May 26, 2009 Earworm

Due to poor planning on my part, Tuesday is a three for one. The three up for comment have absolutely nothing to do with each other except that, in my mind, they all are linked to my father for one reason or another. Having spent ten days in close quarters with him, it's no wonder that they've been fresh in my mind.

First, the kind of repugnant "Hot Child In The City" by Nick Gilder, a record that was just beginning its 31(!) weeks on the chart as my eight year estrangement from my dad ended. Over a rather sparse, and quite nifty, arrangement, Gilder's lyrics were just empty enough to allow the listener to fill in the blanks of their own fantasy - the boys with the "slut" down the block, the girls searching for their own sexual identity - and to suggest that the author's own understanding of women was gained through Penthouse Forum and evenings observing from a lonely corner of a fern bar while breathing through his mouth. "Hot Child In The City" could have only been a number one record in the seventies, at a time when everyone was okay 'cause you were okay. Nowadays, Chris Hansen would be at the door once the demo cut. And, as we learn during the bridge, it would be not a moment too soon.

Second, the beautiful, if not deceptive, 1967's "Summer Rain" by Johnny Rivers which must have been left for dead by the Baltimore oldies stations on which I was raised because, prior to discovering a copy whilst bin diving in the 25 cent per copy pile in 1978 - just as "Hot Child In The City" was finally on the wane, I'd never heard it. Jim Hendrick's lyric suggests domestic bliss at it's finest on the surface but what's with the constant recollection of the summer that just ended? I've never seen any explanation from the songwriter or its singer but I've always felt that Johnny's quite surprised to find himself where he ended up and quite unsure of how he feels about it.

Third, the stupendous "Ball Of Fire" by Tommy James and The Shondells, their last top twenty hit, a fine way to close out 1969, and a tumultuous decade. It is here that Tommy's music began to incorporate his spiritual leanings as he pleads with the listener to look beyond everything that is slipping through their fingers to what is always with us. "Ball Of Fire" has been in my life for as long as I can remember but, perhaps due to the crumbling second marriages of both my parents, it became a particular source of comfort during 1978 and my longing for any sense of normalcy. It would also jump back into my heavy rotation starting September 11, 2001 when it showed up on an unmarked cassette tape found under my car seat that day, its second verse and the unfortunate timing sending shivers down my spine as I drove home to the safest place I could envision.

After writing all of this, I realize that all three of these records are, to me, about longing. Hmmmm... thanks for the session; how much do I owe you?

May 25, 2009 Earworm

I couldn't let the day go by without acknowledging Paul Weller's birthday. That's Entertainment.

May 22, 2009 Earworm

Holy Crap! Morrissey turned 50 today.
Even holier? Jerry Dammers turned 54.

Let's wish Moz an "Unhappy Birthday" and hope that Jerry celebrates all "Friday Night, Saturday Morning". But not together.

Have a great weekend.

May 21, 2009 Earworm

The hand wringing and cries of "Sell Out" that greeted Liz Phair's fourth album, you know, the one on the major label, were stupid enough - Matrix produced tracks and all - but when you factor in that precious "indie", Matador, had already rejected her first take on a third album, asking her to create some radio friendly songs for it, the whole notion of indie credibility becomes as transparent as the emperor's ensemble. The same holds true for the Gilman Street crew and its reaction to Green Day signing with Reprise in 1993 after giving the indie label of choice, Lookout, its biggest seller with "Kerplunk". While the slick production of Liz's self-titled Capitol album was a far cry from the lo-fi noise of her debut, a chronological review of her albums to date revealed a logical progression toward a cleaner sound and a more pop sound and when your album features a song called "HWC" (Hot White Cum, the accusations of selling one's soul to the Avril Lavigne set seem a bit off. As for Green Day, they never claimed to be anything other than three nimrods making pop punk records and the transition to "Dookie" from "Kerplunk" proved to be little more than a producer who knew what he was doing.

Liz's success with Capitol - a label that had, at one time, owned 49% of Matador, by the way - was short-lived. The fault may lie in the fact that she really didn't seem to take the whole thing seriously or with the outraged parents who found their kids singing along to the previously mentioned "HWC". If "Why Can't I" is her most lucrative pop moment, her best is "Supernova" from 94's "Whipsmart"; a girly love song from, and for, those who know better. Liz's fancy may have eyelashes that sparkle like gilded grass but she sounds more impressed by the fact that he's a flying, giant friction blast.

Green Day, of course, are on top of the charts this week with "21st Century Breakdown", selling over 200,000 copies in three days and without the support of Wal-Mart, the nations largest music seller, who refuse to stock any product that comes with a parental advisory label. When pressed for a clean version of the album, the band declined just as they had with their last two releases*, proving once again, that the band recognizes that no label should trump art. I can say I love this new album but I'll toss out the song that stopped me in my tracks in '92 - "No One Knows" from "Kerplunk" - because Billy Joe's wrestling with growing up the way in which one is expected hit a nerve back then and still does.

I throw both these tracks together for two reasons:
1) I've been away for a while
2) I discovered both of these acts in the best way; from a bunch of music loving employees in a real record store. Bite me, Wal-Mart.


*Their previous albums somehow having avoided the P.A. warning

May 06, 2009 Earworm

After Baltimore's own, Here Today, were dropped by Columbia after one single, they changed their name to Vigil, signed with Chrysalis, and released the twelve inch single, "I Am Waiting". For those of us who loved Here Today, we waited to see them take off, figuring that if Kix could find a national audience, anything could happen. The idea of Jo Connor slithering across the MTV generation left me breathless but it was not to be. Their self-titled album sold enough copies to warrant the recording of a second album but, for some reason, the label decided not to release it and, other than one track being featured in the (on-screen) soundtrack to "A Nightmare On Elm Street 4", the tapes have been gathering dust in a vault and the fans who hold memories of the band dear are still waiting.

I can never hear either incarnation of the band without thinking of Bobby C. and today was his birthday so, "I Am Waiting" it is.

May 05, 2009 Earworm

I'm not saying that the Violent Femmes nicked something from Round Robin's "Kick That Little Foot Sally Ann" for "Blister In The Sun", I'm just saying that it is impossible for me to hear one without thinking of the other. However, I am saying that P.F. Sloan and Steve Barri definitely nicked something from Calypso via Belafonte when they cooked up "Kick That Little Foot Sally Ann" to feed L.A.'s Slauson jones.

Regardless, "Blister In The Sun" is a classic for a generation - and for analysis - and "Kick That Little Foot Sally Ann" is... well, catchy as hell and notable for it's Jack Nitzsche arrangement and for being a far cry from other Sloan/Barri songs.

Does anyone know how to do the Slauson?

May 04, 2009 Earworm

While critics of "A New Tide" fuss over what Gomez is or is not and should or should not be, I choose "Airstream Driver" as the Monday morning kick-off because dark storms while behind the wheel can be just that fun. And how about that Ant-like stick work...