In the early 2000s, the big story in rock and roll was that people were making rock and roll again. The boy bands and metal-hop that had been dominating the music scene gave way to a new strain of garage music. But despite the critical hoopla, few of these bands actually sold many records, and now the initial excitement over the Strokes, the Vines, the Hives et al. seems overheated. But one band was worth every superlative, with both their commercial success and sustainable creativity. The White Stripes, it seems, are the true saviors of rock in the new century.
In 1997, Detroit's Jack Gillis, an upholsterer by day and rocker by night, married bartender/novice drummer Meg White. Taking your wife's surname might seem strange, but one look at this guy, and you realize why it seemed appropriate. Meg, also pasty, has the body of a grown woman and the head of an 8-year-old girl. Together, they make an adorable pair, if you're Tim Burton.
Jack and Meg divorced in 2000, two years before their commercial breakthrough. For simplicity (though it really simplified nothing) Jack started telling people Meg was his sister, a fiction they continue to perpetuate. Jack insists the sibling myth is so people are more interested in the duo's music than their personal soap opera.
Their music is interesting despite any distractions. A punchy mutant baby of heavy metal, punk, blues and folk, the sound of the White Stripes is as distinctive as their tri-colored costumes. "Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground," "Seven Nation Army," and "Blue Orchid" are classics already, and there's reason to believe they have a few more in them. Jack even has enough energy for side projects (the Raconteurs, producing Loretta Lynn, film acting) and Meg's got sufficient indie hotness to work as a model.
Is it awkward being in a band with your ex? Probably, but not as awkward as being a Detroit upholsterer wearing a Nudie suit.
TODAY'S RECOMMENDATION: "The Air Near My Fingers" by the White Stripes
AVAILABLE ON: Elephant; iTunes
Friday, July 25, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
LOVE AND MARRIAGE: No Happiness, Please, We're British
What is it with chicks and guitarists? Yesterday's post (and tomorrow's, if you're dying to know, but why would you?) concern couples featuring a guitar pickin' man and his woman. Sadly, most of this week's spotlighted unions have ended in divorce. My, how quickly "Love and Marriage" week has turned sour. But that's how love often goes. We should just be thankful that their marital pain has given us such musical pleasure, and nobody did pain and pleasure better than Richard and Linda Thompson.
The Thompsons were England's answer to Carly Simon and James Taylor, except much artier, and they never did that godawful "Mockingbird" song. Instead, they did a lot of good ones. Smart move. Richard had been a founding member of English folk rockers the Fairport Convention, and had made a name for himself as a singer, songwriter, and guitarist. After he left the group, he married another folksinger named Linda Peters, and they started singing as a duo.
Though their marriage would only last a decade, Richard and Linda recorded a string of acclaimed albums blending elements of rock, American folk, and traditional Celtic music. Linda has the kind of voice you wish could sing you a lullaby every night before bed. Richard is the troubadour you hope one day might sing your life story. Together, they were a folkie's wet dream, singing heart-wrenching ballads with an authentic ache. It became even more authentic when Richard left Linda-- and their three children-- for another woman in 1983.
But you can see why they were initially attracted to each other. As Linda's most recent solo album, Versatile Heart, proves, she's no Yoko. Her writing and singing chime with wit and soul. Richard is a songwriter of great heart but also great intellect, and his impressive guitar work never fails to amaze. Like Paul Simon, his playing is more intricate than flashy, and it often takes multiple listens to hear just what he's up to.
The couple split right after the release of 1982's Shoot Out the Lights, their most successful work. Though they've both moved on to solo careers, their joint accomplishments haven't been forgotten, particularly in the form of their son, singer Teddy Thompson. Teddy was born on the Muslim commune Richard and Linda retreated to in the mid-1970s. Folksinging, Islamic communes; how can two people with this much in common not make it work?
TODAY'S RECOMMENDATION: "Wall of Death" by Richard and Linda Thompson
AVAILABLE ON: Shoot Out the Lights; iTunes
The Thompsons were England's answer to Carly Simon and James Taylor, except much artier, and they never did that godawful "Mockingbird" song. Instead, they did a lot of good ones. Smart move. Richard had been a founding member of English folk rockers the Fairport Convention, and had made a name for himself as a singer, songwriter, and guitarist. After he left the group, he married another folksinger named Linda Peters, and they started singing as a duo.
Though their marriage would only last a decade, Richard and Linda recorded a string of acclaimed albums blending elements of rock, American folk, and traditional Celtic music. Linda has the kind of voice you wish could sing you a lullaby every night before bed. Richard is the troubadour you hope one day might sing your life story. Together, they were a folkie's wet dream, singing heart-wrenching ballads with an authentic ache. It became even more authentic when Richard left Linda-- and their three children-- for another woman in 1983.
But you can see why they were initially attracted to each other. As Linda's most recent solo album, Versatile Heart, proves, she's no Yoko. Her writing and singing chime with wit and soul. Richard is a songwriter of great heart but also great intellect, and his impressive guitar work never fails to amaze. Like Paul Simon, his playing is more intricate than flashy, and it often takes multiple listens to hear just what he's up to.
The couple split right after the release of 1982's Shoot Out the Lights, their most successful work. Though they've both moved on to solo careers, their joint accomplishments haven't been forgotten, particularly in the form of their son, singer Teddy Thompson. Teddy was born on the Muslim commune Richard and Linda retreated to in the mid-1970s. Folksinging, Islamic communes; how can two people with this much in common not make it work?
TODAY'S RECOMMENDATION: "Wall of Death" by Richard and Linda Thompson
AVAILABLE ON: Shoot Out the Lights; iTunes
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
LOVE AND MARRIAGE: The Magician and His Lovely Assistant
Les Paul is best known for his eponymous guitar, manufactured by Gibson and beloved by axslingers everywhere. He should have one named after him: he is one of the inventors of the solid body electric guitar, which expanded the instrument's sonic potential and made rock and roll as we know it possible. Paul also invented multi-track recording and developed the close miking technique that forever changed the way singers approach studio recording. Les Paul, still with us at 93, is a sort of musical Nikola Tesla, a genius inventor with some hot licks to boot.
Paul's success as a recording artist, though, owed just as much to his partner than to his wizardry. Paul and his wife, singer Mary Ford, enjoyed huge success in the 1950s with their records, radio appearances, and television program. Ford, born Iris Hatfield, possessed a warm and soothing voice that countered Paul's frenetic noodling. The duo created one of the most unique sounds of the era by using Paul's multi-tracking technique years before it became commonplace in popular music. Les would overdub a complex web of guitar lines, while Mary sang her own harmony like a one-woman Andrews Sisters. It still doesn't sound quite like anything else.
Paul and Ford racked up sixteen top ten hits. They divorced in 1964, Mary dying thirteen years later from complications due to diabetes. Today, Paul still plays a weekly gig in New York, despite the fact he can barely use his right hand anymore. But arthritis can't take his name off those Gibson guitars, and it can't take away the huge impact he's made on the art of recording. And let's not forget the heavenly voice of Mary Ford, which has been silenced but not erased.
TODAY'S RECOMMENDATION: "The World is Waiting for the Sunrise" by Les Paul and Mary Ford
AVAILABLE ON: Best of the Capitol Masters; iTunes
Paul's success as a recording artist, though, owed just as much to his partner than to his wizardry. Paul and his wife, singer Mary Ford, enjoyed huge success in the 1950s with their records, radio appearances, and television program. Ford, born Iris Hatfield, possessed a warm and soothing voice that countered Paul's frenetic noodling. The duo created one of the most unique sounds of the era by using Paul's multi-tracking technique years before it became commonplace in popular music. Les would overdub a complex web of guitar lines, while Mary sang her own harmony like a one-woman Andrews Sisters. It still doesn't sound quite like anything else.
Paul and Ford racked up sixteen top ten hits. They divorced in 1964, Mary dying thirteen years later from complications due to diabetes. Today, Paul still plays a weekly gig in New York, despite the fact he can barely use his right hand anymore. But arthritis can't take his name off those Gibson guitars, and it can't take away the huge impact he's made on the art of recording. And let's not forget the heavenly voice of Mary Ford, which has been silenced but not erased.
TODAY'S RECOMMENDATION: "The World is Waiting for the Sunrise" by Les Paul and Mary Ford
AVAILABLE ON: Best of the Capitol Masters; iTunes
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
LOVE AND MARRIAGE: But the Wigs Were Her Idea
For those who found yesterday's entry a bit sappy, I'll offer this: sometimes the explosive energy that can create magic onstage can also make for disastrous relationships. Just because the music is pretty doesn't mean the feelings are. Ike and Tina Turner gave us the best example of a horrible marriage that resulted in great tunes.
When a music legend dies, there's a mad rush for canonization in the music press. But when Ike Turner peaced out last December, there was not even the slightest attempt to sugarcoat his 76 years of being an asshole. Tina Turner's representatives issued this terse statement: "Tina is aware that Ike passed away earlier today. She has not had any contact with him in 35 years. No further comment will be made." And none was.
Shame, though, that he had to go and act like that, because the man was a genius. A singer, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, bandleader and producer, he and Tina pioneered the soul revues of the 1960s. The man even co-invented rock and roll. In 1951, he and his band the Kings of Rhythm recorded the legendary "Rocket 88." The song, credited to Jackie Brenston but actually written by Turner, is often called the first rock and roll record ever made. It's an unusually hard-driving chunk of early r&b, complete with guitar distortion (the amp was damaged) and Ike's rockin' piano intro (later stolen and perfected by Little Richard.) Before he'd even met and renamed young Anna Mae Bullock, Ike Turner was a pioneer.
But meet her he did, and he liked what he heard. Tina Tuner was and remains one of the most stirring performers on earth, and with Ike as her bandleader, she always had the right material to tear into. From 1960 until 1976, Ike and Tina churned out the hits. "A Fool in Love," "River Deep, Mountain High" and their beloved, not so nice and easy take on "Proud Mary" made them one of the most popular acts in the country. It all fell apart when their marriage did, and Tina went on to enormous solo success.
Problem is, as much as I admire Tina's talents, she was never better than when she was with Ike. He may have been a terrible husband, but he understood her assets more than any slick pop producer ever would. Who else would have given her that red-hot arrangement of "Honky Tonk Women"? I think the only reason she stayed married to him as long as she did is because she knew how much of her success she really owed to the big jerk.
Did their violent supernova of a marriage make the music more intense, or did their personal flameout just deny us of more music to enjoy? I guess it's more productive to just forget the Angela Bassett/Laurence Fishburne reenactments and enjoy the sounds they made together. And I don't mean 911 calls.
TODAY'S RECOMMENDATION: "A Fool in Love" by Ike & Tina Turner
AVAILABLE ON: Proud Mary-The Best of Ike and Tina Turner; iTunes
When a music legend dies, there's a mad rush for canonization in the music press. But when Ike Turner peaced out last December, there was not even the slightest attempt to sugarcoat his 76 years of being an asshole. Tina Turner's representatives issued this terse statement: "Tina is aware that Ike passed away earlier today. She has not had any contact with him in 35 years. No further comment will be made." And none was.
Shame, though, that he had to go and act like that, because the man was a genius. A singer, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, bandleader and producer, he and Tina pioneered the soul revues of the 1960s. The man even co-invented rock and roll. In 1951, he and his band the Kings of Rhythm recorded the legendary "Rocket 88." The song, credited to Jackie Brenston but actually written by Turner, is often called the first rock and roll record ever made. It's an unusually hard-driving chunk of early r&b, complete with guitar distortion (the amp was damaged) and Ike's rockin' piano intro (later stolen and perfected by Little Richard.) Before he'd even met and renamed young Anna Mae Bullock, Ike Turner was a pioneer.
But meet her he did, and he liked what he heard. Tina Tuner was and remains one of the most stirring performers on earth, and with Ike as her bandleader, she always had the right material to tear into. From 1960 until 1976, Ike and Tina churned out the hits. "A Fool in Love," "River Deep, Mountain High" and their beloved, not so nice and easy take on "Proud Mary" made them one of the most popular acts in the country. It all fell apart when their marriage did, and Tina went on to enormous solo success.
Problem is, as much as I admire Tina's talents, she was never better than when she was with Ike. He may have been a terrible husband, but he understood her assets more than any slick pop producer ever would. Who else would have given her that red-hot arrangement of "Honky Tonk Women"? I think the only reason she stayed married to him as long as she did is because she knew how much of her success she really owed to the big jerk.
Did their violent supernova of a marriage make the music more intense, or did their personal flameout just deny us of more music to enjoy? I guess it's more productive to just forget the Angela Bassett/Laurence Fishburne reenactments and enjoy the sounds they made together. And I don't mean 911 calls.
TODAY'S RECOMMENDATION: "A Fool in Love" by Ike & Tina Turner
AVAILABLE ON: Proud Mary-The Best of Ike and Tina Turner; iTunes
Monday, July 21, 2008
LOVE AND MARRIAGE: Hipsters In Love
On KCRA 3 in Sacramento, Dave Walker and Lois Hart co-host the evening news. Offscreen, they're married, but you'd never know it from their awkward chemistry behind the anchor desk. They come off as one of those badly mismatched couples who stay together because it's the easy thing to do. Lois appears to be no stranger to the Botox needle, and I think Dave has a nip or two before most broadcasts. Why do I bring this up? Because being married doesn't necessarily mean you're going to be a potent creative team. This week's topic is betrothed singers who managed to make beautiful music together.
In 1997, Aimee Mann and Michael Penn were married. Michael is the singer of the 1989 hit "No Myth," which you probably thought was called "Someone to Dance With," like the rest of America. Aimee's old band, 'Til Tuesday, scored big in the '80s with "Voices Carry." They met while working on one of Aimee's acclaimed solo albums, and he was not frightened by her hair, and it was love at first sight.
Besides recording their own albums, both husband and wife are popular soundtrack contributors, thanks to Michael's film scoring work and Aimee's Oscar-nominated music from Magnolia. In 2001, they were invited to record a song for the film I Am Sam, starring Michael's brother Sean Penn.
I Am Sam is the story of a retarded man who at least has enough sense to like the Beatles. The soundtrack saw contemporary artists singing Beatles tunes. Aimee and Michael recorded a cover of "Two of Us," a smart selection from Let it Be. The song was one of the last Lennon/McCartney duets ever released, and one of the most undervalued.
When sung by John and Paul, "Two of Us" is a touching ode to friendship. "You and I have memories/Longer than the road that stretches out ahead," Paul sings, and considering the group's fragile unity at the time, it's easy to assume he was offering an olive branch to his increasingly distant childhood friend.
Aimee and Michael give it a different spin. In their hands, "Two of Us" isn't just about a pair of buddies, but lifelong companions enjoying each other's company in the simplest moments. Spending their lives together, Sunday driving, not arriving, on their way back home. Aimee has had other duet partners, and good ones. Elvis Costello, Jon Brion and Roger McGuinn have all backed her up. But with hubby Mike at the mike, there's a rare smile in her icy, sardonic voice. Michael has always been a solid singer, his voice like George Harrison's, only richer. But Aimee's is prettier, and she adds the needed touch of grace.
The Penn-Manns have duetted several other times, including a cover of Bruce Springsteen's "Reason to Believe" and Michael's own "Christmastime." But "Two of Us," in sound and sentiment, best expresses their wedded bliss. Dave and Lois could really learn something from these two.
TODAY'S RECOMMENDATION: "Two of Us" by Aimee Mann and Michael Penn
AVAILABLE ON: I Am Sam Soundtrack; iTunes
Besides recording their own albums, both husband and wife are popular soundtrack contributors, thanks to Michael's film scoring work and Aimee's Oscar-nominated music from Magnolia. In 2001, they were invited to record a song for the film I Am Sam, starring Michael's brother Sean Penn.
I Am Sam is the story of a retarded man who at least has enough sense to like the Beatles. The soundtrack saw contemporary artists singing Beatles tunes. Aimee and Michael recorded a cover of "Two of Us," a smart selection from Let it Be. The song was one of the last Lennon/McCartney duets ever released, and one of the most undervalued.
When sung by John and Paul, "Two of Us" is a touching ode to friendship. "You and I have memories/Longer than the road that stretches out ahead," Paul sings, and considering the group's fragile unity at the time, it's easy to assume he was offering an olive branch to his increasingly distant childhood friend.
Aimee and Michael give it a different spin. In their hands, "Two of Us" isn't just about a pair of buddies, but lifelong companions enjoying each other's company in the simplest moments. Spending their lives together, Sunday driving, not arriving, on their way back home. Aimee has had other duet partners, and good ones. Elvis Costello, Jon Brion and Roger McGuinn have all backed her up. But with hubby Mike at the mike, there's a rare smile in her icy, sardonic voice. Michael has always been a solid singer, his voice like George Harrison's, only richer. But Aimee's is prettier, and she adds the needed touch of grace.
The Penn-Manns have duetted several other times, including a cover of Bruce Springsteen's "Reason to Believe" and Michael's own "Christmastime." But "Two of Us," in sound and sentiment, best expresses their wedded bliss. Dave and Lois could really learn something from these two.
TODAY'S RECOMMENDATION: "Two of Us" by Aimee Mann and Michael Penn
AVAILABLE ON: I Am Sam Soundtrack; iTunes
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