Little Village – Don’t Bug Me When I’m Working

All I had to do was read off the members, and I knew I would like this band. Who were the members? Ry Cooder, John Hiatt, Nick Lowe, and Jim Keltner. Each one of them is a legend, but when they teamed up in 1992, they made music that felt effortless.. This song plays like an anthem for anyone who has ever tried to get something done while the world keeps knocking at the door.

When Little Village came together in the early 1990s, it wasn’t a typical supergroup situation. Ry Cooder, John Hiatt, Nick Lowe, and Jim Keltner had already worked together in the studio. They worked on Hiatt’s 1987 album Bring the Family, a record cut in just four days. This album would be called Little Village. 

Around 1991, discussions began about whether those four players could try something more equal and together as a band. Nick Lowe summed up the vibe when he said, “We only needed a name and a reason.” The name came from a 1930s reference, but the reason was simply that they liked working with each other. This wasn’t a record-company idea, and it wasn’t nostalgia.

While the sessions were friendly, the band admitted that being equals instead of backups slowed things down. Decisions took longer, and sometimes a song would go in five directions before landing on one. Lowe joked that it was like “four people in the passenger seat reaching for the wheel.” Critics generally liked it, although some expected another John Hiatt album and were surprised by its humor and different musical turns. Fans of any one member found something to enjoy. The album even received a Grammy nomination for Best Rock Performance by a Duo or Group.

Nick Lowe did say it wasn’t as good as it could have been. He blamed it on having too much time to record it. The album peaked at #22 in the UK and #66 on the Billboard Album Charts in 1992. Over time, this album has developed a cult following, especially among fans of Hiatt and Cooder.

This next video has a bonus live song, She Runs Hot. Enjoy Ry Cooder’s slide before they break into Don’t Bug Me When I’m Working.

Don’t Bug Me When I’m Working

Don’t bug me when I’m working
I’m working, I’m working
Don’t bug me when I’m working
Got a job to do

Don’t bug me when I’m working
I’m working, I’m working
Don’t bug me when I’m working
I don’t work for you

If you bug me at work I can’t get it done
Too tired, baby to have any fun
You got complaints, better keep ’em hid
Don’t come ’round here mess with the kid

Don’t bug me when I’m sleepin’
I’m sleepin’, I’m sleepin’
Don’t bug me when I’m sleepin’
‘Cause I need my rest
Don’t bug me when I’m

Don’t bug me when I’m got to buzz awhile
I said don’t bug me when I’m working
I’m working, I’m working
Don’t bug me when I’m working
Got a job to do

Now you bug me at home when I’m tired and beat
Can’t even stand on my own two feet
You call on the phone, you make me uptight
And I can’t even work with my baby at night

Don’t bug me when I’m working
I’m working, I’m working
Don’t bug me when I’m working
Got a job to do

Don’t bug me when I’m working
I’m working, I’m working
Don’t bug me when I’m working
I don’t work for you

Don’t bug me
‘Cause I don’t work for you
Don’t bug me
Mister I don’t work for you

Don’t bug me, don’t bug me
‘Cause I don’t work for you
Don’t bug me, don’t bug me
‘Cause I don’t work for you
At the sound of the tone
Better hang up the phone
If you want to be my friend
Don’t bug me when I’m working

…

Jesse Ed Davis – ¡Jesse Davis! …album review

I’ve heard of this guy for so long, associated with Taj Mahal and solo Beatles tracks. He played on over 80 albums of other artists. His guitar playing was top shelf and was truly one of the guitar greats. He doesn’t get the attention he deserves. My admitted lack of knowledge of him led me to think he could only play guitar. Much like last week’s Link Wray post, who I didn’t know could sing, he had a really good voice. I also want to thank Lisa from Tao-Talk for posting a Davis song last Friday. 

Jesse Ed Davis was Kiowa, Comanche, and Muscogee (Creek) on his father’s side, while his mother was of Kiowa and Cherokee descent with a small strand of European ancestry. In other words, he was overwhelmingly Native American, with family roots braided through several Plains and Southeastern tribes. He grew up connected to that identity, not as a stage costume, but as him. His dad painted the cover for this album. 

I started to go through his albums like ¡Jesse Davis!, Ululu, and Keep Me Comin or Keep On Coming. He has a couple more, which I still have to get to. I’m totally impressed by his rootsy music. Again, instead of just picking a song, I wanted to feature the album. There is no #1 hit on the album, nor do I think he was trying for that. Just really good, solid songs. 

When Jesse Ed Davis stepped into a studio to record his 1971 debut album ¡Jesse Davis!. He had already carved out a reputation as the guitarist you called when you wanted soul and a heavenly guitar tone, and most importantly, zero ego. He’d played with Taj Mahal, recorded with Gene Clark, and done sessions with everyone from Albert King to Earl Hooker, Jackson Browne, John Lennon, and a ton of other artists. Jesse was the go-to guitarist of the 1970s. 

How respected was he? On this album, he had some incredible guests. Eric Clapton, Leon Russell, Gram Parsons, Alan White, and the Gimme Shelter singer Merry Clayton. This album sounds like a loose jam session that worked all the way around. My favorite song on the album is Washita Love Child. It just hit me and has stuck. I found myself hitting the play button again and again. The band around him cooks with an irresistible looseness. You can hear Clapton on his track loud and clear. After researching for this post, I found out it was featured on the TV show  Reservation Dogs. 

The album works because it stays out of its own way. Lou Adler keeps the production loose and moving. Leon Russell arranged some of the songs and added his unique touch. The songs drift between blues, roots rock, and a kind of West Coast soul. Reno Street Incident floats in like someone cracked open a window at two in the morning. Every Night Is Saturday Night for Me comes alive with Leon’s piano, rolling forward like only Leon can do. And when Gram Parsons or Eric Clapton pop up, they don’t hijack the song; they simply join in.

What really holds everything together is Jesse’s guitar, a voice unto itself. He never shows off, he never “shreds,” he simply plays for the song. His solos feel lived in and warm. He didn’t shout to be heard; he just played. Hearing him play and sing on this album is like slipping into a holey, comfortable favorite shirt.

The album doesn’t scream commercial…it doesn’t scream at all. It’s an album you put on and listen to all the way through, and sit back and enjoy some great music. Jesse Ed Davis passed away in 1988 at the young age of 43. 

I added a 10-minute documentary clip.

Washita Love Child

I was born on the bank
in the Washitaw river
in a Kiowa Comanche teepee

Daddy had a hard time
Mama made his eyes shine
Lord, it was just us three
Well they weaned me riding bareback
And I’d tie my hair back
And i did that pow wow thang
Daddy showed up with his stand up guitar
and then we rocked it i believe

I’m a love child
and I’m running wild
hope it don’t take too long
I’m a love you
I’m a try to make you happy
you got to let me sing my song

Mama said to son
Said what about your school books?
Baby baby what about the draft?
Daddy said honey don’t you worry about this boy he’s headed somewhere
Got a guitar and a van to ride

He’s a love child
He’s gonna be running wild
Hope he don’t take too long
He’s gonna love you
He’s in love with me too
So we got to let him sing his song

Well i got myself together
And i’ve been rolling down the road
Gonna boogie down down down down
If i ever get a chance to boogie woogie you
Ha, you can’t sit down

…

Pretenders – Kid

I’ve been a Pretenders fan since I heard Brass in Pocket when it was released. Although I would spend a long time tracking down the name of it. In the 1980s, you could count on them to release something good and not the standard top 40 music. Chrissie Hynde had more grit in her singing than most of her male and female peers. She wasn’t here to sing you a pretty song; she meant business.

The original band was something special. The members were James Honeyman-Scott (lead guitar, backing vocals, keyboards), Pete Farndon (bass guitar, backing vocals), and Martin Chambers (drums, backing vocals, percussion)…and of course Chrissie Hynde. To convince guitarist James Honeyman-Scott to join The Pretenders, Chrissie Hynde hired one of his favorite recording artists, Nick Lowe, to produce the song Stop Your Sobbing, an album cut of The Kinks. Chris Thomas would go on to produce all the other songs on the album.

When the Pretenders burst onto the scene in 1979, they didn’t arrive with punk guitars (although the spirit was there). They were armed with mostly Hynde’s melodic songs. Chrissie Hynde was a new kind of female rock vocalist, vulnerable and dangerous all at once. She was/is a badass but still relatable. This song was the band’s second single in 1979 and was included on their 1980 debut album. It is a great slice of power pop that blends jangly guitars, melodic melancholy. I love James Honeyman-Scott’s intro guitar run; it makes the song for me. It’s very obvious why Chrissie wanted him in the band.

Hynde has stated the song is about a woman who works in “the game” (prostitution) to get by, and her sadness when her child learns the truth about what she does. Following the 1981 Pretenders album Pretenders II, two of the four band members, Pete Farndon and James Honeyman-Scott, died of drug overdoses, leaving just Hynde and drummer Martin Chambers, who remained the mainstays in the band amongst a rotating cast of guitarists and bass players through the 1980s.

The song peaked at #33 in the UK in 1979.

Kid

Kid, what changed your mood?You got all sad, so I feel sad tooI think I knowSome things you never outgrow

You think it’s wrongI can tell you doHow can I explainWhen you don’t want me to?

Kid, my only kidYou look so small, you’ve gone so quietI know you know what I’m aboutI won’t deny it

But you forgetYou don’t understandYou’ve turned your headYou’ve dropped my hand

All my sorrowAll my bluesAll my sorrow

Shut the lightGo awayFull of graceYou cover your face

Kid, precious kidYour eyes are blue, but you won’t cry, I knowAngry tears are too dearYou won’t let them go

Parliament Funkadelic – Give Up The Funk (Tear The Roof Off the Sucker)

Ow, we want the funk
Give up the funk

I’ve always liked funk music, but I haven’t heard a lot of it as much as other types of music. Posting the Meters a few weeks ago gave me the urge to listen to more. Where else would I go other than to follow fellow bassist Bootsy Collins? He most certainly brought the funk and runs on the bass that were incredible. 

The opening alone feels like a giant neon sign flickering to life: FUNK DELIVERED HERE, with Bootsy Collins’ bass out walking and running amok. George Clinton started this band, but when I hear them, I can’t help but think of Collins. Maybe it’s the bass player in me. 

Before the stage costumes, before Bootsy’s star-shaped bass, George Clinton was running a humble doo-wop group out of a New Jersey barbershop. That is where the so-called P-Funk universe first sparked to life. In the late 1950s Clinton worked as a hairdresser in Plainfield, New Jersey, and formed a vocal group called The Parliaments. Inspired by groups like Frankie Lymon & The Teenagers, their sound leaned closer to street-corner harmonies and teenage heartbreak rather than spaced-out funk. They spent their early years cutting singles for small labels, chasing a hit, and stacking harmonies with tight choreography.

Their first real breakthrough came in 1967 with the single “(I Wanna) Testify“, which scraped the charts and gave the group national attention. But success came tangled in bad contracts, which would later force Clinton to get creative with band names. After hearing Psychedelic Soul, Clinton began to shift toward that kind of music in the late 1960s under the name Funkadelic, as he had temporarily lost the rights to the name Parliaments. Funkadelic allowed Clinton to push into psychedelic territory, influenced by Hendrix, Sly Stone, and Cream. The debut Funkadelic album arrived in 1970, and suddenly the group had two separate identities. Later on, after he got the name back, he combined the bands, and they were known as P-Funk. 

What really sparked this band was former James Brown bass player Bootsy Collins, when he joined in 1972. His brother, guitarist, Phelps “Catfish” Collins, was already in the band. This guy is a fantastic bass player, and there isn’t much better than him. This song became Parliament’s first million-selling single and remains one of the most recognizable funk tracks ever cut. It was played in discos, block parties, roller rinks, sports arenas, on the radio, and later, hip-hop sampling culture.

This album was called The Mothership Connection (Clinton was a huge Star Trek fan) peaked at #13 on the Billboard Album Charts and #4 on the R&B album charts. The song peaked at #15 on the Billboard 100 in 1975. 

Give Up The Funk (Tear The Roof Off the Sucker)

Tear the roof off, we’re gonna tear the roof off the mother sucker
Tear the roof off the sucker
Tear the roof off, we’re gonna tear the roof off the mother sucker
Tear the roof off the sucker
Tear the roof off, we’re gonna tear the roof off the mother sucker
Tear the roof off the sucker
Tear the roof off, we’re gonna tear the roof off the mother sucker
Tear the roof off the sucker

You’ve got a real type of thing going down, gettin’ down
There’s a whole lot of rhythm going round
You’ve got a real type of thing going down, gettin’ down
There’s a whole lot of rhythm going round

Ow, we want the funk
Give up the funk
Ow, we need the funk
We gotta have that funk
Ow, we want the funk
Give up the funk
Ow, we need the funk
We gotta have that funk

You’ve got a real type of thing going down, gettin’ down
There’s a whole lot of rhythm going round
You’ve got a real type of thing going down, gettin’ down
There’s a whole lot of rhythm going round

Ow, we want the funk
Give up the funk
Ow, we need the funk
We gotta have that funk
Ow, we want the funk
Give up the funk
Ow, we need the funk
We gotta have that funk

We’re gonna turn this mother out
We’re gonna turn this mother out

You’ve got a real type of thing going down, gettin’ down
There’s a whole lot of rhythm going round
You’ve got a real type of thing going down, gettin’ down
There’s a whole lot of rhythm going round
You’ve got a real type of thing going down, gettin’ down
There’s a whole lot of rhythm going round
You’ve got a real type of thing going down, gettin’ down
There’s a whole lot of rhythm going round

Ow, we want the funk
Give up the funk
Ow, we need the funk
We gotta have that funk
Ow, we want the funk
Give up the funk
Ow, we need the funk
We gotta have that funk

Ow, we want the funk
Give up the funk
Ow, we need the funk
(Let us in, we’ll tear this mother out)
We gotta have that funk
Ow, we want the funk
Give up the funk
Ow, we need the funk
(Let us in, we’ll tear this mother out)
We gotta have that funk

Ow, we want the funk
Give up the funk
Ow, we need the funk
We gotta have that funk
Ow, we want the funk
Give up the funk
Ow, we need the funk
We gotta have that funk
Ow, we want the funk
Give up the funk
Ow, we need the funk
We gotta have that funk

(We’re gonna turn this mother out)
Ow, we want the funk
Give up the funk
(We’re gonna turn this mother out)
Ow, we need the funk
We gotta have that funk
(We’re gonna turn this mother out)
Ow, we want the funk
Give up the funk
(We’re gonna turn this mother out)
Ow, we need the funk
We gotta have that funk

Ow, we want the funk
Give up the funk
Ow, we need the funk
(Let us in, we’ll tear this mother out)
We gotta have that funk
Ow, we want the funk
Give up the funk
Ow, we need the funk
(Let us in, we’ll tear this mother out)
We gotta have that funk

We want the funk
Give up the funk
We need the funk
We gotta have that funk
We want the funk
Give up the funk
We need the funk
We gotta have that funk
We want the funk
Give up the funk
We need the funk
We gotta have that funk

(You’ve got a real type of thing going down, gettin’ down)
(There’s a whole lot of rhythm going round)
You’ve got a real type of thing going down, gettin’ down
There’s a whole lot of rhythm going round
You’ve got a real type of thing going down, gettin’ down
There’s a whole lot of rhythm going round

Ow, we want the funk
Give up the funk
Ow, we need the funk
(Let us in we’ll tear this mother out)

Kolchak: The Night Stalker – The Energy Eater

December 13, 1974 Season 1 Episode 10

If you want to see where we are…HERE is a list of the episodes.

Episode 10 is the halfway point! By the time “The Energy Eater” aired, Kolchak: The Night Stalker had already faced vampires, swamp monsters, and ancient spirits, but this one took a turn into urban mythology with a sci-fi twist. The setting is a newly built hospital in Chicago, plagued by strange power failures, mysterious deaths, and collapsing foundations. Kolchak, sensing something supernatural, soon discovers that the hospital was built on the site of an ancient Native American burial ground, never a good idea in 1970s horror or in real life, for that matter.

This episode is not as good as the previous episode, The Spanish Moss Murders, or the next superb one, Horror in the Heights, but it offers something different. What makes this episode different is that for the first and last time, Kolchak has a real team behind him. He has not one but two sidekicks in this episode. It was nice to see Kolchak get support instead of just being thrown out of meetings by the police.

One was a tough but helpful construction boss and Native American shaman Jim Elkhorn (a marvelously warm and engaging performance by  B-movie William Smith), who assists Kolchak in combating a powerful ancient Native American spirit called the Matchemonedo (This creature is based on a spirit from Potawatomi lore) that’s terrorizing a newly opened hospital built over its resting place. The other was Nurse Janis Eisen (the beautiful Elaine Giftos, whom I remember from Barney Miller). Both are quality characters, and you can sense their camaraderie.

It’s creepy, clever, and grounded in the struggle between progress and the past. Just another night in Chicago for the reporter who always finds trouble that no one will believe. He’s the only reporter who can connect Indian folklore, power surges, and modern construction mishaps into one believable headline, if only anyone believed him. One scene I really liked is when Kolcahk mentions Matchemonedo to his boss. He was smart enough this time not to explain this because Tony would never believe it. Instead, he said that Matchemondo was a Cuban fighter.

Next week’s episode is below this video!

For Next Week’s Episode...here is the link.

BoDeans – When the Love Is Goob (I Mean Good)

I like this band and most of the songs I’ve heard from them. They had a few hits, but for the most part, they were huge on college radio and unfortunately didn’t hit the masses like they should have. This song is fantastic, and the title is brilliant to me. Many musicians have come from Wisconsin. There is Steve Miller, Al Jarreau, Steve Miller, Les Paul, Violent Femmes, Liberace, The BoDeans, and many more.

In 1977, Sophomores Sam Llanas and Kurt Neumann met in a study hall at Waukesha South High School in Wisconsin and bonded over a shared love of music. The two later end up playing music together. In 1980, at Neumann’s urging, Llanas dropped out of college to pursue music full-time. The group pursues gigs at small bars, clubs, dances, and events. Llanas comes up with the name, Da BoDeans. Llanas and Neumann added drummer Guy Hoffman (Oil Tasters, Confidentials, later the Violent Femmes) and bass player Bob Griffin (The Agents) to fill out their sound in 1983.

By the time the BoDeans released the album Home in 1989, they had already carved out their niche as Midwest roots artists, but this album pushed them further into pop-rock territory without losing their rootsy identity. The title is a great play on words, but the song plays it straight. Jangly electric guitars wrapped around acoustic strumming, a steady backbeat, and those harmonies between Kurt Neumann and Sam Llanas.

Jim Scott produced the album. They met him in 1987, producing Robbie Robertson’s self-titled solo album. The BoDeans added some backup vocals to it, including the songs Somewhere Down the Crazy River and Showdown at Big Sky. If you are exploring Home, this track is a rewarding stop, a small reminder that even when love gets messy, misspelled, or just plain “goob,” it can still turn out pretty good.

The album peaked at #94 on the Billboard Album Charts in 1989.

Neumann: The second record, you have all of this critical acclaim but the record company wants to get you on the radio, which is a whole ‘nother ballgame, and Jerry Harrison was from our hometown of Milwaukee. We worked with Jim Scott [on the third album], another really fun record. 

Neumann: “There’s an installation about Midwestern rock bands and we’re one of those bands that are in the installation. As a band, music artist, whatever, it’s flattering that you’d ever get anything in the Hall of Fame. You go there and you look at Jimi Hendrix, Rolling Stones and all this stuff, and you’re like, ‘Wow, somebody heard my music and put a guitar of mine and some lyrics up as well?’ That’s quite a big compliment.”

When the Love Is Goob (I Mean Good)

Well, I work for the money but it takes my pride
It takes everything that I got down inside
Takes half a life just to break even
And it takes half my money just to have my fun
And I get so tired of love on the phone
I’m standin’ here when I should be at home
And the longest nights when I’m far away
You listen, pretty baby, to the words I say
“Hey lady, yes I can do anything, wanna be your man
Hey lady, yes I could do anything when the love is good.”
No tears will fall from this angel’s eyes
We’ll hold promises where the love never dies
Old memories, well, I ain’t got none
‘cuz soft, sweet angel, now, you’re the one
Well, I guess I’ll go find my way, get down on my knees and pray
All this talk ’bout love someday, when, baby, I’m just givin’ it away
Now, no tears gonna fall, no one’s gonna cry
We’ll hole up in heaven, let the world go by
Longest nights when I’m far away
You listen, pretty baby, to the words I say

…

Link Wray – Link Wray …album review

I was really taken aback when I saw this album. I played it, expecting an instrumental, and when I heard a voice, I thought it was a different singer. When I think of Link Wray, I think of Rumble and instrumentals like that. I was surprised when I found this roots album by him, recorded in 1971. I want to thank Lisa for posting something that made me think of this rare Link Wray album.

After serving in the military, Wray contracted tuberculosis and lost a lung, which made singing difficult, and doctors advised him against it. Because of his breathing difficulties, Wray began to focus more on expressive and experimental guitar playing, leading him to become known for his instrumental hits. Wray was a Native American of Shawnee descent. He grew up in North Carolina. Wray later honored his heritage in his music, with songs like Apache and Comanche.

This album was recorded in a converted chicken shack. His brother, Ray Vermon Wray, helped produce it along with Bob Feldman and Steve Verroca. Instead of power chords and a leather jacket, Link traded distortion for Americana, funk, gospel, and storytelling. It was earthy, roots-driven, and deeply personal, almost a different artist altogether from the one I thought I knew. After being freed from label pressures, Link finally made the music he grew up with: gospel from church revivals, Native American rhythms from family heritage, country blues, and Southern soul.

There were still guitars, but now they sat behind the songs instead of smashing through them. Tracks like Fire and Brimstone, Juke Box Mama, and Ice People feel like they were born out of the dirt. The grooves are loose, almost like field recordings. His voice, rarely heard on record before this, carries a soulful and weathered sound. He didn’t sound like a rock guitarist trying to sing; he sounded like a weathered preacher who happened to play guitar.

You hear old-time country on Take Me Home Jesus, boogie on God Out West, and Native rhythms driving Black River Swamp. No other rock guitarist of his generation made anything remotely like this. Only one song retains his old tone, and that’s the intro to Tail Dragger. If anything, it pointed the way decades later for artists like Los Lobos and the entire alt-country movement. If you want to hear some authentic Americana, listen to this album.

Polydor gave the album a shot, but the public wanted Link the guitar guy, not Link the backwoods Americana prophet. Sales were modest, and critics were divided. However, like many records that were too authentic for their time, it grew in legend over time. Today, many fans call the 1971 album his true masterpiece

Black River Swamp

I was born down in the countryDown where the cotton growsTurnin’ off the main highwayGoin’ down that country road

There’s a place down in the countryWhere the pine trees grow so tallWalk across that old log bridgeStretching ‘cross Black River Swamp

I can hear them bullfrogs croakingIn the blackness of the nightCalling me back to my childhoodDown here in Black River Swamp

Saw my name carved on a big oak treeDown there by the fishing holeAnd the smell of old Black RiverWhere the waters are deep and cold

I can hear the hound dogs howlin’Chasin’ that old fox where I used to roamDown there in the countryCallin’ me to Black River Swamp

I can hear them hound dogs howlin’Chasin’ that old fox where I used to roamDown there in the countryCallin’ me to Black River Swamp

I was born in the countryDown where the cotton growsTurnin’ off the main highwayGoin’ down that country road

There’s a place down in the countryWhere the pine trees grow so tallGo across that log bridgeStretching ‘cross Black River Swamp

Rank and File – Amanda Ruth

I first heard this song by the Everly Brothers in their comeback in the 1980s. It fit their style perfectly. I had assumed they wrote it, but I recently found out that Chip and Tony Kinman wrote it for their band, Rank and File. Two Brothers who started a punk band and then moved to Austin, where they transitioned to country-punk. Another performer who was a member of this band at one time was Alejandro Escovedo.

Rank and File were one of those bands that always felt born a decade too early. When most early 1980s acts were into synths, drum machines, and big production, the Kinman brothers were rewiring country music with punk and some power pop.

Chip and Tony Kinman first made music in the late 1970s with The Dils, a sharp-edged California punk band known for political lyrics, ragged guitars, and a take-no-prisoners attitude. When The Dils ran their course, the Kinmans stepped back and started exploring American roots music. They headed toward warmer tones and harmony.

In 1981, the brothers moved from California to Austin, Texas, a shift that changed everything. Austin was the hub of outlaw country, rockabilly revival, blues bars, and indie experimentation.  The perfect place for musicians who did not fit neatly into one box. They found guitarist Alejandro Escovedo, fresh out of The Nuns, another West Coast punk band. The three of them shared a love for classic country songwriting like Hank Williams, The Burrito Brothers, and the raw honesty of punk.

The band officially formed as Rank and File, a name that reflected their working-class roots and their desire to keep things grounded. They blended Telecaster twang, tight harmonies, and a pinch of punk to keep them honest.

What I love about this song is how free it feels. Listening to it today, you can hear the origins of what would become Uncle Tupelo, The Jayhawks, Old 97s, and the whole alt-country wave that swept in during the 90s. Rank and File never got the widespread attention they deserved, but Amanda Ruth remains a cool little gem.

This song was on their debut album Sundown, released in 1982.

Tony Kinman – “We’re brave, we’re not afraid to do stuff, most people are. They’re deathly afraid to do anything different. … [W]hen everybody else was talking about how stupid country music was, country music was the last thing to like, if you wore a cowboy hat you were a redneck, you know, we decided go say, ‘Yeah, we play country music, it’s fun.’

“Up in San Francisco, KUSF Wave, their magazine, did the first review Rank and File ever got, live review. They said we sucked, and then they said, ‘What are these guys trying to do, start a trend?’ Well, that’s the way it worked out, but only because we were brave enough and smart enough to do it first. That’s how you get to be influential—if you’re brave enough to do something different and you’re smart enough to do it right. Otherwise you’re just another dumb-ass band.”

Amanda Ruth

Amanda, Amanda Ruth
Amanda, Amanda Ruth

We read the paper and we pick the show,
I’d meet her there but my watch was slow
She came early and I came late
We never met
It was a hell of a date

Amanda, Amanda Ruth
Amanda, Amanda Ruth

The way we met, she was a friend of a friend,
They needed money and I had it to lend
She had five; she wanted ten.
I gave her all my money
So I got none to spend

Amanda, Amanda Ruth
Amanda, Amanda Ruth
Amanda, Amanda Ruth
Amanda, Amanda Ruth
Amanda, Amanda Ruth

She burns her biscuits and her gravy is strange,
Can’t fry a chicken in a microwave range.
Her salt’s tasty, her sugar’s sweet
No she can’t cook
But she’s got something to eat

Amanda, Amanda Ruth
Amanda, Amanda Ruth
Amanda, Amanda Ruth
Amanda, Amanda Ruth
Amanda, Amanda Ruth

…

Arc Angels – Arc Angels …album review

I started to listen to this album on a recommendation, and I was totally impressed. I started off with one song, but the hell with that, I went on to the complete album. Great rock and roll band with killer riffs and tones. Also, being produced by an E Street Band member doesn’t hurt either! Steven Van Zandt produced this album, and that right there is huge. Also, on keyboards, you have the Small Faces and Faces keyboard player, Ian McLagan. McLagan helped out on this recording, and he sounds great. They walk the line between rock, hard rock, blues, and even throw some funk in there in places. Great musicians on this album, and there is a reason for that.

The band formed right after the death of Stevie Ray Vaughan. Drummer Chris Layton and bassist Tommy Shannon, the backbone of Double Trouble (SRV’s backing band), found themselves without a frontman after Stevie’s passing in 1990. Instead of leaving the stage, they teamed up with two Austin guitarist-vocalists: Doyle Bramhall II and Charlie Sexton. Both were young, rising Texas guitar players with deep musical pedigrees. The name “Arc Angels” referenced the Austin Rehearsal Complex. Although the album was born out of Stevie Ray’s backing band, it sounded different and moved ahead. 

The album was recorded in Austin and at Ardent Studios in Memphis (Big Star, The Replacements), and it blended blues, alt-rock edges, and soulful songwriting. Throughout the record, Layton and Shannon play like a unit that has lived many lifetimes together, heavy but never heavy-handed. They aren’t just holding down rhythm, they’re pushing the music forward. Doyle Bramhall II, Charlie Sexton, Chris Layton, and Shannon did most of the writing, along with help from Tonio K. 

The opening song is Living In A Dream, and it’s bold and in your face, as the rest of the album is. The second song is Paradise Cafe, which is probably my favorite off the album. That guitar is raunchy as hell, and I love it. They did include a song they wrote in memory of their friend Vaughan called See What Tomorrow Brings. The track Good Times has some cool funk and blues to it. If you have some time, check this album ou.t. I think you will like it. The critical reaction was good for this album, but it got lost in the grunge shuffle that was going on at the time, unfortunately. 

 For anyone who loves Texas blues with bite, this is a great place to start. 

Living In A Dream

If you were mineI’d give you all the worldIf you were mineI’d take you higher girlBut you got me waitingOoh, you’re so coldIt kills me timeOoh and time is all we needBut god knows I’ve tried, I’ve triedTo get you close to me

But tonight when my eyes are closingYou’ll be with me

Just let me beAnd let me believe, you’re mineCause there’s nothin’ wrong hereI’m just livin’Livin’ in a dream

Without a signYou brought me to my kneesWithout a sign,I crossed the lineI beg for sleep

But tonight when my eyes are closin’You will be with me

Just let me beAnd let me believe, you’re mineJust let me beAnd let me believe, you’re mineCause there’s nothin’ wrong hereI’m just livin’Livin’ in a dream

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Foghat – Slow Ride

This is a fun song to hear once in a while. This song was written by the group’s lead singer, David “Lonesome Dave” Peverett. Many air guitars have been played with this song. Peverett was different than most hard rock bands’ lead singers. He had a heavy blues influence that would show, and he was an excellent guitar player. This is arena rock at its finest. Listening to it as a kid, I had no idea what it meant, but it was so powerful with that guitar pumping out that rhythm.

This was released in 1975 on their album Fool for the City; it became Foghat’s signature song, the song that turned them from touring road warriors into FM radio staples. What has always fascinated me about Slow Ride is how something that simple, that groove-heavy, can hit so hard and stay so fresh nearly fifty years later.

Foghat was born out of the blues band Savoy Brown. Dave Peverett, the drummer, Roger Earl, and the bassist Tony Stevens quit that band and decided to form their own band in 1970. The band wanted to take the sound of Savoy Brown a step further and add a rock edge to its basic boogie blues.

I always liked their name, Foghat. It’s a name that sticks with you for better or worse. Foghat got their name when Peverett came up with the word while playing a Scrabble-like game with his brother. He convinced the band to go with it instead of Brandywine, and I have to agree with him. Some myths claim it is a slang term or that it meant something dirty, but the truth is simple: it was just a made-up word from Dave Peverett’s childhood.

Their bass player, Tony Stevens, quit and was replaced by their producer, Nick Jameson. Nick had played bass in his first band, so they asked him to join. They all jammed with each other for around 6 hours, and this song came out of it. Although it is credited to Peverett, it is said to be written by the entire band, with big contributions from Jameson.

This song peaked at #20 on the Billboard 100 and #14 in Canada in 1976. They were a British band that never had much success in the UK…but they did have a lot of success in America. The album peaked at #23 on the Billboard Album Charts and #85 in Canada in 1976.

Slow Ride

Woo!

Slow ride, take it easy
Slow ride, take it easy
Slow ride, take it easy
Slow ride, take it easy

I’m in the mood
The rhythm is right
Move to the music
We can roll all night

Oh slow ride
Oh slow ride, take it easy
Slow ride, take it easy

Slow down, go down, got to get your lovin’ one more time
Hold me, roll me, slow ridin’ woman you’re so fine

Woo

I’m in the mood
The rhythm is right
Move to the music
We can roll all night, yeah

Oh
Slow ride, take it easy
Slow ride, take it easy

Slow down, go down, got to get your lovin’ one more time
Hold me, roll me, slow ridin’ woman you’re so fine

Slow ride, easy, slow ride, sleazy
Slow ride, easy, slow ride, sleazy
Slow ride, sleazy

Kolchak: The Night Stalker – The Spanish Moss Murders

December 6, 1974 Season 1 Episode 9

If you want to see where we are…HERE is a list of the episodes.

This one begins with Kolchak looking the worst I’ve seen him. He had just gone through something terrible, and we were about to find out. This episode blends Cajun folklore and good old-fashioned monster mayhem into one of the show’s best stories. This episode includes another actor whom I have always liked. Keenan Wynn starred in a lot of movies and television shows and was a wonderful character actor. In this episode, he plays Police Chief Joe ‘Mad Dog’ Siska, who is trying to stay calm…not easy around Kolchak. Chicago must have gone through many Chiefs of Police!

This time, Kolchak investigates a series of strange murders where the victims are covered in Spanish moss, crushed, and drowned far from any water. The culprit? The Père Malfait, a swamp monster from legend, a Cajun bayou boogeyman conjured up by an innocent street musician in a sleep study that takes away the ability to dream. People connected to the sleep subject (Don Mantooth) in unrelated ways are chosen as victims, so Kolchak will have to first discover who (or better, what) is killing them and figure out how to stop it.

The Père Malfait monster was played by Richard Kiel, who also played the Diablero the previous week in Bad Medicine. Producers liked him so much in both roles, they asked him to be available for a second season of the show. This one is highly thought of by The Night Stalker fans. I sound like a broken record, but again, this episode is smartly written and acted. Many times, McGavin would rewrite the scripts if he didn’t like them, and that happened a lot. He got no credit for that. That is probably the reason that no clunkers exist in this series. It also could have contributed to him asking out of his contract at the end of the season.

Kolchak starts digging, and, naturally, finds strange things. Kolchak’s journey in this episode takes him from sleep labs to recording studios,  to morgues, to warehouses, snapping photos and ticking off cops the whole way. Watching Kolchak rant his way through bureaucracy and disbelief is golden. It’s folklore meets journalism, and in Kolchak’s world, that always makes for one hell of a story.

If you want to get ahead…here is NEXT WEEK’S Episode!

If you want to get ahead…here is NEXT WEEK’S Episode!

Charlie Rich – Midnight Blues

When I was growing up, I remember watching music shows from Nashville, and I saw this white haired man constantly. That white haired guy was Charlie Rich. I never knew much about his older music, but I am really getting into it.

After a stint in the Air Force, Rich started writing his own songs and playing around Memphis, the city that ended up shaping him more than anything else. Memphis in the 1950s was a blend of blues, country, gospel, and early rock and roll, and Rich fit right into the middle. He wasn’t a purist of any genre; he was a blender, and that would become his signature for the rest of his career.

His big break came when he walked into Sun Records, though it wasn’t exactly instant stardom. Sam Phillips didn’t quite know what to do with him because Rich didn’t fit the Sun mold. He wasn’t a raw rocker like Jerry Lee Lewis, and he wasn’t a rockabilly guy like Carl Perkins. He was smoother, jazzier, more complicated.

Before he became the “Silver Fox” singing Behind Closed Doors, he was a studio guy down in Memphis, searching for the sound that matched his style. Midnight Blues, recorded in 1960 for Sun, captures that in-between phase perfectly, smoky, late-night melancholy set to a subtle shuffle.

Some singers have a pain in their voice, such as Richard Manuel of the Band. Charlie Rich’s early Sun Records is like that as well. What always blows me away with Rich is that he could sound both heartbroken and confident at the same time. This song has a little bit of everything in it. He had one of those voices that could blend into anything, from country to soul, jazz, or blues.

He would go on to have nine country number ones in the 1970s. Lonely Weekends was his first US hit. It hit #27 on Cash Box in 1960.

Midnight Blues

Midnite, you know you’re doing me wrongMidnite, doing me wrongKeeping me up all night longAll night, all night longEverytime I feel a little bit freeI hear those blues, midnite bluesCommence to calling meMidnite, why don’t you leave me aloneLeave me, leave me aloneI’m trying my best to make a happy homeHappy, happy homeEverytime I feel a little bit freeI hear those blues, midnite bluesCommence to calling meI just can’t help to feel a little bit ashamedEverytime I hear you call my nameI’m blaming you for all the bad things I’ve doneBlame you for what I’ve doneStill I will admit that every once in a while it was fun

Yeah but midnite, don’t keep me running aroundDon’t keep running aroundI made up my mind, I’m gonna settle downAh ha, settle downEverytime I feel a little bit freeI hear those blues, midnite bluesBlues, midnite bluesI hear those blues, midnite bluesCommence to calling meThat blues is a calling meMidnite blues is a calling me

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Duane Eddy – Peter Gunn

I’ve always liked this song. It was originally by Henry Mancini for the Peter Gunn television show in 1958. I love instrumentals, and this is one of the best. I think the heyday of instrumentals was the fifties and sixties.

This (and many of his songs) was recorded in a Phoenix studio, which had an echo chamber that was originally a large water tank. A single speaker was placed at one end of the tank, the microphone at the other, and the guitar was piped in there. It’s hard to mimic that with a reverb stomp box.

Duane Eddy, the man who made a single twangy note sound like thunder rolling across the land. In 1959, he took Henry Mancini’s already cool Peter Gunn TV theme and turned it into something leaner and meaner. Backing him up was producer Lee Hazlewood, who knew how to turn an amplifier and that echo chamber into sonic gold. Together, they recorded this song in Phoenix, with a rhythm section that was tight and lean.

I like how Eddy arranged his songs. No big flashy solos or seeing how fast he could play, just that sound he had, never letting up. Duane Eddy laid the groundwork for surf music, spy soundtracks, and even hard rock. Everyone from The Ventures to George Harrison took notes from that tone.

The song peaked at #27 on the Billboard 100, #30 in Canada, and #6 in the UK in 1959 and 1960.

Brian Setzer – (The Legend Of) Johnny Kool

If I was gonna get movin’, now was the timeSo I packed up my bags and my Gretsch ’59

When I heard the Stray Cats in the early eighties, I thought I had it on the wrong station. It didn’t exactly fit in with Sheena Easton, Andy Gibb, Barry Manilow, or Dan Fogelberg. What I heard sounded like it came out of 1956, and I loved it. The echo, upright bass, and big Gretsch guitar were there. A 1950s revival had happened in the 1970s, and it started in the 80s with the Stray Cats, but the other rockabilly bands would not reach such high chart positions as they did. 

After the Stray Cats brought rockabilly back to radio, Setzer took a wild detour into big-band swing with the Brian Setzer Orchestra, proving that big pompadours and horn sections could coexist. This song is from his 1996 album Guitar Slinger. The song is about a rocker greaser who could out-race, out-play, and out-cool anyone in town.

Setzer has always been a guitarist storyteller, and here he channels every Gene Vincent, Eddie Cochran, and Link Wray riff he ever loved into one blast. The song kicks off with surfy reverb, blaring horns, and a beat that feels like a V8 engine coming to life (I just had to put a car reference there). Johnny Kool is the spirit of every hot-rod rebel who ever revved an engine down a road.

“The Legend Of Johnny Kool” might not have hit the charts, but it shows what makes Setzer special. He never plays rockabilly as a museum piece; he plays it like it’s still dangerous and fun…and it still is! 

(The Legend of) Johnny Kool

I had one cup of coffee and a cigaretteThen I rolled out of bed with my shirt soaking wetIf I was gonna get movin’, now was the timeSo I packed up my bags and my Gretsch ’59

It’s a hard life, loveBut when push comes to shoveIt’s the only life for Johnny, Johnny, Johnny KoolPlays his guitar and he sang like a foolDon’t let the big boys grind you down

Johnny, Johnny, Johnny KoolHe was a rebel that broke all the rulesEveryone can’t stop talkin’ aboutThe legend of Johnny Kool

It was darker than black, not a star in the skySo I revved on the engine and let that Mercury flyWith the wind blowin’ by at a 105I was trying like hell just to keep it alive

It’s a hard life, loveBut when push comes to shoveIt’s the only life for Johnny, Johnny, Johnny KoolPlayed his guitar and he sang like a foolDon’t let the big boys grind you down

Johnny, Johnny, Johnny KoolHe was a rebel that broke all the rulesEveryone can’t stop talkin’ aboutThe legend of Johnny Kool

Rumor had it now, this cat had it allHe was loud, he was wild, and he sure rocked the hallSome guy grabbed my arm and I jumped on the stageAnd I was rockin’ with a guy who was twice my age

It’s a tough life, loveBut when push comes to shoveIt’s the only life for Johnny, Johnny, Johnny KoolPlayed his guitar and he sang like a foolDon’t let the big boys grind you down

Johnny, Johnny, Johnny KoolHe was a rebel that broke all the rulesEveryone can’t stop talkin’ aboutThe legend of Johnny Kool

Johnny, Johnny, Johnny KoolHe’s a rebel, Johnny KoolHe’s a legend, Johnny KoolEverybody can’t stop talkin’ aboutThe legend of Johnny Kool

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Rising Sons – Candy Man

Just found this band. What a band, Ry Cooder and Taj Mahal in the same band. It doesn’t get much better than that. Some songs sound like they were born on the back porch, passed around from player to player, gathering different fingerprints and stories along the way. This is one of those songs. This is a traditional song arranged by the Rising Sons. 

The band formed around 1964 in Los Angeles, built on the partnership between two then unknown but soon to be legendary musicians, Taj Mahal and Ry Cooder. Taj had moved west from Massachusetts after studying agriculture and getting into the folk revival. Cooder was a teenage slide guitar prodigy growing up in Santa Monica who already had a reputation as the kid who could play anything with strings. They met in the LA clubs, places like the Ash Grove and Troubadour.

They quickly became a standout act on the LA scene. They were signed to Columbia Records in 1965, which tells you how much buzz they had, but the label didn’t really understand what to do with a group that wasn’t rock, wasn’t folk, and wasn’t blues, but somehow all three. Their album was shelved for decades. This is the same problem the Goose Creek Symphony had; the label didn’t know what box to put them in. 

The real joy of their Candy Man is how it captures a moment in time right before American roots music exploded. This was before the Byrds went country, and The Band were still the Hawks backing up Bob Dylan. This short-lived 1965 band was a great one, featuring a young Taj Mahal, an even younger Ry Cooder, and future Byrds drummer Kevin Kelley (later on), who replaced Ed Cassidy, Jesse Lee Kincaid on vocals and guitar, and Gary Marker on bass. The Rising Sons didn’t last long, but recordings like this show just how special that little window was.

They recorded an album, and it was produced by Terry Melcher. The album wasn’t released, but this single was. The album was finally released in 1992. It’s blues meeting folk with a bit of country rock in there. I was reminded in the comments that this version was based on the Reverend Gary Davis version. Thank you, halffastcyclingclub and purplegoatee2684b071ed. 

I wanted to include these slang words and definitions that were given.

Salty Dog – In blues songs, a “salty dog” is a slang term for a man, often an experienced sailor, who seeks a casual, non-committal sexual relationship. The phrase can also refer to a libidinous man more generally, or someone who is “salty” in the sense of being experienced, spicy, or unpredictable. 

Candy Man – In blues songs, a “Candy Man” is a term for a gigolo, ladies’ man, or dealer of drugs, often with a sexually suggestive connotation. While the literal interpretation is a seller of candy, the more common meaning in traditional blues songs refers to a charismatic and enticing man who sells a different kind of “sweet” product, like sexual favors or drugs. 

Gary Marker: “We were the problem; we had difficulties distilling our multiple musical agendas down to a product that would sell. We had no actual leader, no clear musical vision…. I think [Melcher] went out of his way to make us happy – within the scope of his knowledge. He tried just about everything he could, including the live, acoustic session that produced ‘2:10 Train.'”

Candy Man

Candy man, Candy man
Been and gone been and gone
Candy man, Candy man
Been and gone been and gone
Candy man, Candy man
Been and gone been and gone

Well, I wish I was down in New Orleans
Sitting on the candy stand
Candy gal through the candy stand
Oh yea, got stuck on the candy man
Candy gal through the candy stand
Oh yea, got stuck on the candy man
Candy gal through the candy stand
Oh yea, got stuck on the candy man

I love my candy gal
God knows I do
Little red light, little red light
Little green light, little green light
Little red light, little red light
Little green light, blue green light
Little red light, little red light
Little green light, little green light
The light’s stuck on red but when it goes to green don’t you mess with Mr. Inbetween

Went on down to the candy stand
Found my gal with the candy man
I went on down to the candy stand
Found my gal with the candy man
Took her hand from the candy man
I said I’d be her candy man now

I love my candy gal
God knows I do

Candy man Candy man
Salty dog, Salty dog
Candy man Candy man
Salty dog, Salty dog
Candy man Candy man
Salty dog, Salty dog

Well, I wish I was down in New Orleans
Sitting on the candy stand

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