcastic, and rough enough around the edges. Plus, I like the fact that he takes aim at the popular high school cliques of our youth. He may have been the drummer in one of my favorite bands, but this album proved he was much more than that.
Music, though, is not what Chris Mars does best. He eventually concentrated much more on his visual art, becoming known for his paintings and other artwork. For someone most people first knew as the guy sitting behind the drum kit in the Replacements, he turned out to have quite a few things up his sleeve.
Chris Mars is an internationally known artist who has sold a lot of his paintings and other artworks. He also has animations on YouTube.
His website is https://www.chrismarspublishing.com/
Popular Creeps
Just around the corner, there they are again.
Legends in their minds of those around.
If they try to slap us with their ego-signs.
Gather up the clowns to cut ’em down.
The Popular Creeps are talking bad about us with our backs turned.
They better leave us stoners alone.
The Popular Creeps are riding high until the day they get burned.
Who’s gonna love ’em when they’re unknown?
Holier than thou egos to make us sick.
Seven hundred heartslaps wouldn’t help.
Some will lick their own boots simply ’cause they exist.
Others would conclude it’s time to mix.
The Popular Creeps are talking bad about us with our backs turned.
They better leave us stoners alone.
Isn’t today the day the tables turned? I hear them falling.
Who’s gonna love ’em when they’re unknown?
Here they come, you mice. Get ready.
It’s time to cut ’em down.
(Instrumental Break)
The Popular Creeps are talking bad about us with our backs turned.
They better leave us stoners alone.
The Popular Creeps are riding high until the day they get burned.
Who’s gonna love ’em when they’re unknown?
Here they come, you clowns. Get ready.
The table’s turned. The creeps all learned
It’s time to cut ’em down.
Yes – Looking Around
I can’t believe that after all these years I have never featured Yes. I thought I would start near the beginning instead of going immediately to one of the songs everyone knows.
“Looking Around” comes from their self-titled debut album, released in 1969. This was before Steve Howe joined the band. The original lineup was Jon Anderson on vocals, Chris Squire on bass, Peter Banks on guitar, Tony Kaye on keyboards, and Bill Bruford on drums.
And what a lineup that was. Jon Anderson and Chris Squire had formed Yes in 1968, and Peter Banks was actually the one who suggested the name. Banks sometimes gets overlooked because Steve Howe followed him and became such an important part of the classic Yes sound. Banks was an excellent guitar player in his own right, and you can hear that all over this first album.
The early version of Yes was a little different from the progressive rock band they would soon become. The pieces were already there, but there was still plenty of pop in their sound. Their first album even included covers of the Byrds’ I See You and the Beatles’ Every Little Thing.
“Looking Around” was written by Jon Anderson and Chris Squire. Tony Kaye’s organ jumps out immediately, but being a bass player, my ears eventually go straight to Squire. Chris Squire was on another level.
There aren’t many bass players I would put in the same company as John Entwistle, Jack Bruce and Paul McCartney, but Squire is one of them. Like those players, his bass became another voice in the song.
You can really hear that on this song. Squire is moving all over the place, but he doesn’t get in the way. With Bill Bruford playing drums underneath him, a lot is happening in that rhythm section. Then you have Peter Banks working around Tony Kaye’s organ instead of simply playing chords over it. Everyone seems to have their own space.
Yes would change considerably over the next few years. Banks left after their second album, Time and a Word, and Steve Howe joined. Tony Kaye would eventually leave and Rick Wakeman would come in. By the time of Fragile and Close to the Edge, the classic Yes sound was fully developed.
It’s cool to hear this album to show where they came from. This sounds like a band that hasn’t completely figured out what it is going to become yet. But you can hear it coming.
Looking Around
Looking around me
There’s not so much in life I miss
Things that I can’t see
I’ll touch and I’ll feel then I’ll kiss
Then I saw you standing there
With a smile I couldn’t share
Just looking around everywhere
Tunes that I can’t hear
Would take me for a while my smile
Fares that are too dear
I’d rather walk out another mile
Then I heard a tune so right
It was in the dark of night
Just listening around everywhere
All the things I’ve wanted to do
Take so much time to get around to you
Just reach out and catch and hold on
Leaving trails of dust and lust
Never even lying or trying, keep on moving, never dying
Smiles that I don’t see
I’ll make them up as I go on
Laughs that just can’t be
I’ll make and laugh at every one
Then I saw you in your place
With a laugh upon your face
Just looking around everywhere
All the things I’ve wanted to do
Take so much time to get around to you
Just reach out and catch and hold on
Leaving trails of dust and lust
Never even lying or trying, keep on moving, never dying
Looking around with my feet on the ground
Full of words and of sound, bringing smiles all around
Satisfy me with your words that can be
Full of sound and I’ll see I’m just looking around