Chuck Berry helped invent rock and roll, and nobody disputes this. If not for him, guitar solos as we know them might not exist. But Berry was also a gifted short story writer; songs like "The Promised Land" and "C'est La Vie (You Never Can Tell)" have a sharp narrative structure that translates well to the page.
My favorite is "Memphis." It covers the same ground as Jim Croce's "Operator" (and similarly titled songs by the Grateful Dead and the Band), but with a twist at the end. It's worth a read:
Long distance information, give me Memphis Tennessee
Help me find a party that tried to get in touch with me
She could not leave a number but I know who placed the call
'cause my uncle took a message and he wrote it on the wall
Help me, information, get in touch with my Marie
She's the only one who'd call me here from Memphis Tennessee
Her home is on the south side, high upon a ridge
Just a half a mile from the Mississippi bridge
Last time I saw Marie she was wavin' me goodbye
With "hurry-home" drops on her cheek that trickled from her eye
But we were pulled apart because her mom did not agree
And tore apart our happy home in Memphis Tennessee
Help me, information, more than that I cannot add
Only that I miss her and all the fun we had
Marie is only six years old, information please
Try to put me through to her in Memphis Tennessee
The "girl" Chuck's trying to get in touch with, whose mama doesn't approve, is actually his daughter. It's an unusually clever twist for an early rock song, and it showed the genre's lyrical potential beyond "Wop-bop-a-loo-mop alop-bam-boom." Then Berry went and blew it all with "My Ding-A-Ling." I guess great artists are unpredictable by nature.
TODAY'S RECOMMENDATION: "Memphis" by Chuck Berry
AVAILABLE ON: The Great Twenty-Eight
Friday, September 12, 2008
TELEPHONE SONGS: Raymond Carver's Got Nothing On This Guy
Thursday, September 11, 2008
TELEPHONE SONGS: Not-So-Silent Film
When I hear certain songs, my mind creates little movies to go with them. I'm sure a lot of people do this. Real music videos have made our imaginary ones redundant, though, by supplying the images for us. Older songs are better fodder for the Scorsese in all of us, but even they can be spoiled by very bad soundtrack choices. (Robert DeNiro's A Bronx Tale, which is a pretty good movie, has completely spoiled the Moody Blues for me. Rent it and find out why.) And whenever I finally see the video for a song I've been directing in my head for years, I'm always disappointed.
This happened recently with Electric Light Orchestra's "Calling America." The song is typical of late-era ELO, with its cheesy synths, corny lyrics and Jeff Lynne's famous multitracking tomfoolery. And I love it. It tells the story of a lover stranded across the pond, trying desperately to reach his girl in the States. The hook is huge, and so is the heart, and Jeff's sincerity shines through even the slick '80s pop sheen.
The video, though, is terrible. We see Jeff and two other bandmates performing in front of a hideous office building. We see shots of a mass transit train. We see a woman... walking around, for some reason. And there's some awful computer graphics of her head. Yeah. It's bad.
Here's what I always imagined: a disheveled man, wearing a suit and tie, at a pay phone. He looks frustrated. He can't get through. Soon, we see him sprinting (with the synthy beat) around London, trying but failing to catch trains, cabs, and buses. A couple more times, he stops to use a phone but gets no response. Soon, he runs into Heathrow airport, in a series of tinted Paul Thomas Anderson-esque wide shots. The camera smoothly tracks along as he runs through the terminal to buy his ticket. But he has no need, because she's there. That's why he couldn't get through: she has left America to be with him.
I'd like to know what songs turn on the filmmaker in you. If you're like some enterprising fans, you've already made your own videos, and there's no reason not to share. Okay, sometimes there is. But it can't be any worse than McG.
TODAY'S RECOMMENDATION: "Calling America" by Electric Light Orchestra
AVAILABLE ON: Balance of Power; iTunes
This happened recently with Electric Light Orchestra's "Calling America." The song is typical of late-era ELO, with its cheesy synths, corny lyrics and Jeff Lynne's famous multitracking tomfoolery. And I love it. It tells the story of a lover stranded across the pond, trying desperately to reach his girl in the States. The hook is huge, and so is the heart, and Jeff's sincerity shines through even the slick '80s pop sheen.
The video, though, is terrible. We see Jeff and two other bandmates performing in front of a hideous office building. We see shots of a mass transit train. We see a woman... walking around, for some reason. And there's some awful computer graphics of her head. Yeah. It's bad.
Here's what I always imagined: a disheveled man, wearing a suit and tie, at a pay phone. He looks frustrated. He can't get through. Soon, we see him sprinting (with the synthy beat) around London, trying but failing to catch trains, cabs, and buses. A couple more times, he stops to use a phone but gets no response. Soon, he runs into Heathrow airport, in a series of tinted Paul Thomas Anderson-esque wide shots. The camera smoothly tracks along as he runs through the terminal to buy his ticket. But he has no need, because she's there. That's why he couldn't get through: she has left America to be with him.
I'd like to know what songs turn on the filmmaker in you. If you're like some enterprising fans, you've already made your own videos, and there's no reason not to share. Okay, sometimes there is. But it can't be any worse than McG.
TODAY'S RECOMMENDATION: "Calling America" by Electric Light Orchestra
AVAILABLE ON: Balance of Power; iTunes
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
TELEPHONE SONGS: Your Mother Should Know
Who do you call when you're in need of advice? If you're lucky, you've got a mother you can always turn to for long-distance counsel. Chris Streng apparently does, or just wishes it so, because he wrote an 8-minute song about it for his band the Stratford 4.
The Stratford 4 are a band from San Francisco I stumbled onto while attending college there. A perpetually stoned dorm roommate recommended them to me, and I picked up their Love & Distortion CD on one of many trips to Amoeba Records on Haight street. Their name had me expecting something vaguely Shakespearean. Instead, I heard dense, sleepy psychedelia, with droning guitars and Streng's dispassionate vocals. The album's sometimes lugibrious pace took some getting used to, but from out of the fuzz and echo, some songs started to stick with me. "Telephone" is one of the best.
It's certainly the funniest. In it, Streng asks his mom just what the hell went wrong with his life. "When I was 22/I was a lot like you," she replies. After Chris rattles off the gloomy indie bands he's been indulging in, Mom has one last bit of sage counsel: "Don't forget Bob Dylan, and don't forget the Stones/And don't spend Saturday night all alone." Whether this is an accurate portrayal of Streng's mother or just a rock geek's fantasy is a matter of conjecture, but I can tell you that's some damn good advice.
TODAY'S RECOMMENDATION: "Telephone" by the Stratford 4
AVAILABLE ON: Love & Distortion
The Stratford 4 are a band from San Francisco I stumbled onto while attending college there. A perpetually stoned dorm roommate recommended them to me, and I picked up their Love & Distortion CD on one of many trips to Amoeba Records on Haight street. Their name had me expecting something vaguely Shakespearean. Instead, I heard dense, sleepy psychedelia, with droning guitars and Streng's dispassionate vocals. The album's sometimes lugibrious pace took some getting used to, but from out of the fuzz and echo, some songs started to stick with me. "Telephone" is one of the best.
It's certainly the funniest. In it, Streng asks his mom just what the hell went wrong with his life. "When I was 22/I was a lot like you," she replies. After Chris rattles off the gloomy indie bands he's been indulging in, Mom has one last bit of sage counsel: "Don't forget Bob Dylan, and don't forget the Stones/And don't spend Saturday night all alone." Whether this is an accurate portrayal of Streng's mother or just a rock geek's fantasy is a matter of conjecture, but I can tell you that's some damn good advice.
TODAY'S RECOMMENDATION: "Telephone" by the Stratford 4
AVAILABLE ON: Love & Distortion
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
TELEPHONE SONGS: The Last of the Great Moustaches
The singer/songwriter movement of the late '60s and '70s was surely a product of the folk music boom from several years earlier. But it's also helpful to remember that the baby boomers appearing on the music scene at the time were the first generation to grow up listening to rock and roll. If Joni Mitchell was such a touchy-feely folkie, what inspired her to write a funky rocker like"Raised on Robbery"? Before that, the Byrds ran a few volts of electricity through Pete Seeger. This fusion of coffeehouse navel-gazing and juke joint swing also explains the beguiling, timeless music of Jim Croce.
Croce, like Elvis Presley before him, was a singin' truckdriver who caught a break. After a few aborted attempts at a music career, Croce signed with ABC records in 1972. He died in a plane crash the following year, but not before recording classics like "Bad Bad Leroy Brown," "Time in a Bottle," and "Operator (That's Not the Way it Feels)".
It's the latter song that fits our topic this week. "Operator" is narrated by a guy who's lost his girl to his "best old ex friend," but who wants to call just to tell them he's no longer hurt (though he clearly is). He's presumably already told this story to the local bartender, who tired of it and sent the poor sap home. Basically, Jim Croce wrote the first great song about drunk-dialing. Imagine how hard it must have been back then, with the rotary phones. I can barely use one of those things sober.
Croce's often praised for his intricate acoustic guitar playing, though that was mostly the work of Maury Muehleisen. Muehleisen and Croce were a duo in all but name, with Maury's lead guitar propelling songs like "Rapid Roy (The Stock Car Boy)" and "Workin' at the Carwash Blues." Muehleisen's playing on "Operator" is especially fine. It's a good match for Croce's voice: tender, but strong, and not so pretty that you don't hear the hurt. Their partnership ended when both men died in the crash.
What would Croce be doing now if he had lived? Impossible to say. He might have escaped into a happy retirement like Bill Withers, or weathered the God-awful 1980s only to return strong in the '90s, like James Taylor. His music had the same warmth as theirs, and the same lack of depth that has kept critical praise at a distance. But you can't fake feelings that well, and Jim Croce clearly felt these songs. Spend some time with them, and you will too.
TODAY'S RECOMMENDATION: "Operator (That's Not the Way it Feels)" by Jim Croce
AVAILABLE ON: You Don't Mess Around with Jim; iTunes
Croce, like Elvis Presley before him, was a singin' truckdriver who caught a break. After a few aborted attempts at a music career, Croce signed with ABC records in 1972. He died in a plane crash the following year, but not before recording classics like "Bad Bad Leroy Brown," "Time in a Bottle," and "Operator (That's Not the Way it Feels)".
It's the latter song that fits our topic this week. "Operator" is narrated by a guy who's lost his girl to his "best old ex friend," but who wants to call just to tell them he's no longer hurt (though he clearly is). He's presumably already told this story to the local bartender, who tired of it and sent the poor sap home. Basically, Jim Croce wrote the first great song about drunk-dialing. Imagine how hard it must have been back then, with the rotary phones. I can barely use one of those things sober.
Croce's often praised for his intricate acoustic guitar playing, though that was mostly the work of Maury Muehleisen. Muehleisen and Croce were a duo in all but name, with Maury's lead guitar propelling songs like "Rapid Roy (The Stock Car Boy)" and "Workin' at the Carwash Blues." Muehleisen's playing on "Operator" is especially fine. It's a good match for Croce's voice: tender, but strong, and not so pretty that you don't hear the hurt. Their partnership ended when both men died in the crash.
What would Croce be doing now if he had lived? Impossible to say. He might have escaped into a happy retirement like Bill Withers, or weathered the God-awful 1980s only to return strong in the '90s, like James Taylor. His music had the same warmth as theirs, and the same lack of depth that has kept critical praise at a distance. But you can't fake feelings that well, and Jim Croce clearly felt these songs. Spend some time with them, and you will too.
TODAY'S RECOMMENDATION: "Operator (That's Not the Way it Feels)" by Jim Croce
AVAILABLE ON: You Don't Mess Around with Jim; iTunes
Monday, September 8, 2008
TELEPHONE SONGS: Son of a Son
Alexander Graham Bell's invention of the telephone in 1876 was a huge leap forward for passive-aggressiveness. The first words spoken over the device were to his assistant: "Mr. Watson, come here. I want to see you." Bell might as well have added, "If it's not too much trouble. You're only my assistant, for Christ's sake." Soon people were using the telephone to end relationships and spread rumors without having to look another person in the eye. The phone became such a staple of human communication it became a frequent topic for songwriters. This week we'll discuss some of the finest odes to telecommunication.
They say you have to pay your dues if you want to sing the blues, advice Son Seals took to heart. In his 62 years, Seals was shot, robbed, lost a leg to diabetes, and saw his home destroyed by fire. Seals was always well-regarded in the blues community, winning awards and the praise of his peers, but he never had that big commercial breakthrough. He died in 2004.
I have to admit, I only became familiar with Seals' music recently, and when I first heard him, I thought he was B.B. King. His stinging guitar and gritty, powerful voice may not have been entirely distinctive, but he was a gifted musician and songwriter. The son of a bluesman, also somehow nicknamed "Son," Son II started out as a drummer, even touring with Albert King. But as a guitarist and bandleader he could really strut his stuff.
"Telephone Angel" is the song that led me to Son Seals. In it, Son sings of the sheer delight of contacting a sweetheart via the telephone wires. It does what the best blues music can do, speaking universal truths with plainspoken eloquence, lacing familiar chord progressions with improvisational spice, and sounding both fresh and age-old. Released in 1976, it came a full century after Bell spoke his famous words to Watson. Seals didn't have orders to give, though, just joy to share.
TODAY'S RECOMMENDATION: "Telephone Song" by Son Seals
AVAILABLE ON: Midnight Son; iTunes
They say you have to pay your dues if you want to sing the blues, advice Son Seals took to heart. In his 62 years, Seals was shot, robbed, lost a leg to diabetes, and saw his home destroyed by fire. Seals was always well-regarded in the blues community, winning awards and the praise of his peers, but he never had that big commercial breakthrough. He died in 2004.
I have to admit, I only became familiar with Seals' music recently, and when I first heard him, I thought he was B.B. King. His stinging guitar and gritty, powerful voice may not have been entirely distinctive, but he was a gifted musician and songwriter. The son of a bluesman, also somehow nicknamed "Son," Son II started out as a drummer, even touring with Albert King. But as a guitarist and bandleader he could really strut his stuff.
"Telephone Angel" is the song that led me to Son Seals. In it, Son sings of the sheer delight of contacting a sweetheart via the telephone wires. It does what the best blues music can do, speaking universal truths with plainspoken eloquence, lacing familiar chord progressions with improvisational spice, and sounding both fresh and age-old. Released in 1976, it came a full century after Bell spoke his famous words to Watson. Seals didn't have orders to give, though, just joy to share.
TODAY'S RECOMMENDATION: "Telephone Song" by Son Seals
AVAILABLE ON: Midnight Son; iTunes
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