June 04 & 05, 2009 Earworm

Two quintessential California blonds celebrated a birthday yesterday and today: Michelle Phillips of The Mamas and The Papas and Terri Nunn of Berlin. Michelle is now the only surviving member of her group and Terri is now the only of the group that made her famous, although she was not a founding member. Both are also beautiful and, in their time, were often appreciated more for that - and they're romantic or sexual exploits - than for there voices.

"Creeque Alley" is the much loved story of the paths that led to The Mama's and The Papa's own dreams coming true but even this celebration of the turmoil filled groups success has a sad twist: no one seems to know if that is Michelle on the record or Jill Gibson, girlfriend of producer Lou Adler and Michelle's replacement after being fired for her many "indiscretions". There have been many different accounts of the recordings made during that time with Michelle ultimately admitting that the only two people who know for sure are Adler and engineer Bones Howe.

"Sex (I'm A)" is Berlin's most discussed record, "The Metro" is probably the most loved by fans, and "Take My Breath Away" stands as their biggest and most commonly known song but "No More Words", from their second album, "Lovelife", is the record I played and danced to the most. Georgio Moroder's production and mixing skills are as busy as ever and all that percolating syncopation still leaves me craving a cup of coffee.

Both songs are best heard in the versions most difficult to find these days. The mono single mix of "Creeque Alley" has a more ad-hoc feel to it, suggesting an intimate live setting that best fits the material and a triumph repeat of "Becoming a reality" that is missing from the stereo mix. The twelve inch remix of "No More Words" adds more bubbles for your dance floor pleasure and, even after all these years, still brings the smell of poppers to my mind.

Happy birthday, ladies, and a have a great weekend.

June 03, 2009 Earworm

I was minding my own musical business when I happened to notice that Susan had posted a "video" of Dee Clark's "Raindrops" on Facebook and now I have it on endless repeat. I'm happy to note that Dee's testicle shrinking shrieking on the fade out still rattles me as much as it did when I was a wee one.

The production by Vee-Jay house wunderkind, Calvin Carter, was slicker than anything the label had yet released, and was awarded with their first appearance on the adult contemporary charts for it. For all its sophistication and sheen, it's that twangin' guitar, later used to great effect for Jerry Butler's "Moon River", getting along quite nicely with a strange arrangement that ranges from the subtle and cinematic to the buoyant and down right silly, that makes "Raindrops" as endlessly memorable as it is.

"Raindrops" peaked at #2 in 1961, held back from the top spot by Gary US Bonds' "Quarter To Three", a record that couldn't have been more different but what could have been a cure for what ailed Dee. It was Vee-Jay's biggest top 40 hit to date but dubious royalty was about to take the label all the way.

Susan, I hope you cheer up and dry out soon. And let us know if you need a lifeboat.

June 02, 2009 Earworm

After leaving "Yellow House", The Beach Boys and Steely Dan jumped aboard Jefferson Airplane for a very special trip with a stop-over at Graceland; Paul Simon's, not Elvis Presley's. This is just one way to describe Grizzly Bear's latest album, "Veckatimest", but you'll have to throw in more reverb and some obligatory Spectorisms to get to "Cheerleader" which, for today at least, is my favorite track.

I'll go ahead and call the whole thing enchanting and intriguing because it is and because don't want to harsh anyone's mellow. What concerns me is this feeling I've had lately that our indie spiritual guides are drifting a bit too close to the edge of Yes and the other prog rock dinosaurs we once despised for their over elaborated concepts. With "Veckatimest", it's clear that the grasp of this issue for some of our most recently celebrated bands is fragile.

June 01, 2009 Earworm

I am so impressed with Mandy Moore's "Amanda Leigh" album that I can't spotlight just one track, so I'll present the 70's AM gold that is the first single, "I Can Break Your Heart Any Day Of The Week" and "Fern Dell", a song that I'm having such a hard time getting my head around that I can only say "Simon & Garfunkel and Nilsson on Broadway" and know that I'm not even close to nailing down what I'm hearing. "Amanda Leigh" brings proof that the further Mandy Moore drifts from the mainstream, brighter burns the fire that allowed her to noticeably melt the edges of even the worst cheese her career endured. The guidance of producer and main co-writer Mike Viola (Candy Butchers) allows her to come up from under the gloss and dross of her Epic albums, the heavy hand that often hampered the heaviness of "Wild Hope", and, most importantly, lets the songs leave their mark without stating that they are making a statement.

The most impressive thing about "Amanda Leigh" is not that it is impressive for a Mandy Moore album. It's simply impressive: no caveat is necessary. That's not to say there isn't room for growth but the leaps that have been taken suggest that there is bound to be more.

Now, what's up with the video?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nsCr9TJ84EE

May 31, 2009 Earworm

Since a morning coffee date on Friday lasted until it was time for another date for dinner, and with a wish to get these two records that I've had running around in my head for weeks now posted, it's time for a special Sunday edition of the earworm. This works out just fine since one of the records, "You Won't Even Know Her Name", is by a girl/woman calling herself Josephine Sunday. Little is known of Ms. Sunday beyond the fact that she hailed from Washington D.C., her real last name was Visaya, and that her father was born in the Phillipines. All that information, and that she performed the song on American Bandstand in 1965 looking like a lost Ronette, are culled from the liner notes of RPM's excellent compilation, "Girls Go Zonk".

The Ronettes look is quite appropriate in that "You Won't Even Know Her Name" is one of the better Spector homages. It's short and sweet, catchy as hell, and as a cute as a button. It's also an early Mike Curb production, well before he unleashed the likes of "You Light Up My Life" and Debbie Boone upon us, so we'll considerate it as antidote to that horror. Josephine's known discography contains only two other singles while Mike Curb's goes on for years and years proving that life is not always kind.

"The Homecoming Queen's Got A Gun" by Julie Brown is a pastiche of a homage and hysterical in a way that would never fly in these post-Columbine days. Pulled from her 1984 Rhino e.p., "Goddess In Progress", and showcased in a cheap and cheesy video, it found in a home in the gay clubs where Julie had first found an audience and eventually made its way to MTV. References to this silliness are still quoted in certain circles, many that still surprise me, long after Ms. Brown's shtick wore out its welcome.

Julie followed up the success of "The Homecoming Queen's Got A Gun" with a full length LP called "Trapped In The Body Of A White Gilrl" which only proved that brevity served her well. To her credit, her 1992 satire of Madonna's "Truth Or Dare", called "Medusa: Dare To Be Truthful", is one of the funniest things I've ever seen.

Okay, I've shaken May out of the way. Now we can move on to new old things and the many many new new things that have blowing my mind. And, in case you wondering, I did it for Johnny...