Requests

Thanks to everyone for their feedback. I have gotten some good requests, many of which I already had on my short list. So look for future versions of, among other things, Slip Slidin' Away (I have played this out at least once), Dreaming (BT has been doing this since 1987), He's Gone (oh no, the Grateful Dead!), and some others. I will look back.

The deal is not an auction for top bidder. You are an honest enough bunch that I will trust you to make a donation to a charity. I am leaning towards the Foundation to be Named Later, since I am already affiliated with it a bit and since they do such fine work. I will try to do it by next week, so that those of you who need one can have a tax deduction!

Great Soul Site

And an appropriate lost classic

Tears of Rage, Tears of Grief

My New Mid-Century Homes Page

On my real estate web page:

http://modernmass.com

I've just started to outline the history of Lexington MA's significant mid-century homes at the above page. This includes the Moon Hill and Five Fields neighborhoods, both started by The Architects Collaborative, and Peacock Farm, designed and developed by Walter Pierce and Danforth Compton. Techbuilt, Carl Koch, Gropius, and other subjects are covered as well. Includes photos. In the near future, I will link to articles and scans with some history.

The Road - Little Bits of Haiku for the Apocalypse

I'm a little late to this book. It sat there in my pile of things to read, CDs listen to, bills to pay, songs to finish, laundry to fold...meanwhile I find 15 minutes to slap up blog posts. I did not come to this book as a huge fan of Cormac McCarthy, though I feel this might change a bit. I've only read 1 or 2 other books and I am aware that this is a departure from earlier work.

But I'm glad I waited. This book hit me at just the right time, it seems. I'm not 100% certain of what I mean by that; maybe any time I chose to read it would have felt like the right time. But this book spoke to me on a fundamental level and has heightened certain essential components of my consciousness.

I read it last week in a matter of a night or two. The last thing I expected was a page-turner. But I gather this is the reaction of many people who have read it. It compels readers for various reasons, some feeling that they are even responsible for helping the characters along, which is a notion that is both absurd and deeply true of any book. Like the tree that falls in the forest, e.g. I don't let myself get overexposed to reviews and criticism of books or movies. I don't want a story spoiled in advance, but more importantly, I don't my own perception clouded by judgments made by others. After forming my own opinion, I seek out those same reviews, at least in channels I trust. I want to compare notes.

I am being elliptical. I think all of this preface is just me avoiding the real topic, that is how profoundly moving I found The Road. Certainly being a father has a lot to do with my extreme reaction. But I have not shaken the effects of having read this now 4 days after the fact. But more significantly is that I don't think I will ever forget it. I think the emotions will become less acute, but the overarching theme, the poetry of the prose, the philosophy behind the story, the allegories and the story itself...

I am torn between re-reading it immediately and trying to move on. Seriously. It was a physical involvement, reading it. I don't know that I can recommend it to everyone who reads this site. I guess I'm more eager to hear from others who have read it.

Nina

RIP, Mitch

Mitch Mitchell, July 9, 1947 – November 12, 2008

Further on the Faces

Faces reunion?

Well, the link is dead, but the Faces are reuniting for a tour.

Will I Still See Suspicion in Your Eyes?

And how about an oldie from one of my favorite records:

'Cause the high heel he used to be has been ground down
And he listens for the footsteps that would follow him around

Throw The Bums Out!

Warning to those who don't like to mix politics in with the music, skip this post and move on to the next.

538

Propaganda!!


Obituary and More Propaganda!! Viva La Revolucion!

Appreciating Kenney Jones

I just plugged in, "Kenney Jones underrated" in Google. I only came up with a few posts on message boards, his name listed in one or two posts, next to posts about guys in Spyro Gyra and metal bands, drummers using mallets, double kick drums, etc.

I've been listening a lot to the Small Faces and the Faces over the past few years, growing up with the latter but only really getting deeper into the former in the past decade. And Kenney's drumming is stunning -- ranging from what might be called power soul, likely what gave the Who the idea for the tagline, "Maximum R&B," to a more restrained approach, which is a typical arc for a maturing musician. The Small Faces had a much higher R&B quotient than the Who, who were more "maximum" than "R&B" in their approach. There's a straight line from the early Small Faces to Led Zeppelin's hard blues (to the extent that Zep -- as they did with the work from so many other artists -- actually lifted Small Faces bits wholesale.) And the relationships between all of those bands in '60s London was closely intertwined, with shared labels, managers, clubs, and side musicians. Their fellow early mods, the Who clearly admired their brethren in the Small Faces, as Keith Moon in his hardest partying days, when he perhaps glimpsed his end, speculated on a hand-picked successor, none other than Kenny Jones. And of course, this is the very drummer they picked after Moon's death.

"Ogden's Nut Gone Flake"



From the Small Faces’ earliest singles like "What'cha Gonna Do About It" to their more experimental psychedelic-era opus LP Ogden's Nut Gone Flake, Jones' power and control were on display. This is the style of drumming that would have made him a musical fit for the Who. But he later settled into a more finessed, restrained style that would have come from some of his R&B heroes like Al Jackson of the MGs and all of those Stax recordings, the same southern “in the pocket” groove that Charlie Watts concentrated on in his transition from a jazz drummer to his role in the Rolling Stones. It is this style that can be heard in its austere extreme on Faces tracks like "Tell Everyone" and the artful drum track on "Love Lives Here." It is not merely the simplicity; it is the musicality of the drums, the groove and the space, the way Jones locks in with the bassist Ronnie Lane. When he does augment the basic backbeat, it is with tastefully placed fills consisting simple snare rolls and one or two rack tom hits. This is the sort of groove-centric style he employs on songs like "Debris" and "Ooh La La." On the latter, most of the track is backed by tension-building percussion and whole-note kicks. When Jones backs the tack-piano solo, he adds a cross-stick snare drum (stick placed on the drum head and clicked lightly on the rim).

"Tell Everyone"



"Love Lives Here"




Even when the Faces went all out and raved it up, as with their biggest hit "Stay With Me," Jones' is just laying it in there simply, with an improbable 16th-note high hat pattern (presaging disco), not some huge-ass reverberating, brutal multi-drum fills a la Jason Bonham or Keith Moon (not a man known for his finesse with the high hat). When Jones really lets go on "Stay With Me," he merely loosens up the high hat to create more splash and adds a few rolls at the end of some bars. Even on the drum solo, he adds a few jazzy, Gene Krupa-like fills - no flaming gongs to be heard here. In fact, it is on this song as well as "Feel So Good" (live), the cover of "Maybe I'm Amazed," and other rave-ups, as the drumming gets a bit heavier handed, that Jones swings more than rocks. I mean, it is rocking and gets heavy, but it never loses that slinky swing. I love this style on other tracks like "Miss Judy's Farm" and the amazing cover of "I'm Losing You." Contrast this to his more Moon/Bonham-like approach on "Come on Children" from the Small Faces in 1965. The man comes out swinging, looking for a fight. The boogie is evident, but the fills are exhilaratingly chaotic and reckless, barely landing in place. Even covering his MGs backing Otis Redding, on "Shake" on the same record, Jones adds way more mid-verse fills.

Back when I was a teenager, playing in my first bands, we used to have endless arguments about with guitarist was the best -- Hendrix, Jeff Beck, Jimmy Page, Jerry Garcia, Townshend, Keith, Van Halen etc. And there were other such discussions about drummers. But those usually ended around Bonham, Moon, maybe Appice, Neil fuckin' Pert, and so on. I was usually in the minority of pip squeaks advocating for Keith, Charlie, even Ringo, of course. Those are more my guys, along with Levon Helm and musician's musicians like Dave Mattacks. Sure, I love and have always loved the more pyrotechnic Moon and Bonham and Hendrix and Page. But maybe it was because I have never been able to play very fast and/or complicated guitar parts, but I never really tried either. It was not my interest. I hated, HATED Rush, Van Halen and all those huge technically flashy acts. I wanted the guy that played the Harvest beat (Kenny Buttrey), or one who could lay down a clean, feel-good backbeat to play against. But Kenney Jones was the guy who replaced Keith Moon to me and millions more like me, then went on to do those two lame Who albums (yeah, "Eminence Front" was great, but "You Better You Bet???) Not Kenney's fault he joined that party too late, but my knowledge of the Small Faces and the Faces were only a bare minimum at age 13 and 14 -- a few songs on the radio or in the LP collections of the older brothers of friends.) My appreciation of him has become more intense as I get older and listen more and more closely.

Thanks and More

Firstly, my best wishes goes out to the family of Pat Leonard and the Moving Targets family. Pat was the original bassist of the seminal Boston band, the Moving Targets, who were an influence on Buffalo Tom. We learned today that he has recently passed away.

Kenny Chambers remembers his friend here:

RIP Pat Leonard

Thanks to all of you who came down to see my friends, brothers, and me enjoying ourselves down at Lizard Lounge in October, and previously at Toad. And a special thanks to the musicians who played with me, the band that was Tom Polce-less Crown Victoria, Matt Tahaney, Phil Aiken, and Billy Beard, and all the guests: Scott, Paul and Tom Janovitz, Sean Staples, Matt Pynn, Paul Ahlstrand, Tanya Donelly, Ruth Peterson, Mike Gent, Corin Ashley, Tom Perrotta, Joe Guese, anyone I missed?

Hope to get it going again some day. If you're having withdrawal and want to see some great live music at the Lizard Lounge, Session Americana plays every Tuesday. You will love it.

One Last Cup of Coffee

Hello my friends (in the voice of McCain),

My friends, the conceit I'm employing for the purposes of this email is the voice of an old senator from Arizona.

My friends, now is not the time to be ignoring proven rock and rollers like me. Now is not the time to jump so go see some young band with a myspace page and a self-released project down at Great Scott's. That band, they are very likely Socialists with a capital "S," sharing a stage, a van, a joint, and sharing God knows what or whom else (who or whom? I'm a plain speakin' sonfabitch, you know that. I don't trust "words" anyhow), pooling their money from CD sales to buy COMMUNAL breakfasts, palling around with radicals in Motel 8s.

No, my friends, we need a trusted rocker, a "Dad Rocker," one playing sturdy, proven classic rock songs, songs you know, even some "new wave" songs -- I'm open to some "new wave" songs -- good songs played by a proven artist, one who has reached across the musical aisle to shake the hands of and work with metallic dudes, hip hop kids, mean bouncers, sleazy record execs, dubious journalists, surly hotel managers, even jazzbos from Berklee. A rocker who can, yes, be considered a maverick. I've been called that. I am also not going to shrink away from my time as someone who has fought for this music, for the art, for your enjoyment. Yes, I watched as others less proven than I -- less deserving then I -- went on to stardom because they looked good on magazine covers with a good expensive haircut. But I'm a maverick. I never got that haircut, even when it was a proven way to stardom. And now I have a comb-over to hide my receding hairline. And, while I have chosen band members because of their looks over their lack of ability, Tom can still play drums very well. Sure, he won "Cute Drummer Alert" from Sassy magazine in the early '90s, but the fella also knew his stuff. He once was once embarrassed by that title, as I was with "maverick." But now, god knows he would love to have that title back. And, sure, that was the only month that magazine deviated from the usual "Cute Band Alert". They just could not find it in themselves to charitably extend that honor to the other 2/3 of the band. And that was when we were young, fresh-faced, etc. We had the world as our oyster, friends. We did not let it crush our spirit. No, we soldiered on. Good soldiers. Yes, we soldiered on for the good of the indie rock world. I don't want to say we sacrificed so you could listen in freedom. I do want to say it. But I will not.

Where was I, my friends? Ah yes...friends, I am here to ask for your vote, your vote of confidence. I need your support this Thursday, October 30, Halloween Eve. I need you to vote with your feet and your wallets. I need your presence at my last night at the Lizard Lounge. It could be the last note of music I ever play. I'm not saying it will be. But it might be. And if it is, you will only have yourself to blame for not being their to hear it. It might be a G sharp, which I rarely play. I have made a career of avoiding G sharp. But as the last note I ever play? Might be a G sharp.

But, my friends, I do not expect a G sharp to be the only reason you get off the comfy sofa-with-a-secret that you got for free in some Jordan's Furniture World Series promotion. No, my friends, I will have other reasons for you to come out. One is that none other than my longtime friend and political foe, Chris Colbourn has promised to be there to play a few numbers. Sassy drummer sadly can not make it that night. But we will do a Buffalo Tom song or two. Some covers. Etc.

And who else? What, Cobes is not enough? I know he is for you, my friends. But we will also have prodigal drummer back from Hollywood, Tom Polce, of Crown Victoria sitting in a song or two, Matt Pynn on pedal steel, Sean Staples on mandolin, and the proven lineup of experts and mavericks, Matty Tahaney on bass and vocals, Billy "three nights in a row, 5 weeks in a row" Beard on skins, and my longtime pal and supporter, Phillies Phil Aiken on the piano and organ. And, if we are all lucky, I will have the warm support of my family, always there behind me, friends. Last week saw the presence and contributions of 3 other Janovitz brothers and, with the mercy of the Lord, they will again be there to sing some songs.

My friends, don't let it all go to waste. You and I can get this music scene back on track.

Getting the Vinyl Out

Even in the full 1990s glory days of CDs, I clung to the old habits, keeping a good stack of vinyl LPs nearby, tucked away a little discreetly as one who was married had to do, though still in walking distance to the stereo. On a weekend evening, while my wife was preparing dinner, a bottle of wine open, no kids yet, or perhaps just the one, just a baby, I would periodically have the inspiration and the energy to delve in as a DJ and start spinning the tunes from my old records.

But babies become toddlers. More kids come. Records are fun things for them to destroy. Kids also start taking up time, record-playing time, time spent sitting down and reading liner notes, moving a turntable arm to the desired track. I know I’m not alone in the trend of those who found the dusty, scratchy old records migrating up to the attic or other “out of sight” (by one’s wife) locales. CDs were just too damn convenient for a guy like me to get nit-picky over the sound quality differences. Sure, there were (are?) some discernible positives that argued for the “warmer” vinyl, but man, the clarity on a well-mastered CDs, the small footprint taken up by a collection of them, as well as the portability… well, the poor old record didn’t stand much of a chance in households like mine.

Not that I ever thought of getting rid of any of my records, mind you. Why bother? If one had some space to store them, well, for me they are at very least like old photos, notebooks, memorabilia, etc. Too many memories wrapped up in the medium itself, both LPs in general and my collection specifically. I remember where and when I got almost every single record in my collection. And, here goes my requisite old-guy swipe at newer “forms of delivery”: I don’t recall with fuzzy warmth the time I downloaded the Kings of Leon “record.” But I remember the day I bought Sticky Fingers. I remember the whole day, the taste and temperature of the October air on the north shore of Long Island, walking downtown to buy the record at the off at “Off the Record” shop, walking again near the high school football field at dusk, clutching a square plastic bag made to hold albums, and finally getting home to my room to open up the Warhol-designed cover, peeling off the cellophane, my mother cooking dinner downstairs, taking out the disc, held by the edges in my palms, gently placing it on the turntable, and lowering the needle to hear the opening chords of “Sway.”

Along with the disappearing of records came the downsizing of the average stereo “system.” I, like many people, found myself playing music more often via the laptop, the iPod, etc. I don’t even play CDs in the car much anymore. That format seemed to just be a transitional one as well. But I am not complaining; I’m one who loves his music portable. I am filled with glee when I can take out my iPhone and, using an app called Remote, wirelessly dial up any music on my hard drive and stream it through my wifi network to any set of speakers I have hooked up to one of those Airport Express babies. I know this is not an audiophile’s dream, but not much is lost from the pretty basic analog systems I had all my life. I could never afford really expensive stereo equipment so it is a net plus for me. And if you had told me as a kid that I would be able to do that, well damn! I remember hearing a rumor that legendary local Boston D.J. Charles Laquidera had a system in his house that would mechanically dig out an album from his library of thousands in his basement and play it on a turntable/stereo wired throughout the house, sort of a whole-house jukebox. Not sure if there was any truth to it, but it was a fantastic image.

Still, I am not the first to point out that with all these conveniences, I feel like I have lost that whole tactile and cultural-relic aspect and relationship to my music. Sure, with that loss comes some gains. For example, with the appearance of the CD, we lost that big album art and rarely was there some novel invention or worthy artistic idea to offset or compensate for what was lost with the larger format. But as the Internet grew, so did music databases, artist web sites, blogs, fanzines, great ‘net radio like KCRW, Pandora, etc. So I find myself often discovering new music far more quickly than ever before and then digging deep and seeing videos by and of the artists, interviews, artwork, message boards, reviews – in short, far more than could ever have been imagined even in the days of 3-LP sets with booklets, postcards, and posters.

And yet…and yet, here I was pulling out a copy of Magical Mystery Tour from up in my attic to demonstrate exactly what I was talking about to my 4th grade daughter as she peered at the MMT “cover” on her iPod Nano. “Here,” I said. “You think that’s a cool picture, wait ‘til you see how it originally came out.” And she was either duly impressed with the old LP cover and booklet that I retrieved or faking it to not make me feel so bad and, uh, old. And she started asking me, as if out of central casting, exactly how were these things played. “Well,” I said. “Let me show you.” And I proceeded to go get the old turntable off the top of the basement refrigerator and hooked it up to my receiver. Now, this is a receiver I bought to have surround sound in the basement after, in the typical mode of leapfrogging technology, I got a big HD screen for down there. All my older stuff, Technics, Onkyo tape deck, etc. had either long ago died or left somewhere. Upstairs we have some ‘90s receiver to play the DVD and TV through, channeled into some lame 3:1 computer speakers hooked up through the headphone jack. But it sounds perfectly fine. The receiver downstairs, though, does not have an input for a turntable, which needs a preamp, blah blah blah. I could not play the records!

But weeks later, not sure what gave me the buzz again aside from another glass of wine and a fall Saturday afternoon, but I remembered I had gotten some sort of preamp to allow me to hook up the turntable to my computer. And I delved back into the attic and after a good hour, managed to find it in literally the last box in the farthest-most corner of the eaves. I grabbed the first record I could put my fingers on in one of the attic crates, Sgt. Pepper’s of all things, and went to the basement. It worked! The first song? “Lucy in the Sky,” of course, for the 4th grader, Lucy.

For the next hour I brought almost 1000 records, arms-full, crates-full of 12 and 10-inchers, dusty, heavy, down two floors to the basement, playing Blackmarket Clash, Bitches Brew, Daydream Nation, Truth, Feed Me with Your Kiss, Dark Side of the Moon, Time Fades Away and on and on, while I made my trips, sweating, I had all the records I could find. I know the indie kids are again (still?) collecting and bands releasing projects this way again. And, man, some of my records are worth a lot of money! A picture disc of Who Are You for $80?! 40 bucks here, another 50 there. The Pavement 10’’ is going for how much?!

I have replaced a great many of these old records with CDs, but so many more have not been. And they sounded great. But come on, I don’t buy the lament that the old stuff sounded “better,” unless your vinyl is pristine, in great quality pressings, with a high-end turntable. I know audiophiles are into the format. For me, all that crackling other deficiencies…the music just sounds smaller, murkier for the most part; sure, warmer here and there, but just kind of limited.

But here they were, my old friends! All stacked up and ready to be played again, thumbed through, re-stacked, opened, read, remembered. More wine!

Shame, Repentance, and Redemption

Shame. Yes, those of you who did not show up last week -- and there are multitudes -- missed Tanya Donelly singing the Beatles "Long Long Long" and her own beautiful, aching song, "This Hungry Life." And then you missed where all of us took a break to go upstairs and enjoy the miraculous comeback by the Red Sox (alas! they have come up short this year). And then you missed us going down again and ripping it up on "Dirty Water." And you missed an expanded rockestra that saw Matt Pynn on pedal steel, Sean Staples on mandolin, and Joe G. from the Click 5 on guitar.





(Thanks to Cathy P. for the photos)

You see what you miss when you decide 10:00 on a playoff night is too late? I shall not tell a lie; it was all friends and family last week. And I am, as Husker Du sang, hardly getting over it, hardly getting used to getting by.

Well, there are 2 more shows. Tomorrow, the 23rd is bound to be a night of sublime beauty and raucus rock music. I have no idea who is coming to join us. Then, the 30th will be the last live gig, perhaps ever for me. I may be giving up the music thing. Music is for kids. And for successful elder musicians.

OK, that's not true. But what if it were? Would October 31, 2008 be the Halloween the Music Died?

Clearly it is time for me to end this post.