I think a lot of people think of Ramones as a New Wave band rather than a punk band. This is odd, given that New Wave as a thing comes much later.
But okay: Blondie dates back as far, and an argument can be made that they are New Wave. Really though: I don’t even know what New Wave is. Punk is not a form of music, but an attitude toward it. And one could even say that it doesn’t mean all that much because punk was just the embrace of what was always rock: the FUBU of music.
There is no question, however, that Ramones were better able to create perfect pop music gems than any other band of that era — including Blondie. What’s amazing to me is that Ramones never had a top ten hit in the United States. Is it any wonder I complain about pop music? If you can’t love Ramones, then you just don’t like pop music. And if that is the case, why are you even reading this?!
Here is the band back in 1977 at The Rainbow in London, England. The vocals are mixed a little low. They do some of their classic songs off Ramones, Leave Home, and Rocket to Russia.
I recently heard the story of when Mojo Nixon met Don Henley. You see, Nixon had released a great song called, “Don Henley Must Die” on his album Otis. It’s a very funny song and is not nice to the six-time Grammy Award-winning musician. But in 1992, Henley showed up to a Mojo Nixon concert and sang the song with him.
Truly, I don’t give Henley that much credit for this. I know he’s a smart guy so what else is he going to do in response to a song that mocks him for being over-serious? Sure, Donald Trump wouldn’t be able to deal with it. But that’s a low bar.
Professionalism vs Chaos
The story does not, however, mean that the two of them became great friends. The truth is that they personify two trends in art. And it just so happens to be the difference I’m most interested in film, as I discuss at ridiculous length at Psychotronic Review.
Don Henley represents professionalism. And that does not mean that he doesn’t put his soul into his work. But necessarily, professionalism requires that you block a lot of the chaos of the id.
Mojo Nixon represents that id in about as pure a form as you can get while still creating work that people want to consume.
Neither trend is more authentic than the other. You can’t watch Mojo Nixon and miss that he’s performing. In that way it is no different than Henley’s “sensitive music idiot poetry.”
But I want to listen to Mojo Nixon far more than I want to listen to Don Henley. I realize that’s a minority opinion.
There’s an old Woody Allen routine about being selected to be the spokesman for a vodka brand. In it, he consults with his rabbi about the ethics of advertising a product he doesn’t use and finally decides not to do it. Later, he finds his rabbi is the new spokesman for the vodka. It’s a good routine. But a couple of years before that, Bob Dylan told the same joke in his song “Leopard-Skin Pill-Box Hat” off Blonde on Blonde.
I thought we would revisit the song today, since I see that my Bob Dylan page is filled with broken links.
The song is straight 12-bar blues — never wavering from the formula. So as is usually the case with Dylan, the focus is on the lyrics. It takes the form of a man trying to woo a women who wears a leopard-skin pill-box hat. There seems to be some sexual significance to the hat given that at the end he is upset that the doctor is wearing it. It at least seems to imply that with the hat on, the woman is dressed.
I most associate the song with Andrea Martin’s character Edith Prickley on SCTV. In fact, I was probably introduced to the character before I ever heard the song. Of course, she didn’t wear a pillbox hat, but it was close enough. I tend to think the character was based in part on the song.
One more day for John Prine. As I spent time listening to him trying to find something, I was reminded why I love that first album. It really is the best stuff he ever did. He grew as a songwriter, but that album is far more positive than anything he did afterward. Even in sad songs like “Hello in There,” he’s talking about something touching and beautiful.
Today, I offer up “Blue Umbrella” off Prine’s album Sweet Revenge. And frankly, it’s not one of his best. But it’s so evocative that I can’t help myself.
The Clueless Guy
It reminds me a lot of Dr Hook in that it’s hard to take it seriously. Prine seems to be making fun of a certain kind of guy. You probably know him — although it could be a gal too, even though they are less common.
They have many failed relationships and are in a constant state of confusion about why this is. What’s so funny (or annoying) about this guy is that everyone tells him what the problem is: the women who leave him, his friends, his family, even online quizzes he takes.
It reminds me of the scene in The Man with Two Brainswhere Steve Martin asks to be given a sign if there is anything wrong with his feelings for Dolores. There’s a loud moaning, “No!” The house shakes, the lights go out, the painting spins, they are explosions and the wind whips at him. And after it, he says, “Just any kind of sign. I’ll keep on the lookout for it.”
That’s the guy in this song: he thinks he can figure out the seasons if only he had an extra one, despite the fact that he gets to experience the seasons over and over.
But just like with “Sylvia’s Mother,” the song is both heartfelt and hilarious.
Sweet Revenge album cover mage via Amazon under Fair Use.
Since John Prine died, I figure I should spend a day with him. He created a lot of great music over the years. But I am still obsessed with his first self-titled album. I’ve purchased it numerous times and I never get tired of it. But there is one song on the album that misses for me. Not surprisingly, it is also the song that most people consider the album’s stand-out track: “Sam Stone.”
The song aims extremely high and it does manage to tell a tragic story and presents an unusually (for Prine) simplistic character. But it’s told in a weird and jarring way. The verses tell the story from an objective point of view while the chorus is told from the children’s. And given how evocative the refrain is (“there’s a hole in daddy’s arm where all the money goes”), I don’t know why he didn’t write the entire song from that perspective.
Sam Stone: One-Dimensional Junkie
The story also hasn’t aged well. When it was produced, there was major concern that soldiers were getting addicted to heroin in Vietnam and then coming home to become junkies. That turned out not to be generally true because drug us is contextual.
But the story does get something shockingly right — something that would become much bigger decades later: how pain poorly treated often leads to extra-medical use. But this is pushed to the side in the song to focus on stereotypes that are not true. For example, “Climbing walls while sitting in a chair.” Or “Sad songs never last too long on broken radios.” The implication is that Sam Stone’s real problem is that he can’t deal with the anxiety of life.
I think what most bugs me about it is that unlike most other people that John Prine sings about, Sam Stone is one-dimensional. He is just his addiction. And there’s even some dissonance in the song because of it. For example, somehow Stone manages to buy a house on the GI Bill but can’t manage to dress his kids. A far more interesting (and truthful) story would be about a man who works very hard to support his family while his addiction makes him distant and ultimately dead. That’s a far more tragic tale than the sad one Prine offers.
Don’t take this to mean that I think it’s a bad song. It was the first song that got my attention. And it works well enough. It’s better than anything I’ve ever written But when I’m listening to the album, I tend to skip it.
With the rise of The Go-Go’s, people in the music business figured there was a demand for lowest common denominator music. (That is not a complaint about The Go-Go’s, who I love.) They were right. In 1982, Toni Basil released a monster hit with “Mickey” off her first album Word of Mouth.
Based on what I’ve already said, you might think I’m not a fan. But that’s not exactly true. It is a catchy song that is well-produced. But mostly, I enjoy it for the joke that it is.
I especially love the organ riff that ends each chorus. It’s a simple arpeggio: I, III, V, I-8va. It’s so simple that I can’t hear it without thinking, “Those producers!” I’m sure Mike Chapman (who co-wrote the song and played keyboards on it) told them, “You want me to play what?!” The whole song features professional musicians playing with as little creativity as they can muster.
The song was originally performed by Racey as “Kitty.” It’s still features a very simple production. But not in-your-face simple. The crew that created “Mickey” really upped the game and produced a song destined to top the Billboard Hot 100.
I asked Will for a recommendation for a song and he mentioned Jethro Tull’s “Locomotive Breath.” I’m deeply divided about the band. On the one hand, they’re like the best bar band ever, and Ian Anderson is great on the flute. On the other hand, they’re like the best bar band ever, and Ian Anderson is great on the flute.
They are still worth listening to now and then. But Anderson grates on me after a short while. And his songwriting doesn’t thrill me in my mid-50s, but I will admit that it did thrill me in my mid-teens.
After reading a bit about “Locomotive Breath,” I find I have a problem with it too. Don’t get me wrong, I like it. It’s exactly the kind of song that the band was meant to play. I could do without the stupid introduction but once it gets going, it’s great.
But I read that Anderson wrote it to express his concern about over-population. Really?! I don’t see how anyone was supposed to get that from the lyrics. I wish artists wouldn’t talk about their work. It always makes it worse.
I’m in a bit of a rush so I’m going with a classic, “Je t’aime… Moi Non Plus.” But I do have something to say: rock music is as fake as Donald Trump.
I like Bruce Springsteen. He’s a very talented guy and a hell of a songwriter. But the things that most people like about him embarrass me. It isn’t just watching the old man pretend his guitar is his dick (something that is horrible at any age). I don’t even like those songs of youthful hope.
“Thunder Road” especially annoys me. I can only bear it because I see “The River” lurking beneath it.
The rock version of sex always reminds me of Elvis Costello’s “Mystery Dance,” which is about two sexually naive youths making a complete mess of the act. That strikes me as completely authentic because almost everyone I know has a “first-time” comedy-horror story.
Far worse in this regard is Bob Seger whose songs are a parade of pretense and inauthenticity. And I can say that about “Je t’aime… Moi Non Plus” too — at least when it comes to pretense. But it has a couple of advantages.
First, it’s cheeky. Everyone understands what the song is doing and it has a giggly charm to it. Second, it has some relationship to the way sex actually is — at least when it’s done right.
But most of all, “Je t’aime… Moi Non Plus” itself is sexy. When I hear the pounding beat of what is said to be sexy rock-n-roll, all I imagine is inexperienced young people rutting in the general vicinity of each other’s groins.
Previously Written (2015)
Perhaps it is too early in the day for it, but this is the Serge Gainsbourg song “Je T’Aime… Moi Non Plus,” which literally means, “I love you… me neither.” The lyrics are thinly disguised sexual references, such as, “Tu vas, tu vas, et tu viens,” which means, “You’re going, you’re going, and you come.” There are also lots of references to water and waves and islands and loins. But you don’t need to speak a word of French to know what the song is all about.
It was written for Brigitte Bardot, and she recorded it with Gainsbourg. But before it was released, he created another version with his English girlfriend, Jane Birkin. It is a far sexier version of the song. And it created a sensation throughout Europe. It was banned in many countries, but was nonetheless hugely successful. In America, it only made it to number 58 on the Hot 100. This is because Americans are boring, and the American ideal of masculinity is based on a deep fear that all American men are actually gay, and that this will become clear if they don’t constantly act like jerks.
I had mentioned to Marc McDonald that I really liked Gang of Four and he said I should check out Au Pairs. I can see why! They sound a lot like Gang of Four mixed with X.
The first thing that stands out with Au Pairs is the rhythm section with often extremely jagged grooves. A good example of this is “The Love Song.” Most of it sounds a lot like Gang of Four’s “Anthrax.” But it moves far away from this with a romantic-sounding bridge while maintaining the same sarcastic cynical lyrics.
Where they most differ from Gang of Four is in lyrics and vocals. Lesley Woods is quite a good singer with a great breadth of style. She can be (is) as in-your-face as Gang of Four ever is. But more often, she’s focused on melody and presenting as much mood as content.
This goes along with lyrics that are pointed but not direct. And that’s where I hear Exene Cervenka, although I hate to even say it because I think sometimes, she’s just a mess.
Anyway, I’ll have to listen to them more to get a better sense of the band. But their first album, Playing with a Different Sex, is exceptional. Let’s listen to a distinctly Gang of Four sounding song (the last on the album), “It’s Obvious.”
It’s Jacques Brel’s birthday today. He would have been 91. He has such a hold on me that he was the first person I thought of featuring when I decided to restart Morning Music. But I thought it better to look elsewhere. Then I noticed it was his birthday and I figured it was okay to talk about him.
Brel was quite a successful actor, starring in a number of films. And that’s what really sets him apart as a singer. His songs aren’t really better than those of his peers. But when he performs, it seems like you are living through the story with him. And this is why you don’t really need a translation to appreciate his work.
Mathilde
I am featuring the song that I most associate with Brel: Mathilde. This is probably because the song speaks to me and my history. It is about a man whose ex-lover returns to him. He knows it will turn out poorly but can’t help himself. The song implies that this is not a new thing. She has returned before and he took her back then.
Mathilde is not present for most of the song. Through most of the song, he talks to his mother, his friends, even himself. He works his way from vaguely asking for people to stop him to admitting there is no stopping him to finally welcoming Mathilde with joy.
The refrain is, “Mathilde est revenue.” It means roughly, “Mathilde is returned.” Also repeated is, “Maudite Mathilde, puisque te v’là.” Roughly: “Cursed Mathilde, since you are here.” The second line is sung very differently at the end of the song than it is at the beginning — indicative of the singer’s emotional journey through the song.
It’s all very familiar. And it shows the wisdom of embracing your mistakes if you know you will make them.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RMFFK4av-D4
Cropped from Jacques Brel by Jack de Nijs / Anefo under CC0.
I’m not a huge fan of the Beatles. Or rather, I’m kind of bored of the Beatles. You see, my first significant girlfriend was a huge Beatles fan. So I listened to them excessively and read about them almost as much.
Today, however, we’re going to listen to “Blackbird” off The Beatles(traditionally called “The White Album”).
I remember reading that Paul McCartney had said the song was written for the Civil Rights movement in the US. In truth, he’s said a number of things. That’s to be expected. When you work on something long enough, you will think of it in different ways.
Regardless, I don’t much care. I prefer my political songs to be more explicit. But it is a beautiful song. And it makes me think of my crows who are more black than most blackbirds. And they’re just better — no matter what Alfred Hitchcock might tell you.
I remember the first time I saw Bruce Cockburn perform live. It was at the Cotati Cabaret and it was in support for his album, Stealing Fire. The album had been getting a lot of play on AOR stations and I bought it both because it was brilliant but also because I was very focused on the way that US policy was screwing up Central America.
That album featured two songs about this in particular. First, Nicaragua about the efforts to create a decent society by the Sandinista government despite American meddling. Second, If I Had a Rocket Launcher about the military-led Salvadoran government’s attacks on refugee camps.
For his encore, Cockburn said, “A friend asked me to perform this song.” He talked about how he didn’t really want to do it because he was a visitor to the US and he didn’t want to badmouth it. But the audience was fine with it. This was, after all, during the early years of the Reagan administration, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise: Reagan was as vulgar and vile an aberration of the norm then as Trump is now.
America’s Reputation in the World
That song was “Yanqui Go Home.” It wasn’t on Stealing Fire but has since been added to the CD. I present it today because its picture of how America looks to the rest of the world hasn’t much changed: an arrogant and abusive drunk that needs to go sleep it off.
Sadly, I think that Cockburn is far too kind. I don’t see this country as fundamentally good but easily diverted from the path of righteousness. That’s the line we sell to the proles. The people in power in this country understand as well as O’Brien in Nineteen Eighty-Four does: power for its own sake.
The main way that the myth is sold to the people is through the idea of American Exceptionalism. I’m not clear why this ever worked. Every group of people at every time thought they were exceptional. And even here in America, people don’t agree about what the term means. To conservatives, it apparently means that we should be able to act as boors and the rest of the world should roll over for us because of our greatness.
At the beginning of Gone With the Wind, Rhett Butler says to his rich southern friends, “Why, all we have is cotton and slaves and arrogance.” That sums up the way I think of America. We’ve got a lot of financial instruments and under-paid workers. But what we really have — in such excesses that we will never run low — is arrogance.
And for my life, I do not know why.
Stealing Fire album cover from Amazon under Fair Use.
