From the moment I heard Bruce Gary’s infectious drum beat on the intro to “My Sharona”, I was hooked. I had never heard of this band, The Knack. Then, of course, they were everywhere. “Good Girls Don’t” was the follow-up hit that proved once and for all this was no one-hit wonder. They were a two-hit wonder!

“…but the little girls understand” came only months later and it seemed to sound so much like “Get The Knack, Part 2″ to me that I was not at all surprised the tracks had been recorded during the same sessions and that the band had initially hoped to release “Get The Knack” as a double-album.

My favorite Knack record, without a doubt, is “Round Trip”. Oddly enough, it is the album that got the band dropped by Capitol Records for being a complete commercial failure.

If “Get The Knack” was their “Meet The Beatles, “Round Trip” was The Knack’s “Revolver”. With songs like “Art War”, “Africa”, and “We Are Waiting”, they fused psychedelia with jazz chops and, while there were the obligatory standard pop songs (”Radiating Love” and “Soul Kissin’, for example), this experimental approach completely alienated the fans.

The band later broke up, Fieger having become addicted to heroin(!). They would reform repeatedly, as Fieger and Gary made half-hearted attempts to work around their differences. It was not to be, though.

Bruce Gary, of course, passed away last year, making any further full reunions impossible.

The good news, of course, is that The Knack are still very much alive, gigging consistently in the wake of Fieger’s recent recovery from cancer.

The band’s 1979 Carnegie Hall appearance was perhaps the pinnacle of Knack-mania, if you will. Here are some tracks from that performance.

Enjoy!

Let Me Out
Your Number Or Your Name
Oh Tara
The Hard Way
It’s You
Frustrated
Heartbeat
End Of The Game
Hold On Tight And Don’t Let Go
Good Girls Don’t
She’s So Selfish
My Sharona

One of the most dramatic success stories of 2007 is Amy Winehouse, who first captivated us with her stunningly retro hit, “Rehab”, then flew off the rails in a haze of drug and self-abuse. As the UK tabloids detail a life in quick decline, one can only hope that this immensely talented individual will eventually win out over the demons that seek to thwart her rise to greatness. Whether you dig her music, or not, I am hopeful that your prayers will be with her and that we are able to hear more from this potentially legendary artist.

I, too, entered a period where success sought to bring out every insecurity I had in myself. Every time you’re told you aren’t good enough, every time the kids in school make fun of you, every time your parents criticize you, will be magnified ten-fold the closer you get to realizing your dream. Alcohol brought me out of my shell when video shoots, photo shoots, and press interviews required that I be something other than the introverted person that I was 97% of the time. That was as far as it went, though. No hard stuff. I can only imagine that if I had been exposed to the things Amy has been exposed to, I wouldn’t be sitting here writing this blog. Sad to say, really.

Even sadder is the idea that Amy might not pull out of this tailspin and that she might be so devoid of self-respect that she allows herself to succumb to the voices that tell her she isn’t good enough. She IS good enough, goddammit. It’s a fuckin’ sad-ass world if she’s unable to allow herself to believe that when it matters most.

My thoughts and prayers are with this crazy, lost, mixed-up girl who’s no different than the rest of us when it comes to feeling like shit sometimes. She’s got that special something, though…something that you can’t necessarily describe…and I hope she sticks around.

Enjoy the tracks!

Addicted
Back To Black
He Can Only Hold Her
I Heard Love Is Blind
Just Friends
Know You Now
Me And Mr. Jones
Rehab
Take The Box
Tears Dry On Their Own
You Know I’m No Good

What would I be if I didn’t share my one and only Prince story? Well, here goes:

I spent a couple weeks cutting basic tracks at Paisley Park back in ‘92. At the time, I was too much a post-punk/pop nerd to appreciate Prince so my producer’s idea to cut tracks at Prince’s state-of-the-art facility in the middle of freakin’ Nowhere, Minnesota (in MARCH!) was nowhere near as glamorous as the idea of recording in, say, Los Angeles!

So, begrudgingly, I agreed, but subconsciously dragged my feet. I distinctly remember waiting until the last minute to book a flight and ended up paying top dollar. Sure, it was on the company dime, but I was smart enough then to know all the expenses, advances, per diems, and recording costs eventually come out of my pocket.

So, I arrive in Minneapolis and take a limo to what then was a very remote suburb of Minneapolis. It has since been heavily developed and is considered an upscale community these days. My first impression of the facility was that it looked like the building you’d see in a movie that would house some top-secret weapons facility, but try to appear harmless and ordinary from the outside. The walls were a pristine white.

Upon walking inside, though…

(Paisley Park’s main lobby)

“Holy…” I whispered with my jaw dragging the floor.

We had been scheduled for Studio B, but were moved to Studio A (which was HUGE) because a certain someone had decided he wanted to come in and record some new tracks.

The first three days we were there, though, Studio B remained empty. I didn’t care, though, because, as I said, Studio A was HUGE and, since we were going for big, football-field sized drum sounds, the bigger the better!

The cool thing about the facility is that you could walk all over the place, feeling as if you’ve walked for miles, and still never feel as if you’ve seen everything. The interior design is so intricate in places that it can take you a good long time to drink it all in. The other cool thing is that, since it IS its own little world, you have no idea what time it is. Pulling a 12, 14 or even 17-hour day was not outside the norm. Plus, being in a state-of-the-art recording studio is like locking a kid in a candy store for me. I tend to lose myself in the fun of it all and, before you know it, ten hours have gone by. Sometimes we started at ten in the morning, but, if we’d pulled a long session the night before, we might start at 3PM the next day and go for another 10-12 hours.

The reason I mention this is because while we were recording drum tracks (at 3AM, I later realized), the Purple One walked into Studio A’s control room and stood behind my producer and engineer, just listening, not saying a word. As was common for me upon finishing a new take of a drum track, I got up from my kit and walked into the control room to listen back to the track. Upon entering the room, I noticed another person in the room - not altogether uncommon. Thus, I only gave him half a look as I plopped down on a nearby couch to listen to the playback. Then, boom, it hit me: Um, that’s Prince.

It gets better.

After staying and listening to the playback, tapping his fancy boots in time to the drum track, he turns to me. “I’m Prince, by the way,” he says, extending his hand. “So you wanna play drums on a couple tracks for me?”

I nodded as nonchalantly as I could, trying to act is if this kind of thing happens to me all the time.

I honestly don’t remember him saying anything else. Next thing I know, he’s gone and my producer and engineer are right back in “business” mode. I guess this kind of thing wasn’t anything out of the ordinary to them. I wanted to call everybody I knew and tell them about what had just happened. The more I thought about it, the more my mind explored the possibilities. Maybe Prince would be so blown away that he’d offer me the drum gig in his band.

A couple days later, I show up and my engineer says “Oh, they need you over at Studio B”. Okay, cool. Gotta go jam with Prince, ya’ll.

(Studio B’s control room)

I walk in and see a face I don’t recognize. It’s just a tape-op guy whose name I forget the minute he tells me. Where’s Prince, man?

So, for the next couple hours, I play one of the nicest DW kits I’ve ever seen as the tape-op guy hits me with one song after the other. After the first track, I ask to take another stab at it, having only heard it the one time. “No, you got it,” he says as I hear the whir of the tape machine fast-forwarding to the next track in my headphones. I do much the same thing for five or six songs, one take and onto the next one. Some of the tracks are nothing but guitars, bass and a click track, some with incomplete or gibberish vocals, and others are darn close to completed tracks, loaded with horns, female backing vocals, the whole nine yards.

“Alright, that’s it. Thanks!”

Wow, it’s over. I feel the air-conditioning come on and the cool air reminds me I’m sweating profusely.

To this day, I have no idea what I played on, whether I’m credited on anything (although my hunch has always been that if I get credited on a Prince album, I’ll know).

If you guys are anything at all like me, you were sad to see Rock & Roll Jeopardy go off the air before you were personally able to administer a full-on trivia beatdown upon that smugly annoying Mark McGrath guy (seriously, it depresses me that he knows anything more than his own name, but I digress).

Being the completely rock & roll trivia nerd that I am, I’ve decided to try having a little fun with Blogger’s Poll feature and run a trivia question or two every week just for sh*ts and giggles (which you should be able to locate at the top of the right sidebar).

So, basically, you just vote for the choice you think is correct and, come September 4th, I’ll take everybody who voted correctly out for pizza. I kid, I kid.

In the immortal words of David Letterman…”this is not a competition, it is only an exhibition — please, no wagering.”

During my quest to find a new label home for my upcoming CD, I figured it would be beneficial to pass along some of the things I’ve learned in the process:

- Your traditional record guys, most with a lengthy track record of success at the major label level “back in the day”, who decide to start their own label are to be avoided at all costs. They are some “out for themselves” MF’ers intent on maintaining a lifestyle well above that of most successful recording artists.

- From the “It Seems Obvious Now” Dept.: Hire your own interpreter when negotiating key contract points with a Japanese label. Though they may have spoken fluent English when telling you how great you were and how much they loved your music, their comprehension of the language will dissipate in direct proportion to the importance of the points being discussed.

- When a UK label flies in to L.A. for the sole purpose of catching your first live show in three years, make sure that more than thirty people show up. Sure, there were over 200 people at the next show, but no record label exec’s came to that one.

- Nothing is more rock & roll than a good bidding war between two or more labels (or so I’ve been told). Mine wasn’t over money, but, rather, the number of free copies each label would provide to me up-front at no cost. Back forth it went for what seemed like weeks. The buzz-kill came when I realized that, as each label countered with a higher number of freebies, the cost of purchasing subsequent copies also got higher. I had always dreamt of the kind of bidding war where millions of dollars lied in the balance, each side raising the dollar amount of the advance, or the royalty rate I’d receive. Instead, here we were going back and forth over a couple thousand freebies, which, more than likely, would probably be the only benefit of signing with them anyway.

- Three words: Keep your publishing. Seriously, even the piddly little indie labels want a chunk of your publishing these days, all thinking they’re the next P. Diddy or something.

- I was serious about the publishing.

- Just because the highest level exec at the label is courting you doesn’t insure your album will be a priority. By the same token, guys who act like your “best friend” during the courting and negotiation process won’t even make eye contact once the ink dries.

- Putting the record out yourself may not be as glamorous as entering into a one-sided deal with the Devil, but at least you get to keep your masters.

And your PUBLISHING!

I was such a wee lad when the first Boston album came out in 1976 that I remember little else from the time, but I distinctly remember how much an impact the record had on the music world. First, there was the distinctive guitar-shaped spaceship on the cover telling you this was not your everyday rock band. Then there was the sound of the album itself. Aside from some truly stellar songs, Scholz production resulted an album that sounded as if it had been cut twenty or thirty years in the future and then deposited in a time machine set for 1976.

MIT engineering graduate Tom Scholz had been dabbling in music since he was a kid, going so far as to invent some of the amplification that would be used in the recording of the album. Despite being impressed by Scholz home demos, Epic had demanded that the band re-record the album at a professional studio. Aside from recording one song at a California studio with John Boylan, though, the recording budget was spent on beefing up the equipment in Tom’s home studio, where the remaining seven songs were recorded without Epic knowing the difference.

With Boston more a concept than a functioning band up to that point, the classic Boston line-up of Scholz, singer Brad Delp, guitarist Barry Goudreau, bassist Fran Sheehan, and drummer Sib Hashian was hastily assembled and comprised mostly of musicians Scholz had worked with in other Boston-area bands.

The band would soon fracture into separate factions after the release of “Don’t Look Back” in 1978, with Goudreau pursuing a brief solo career before forming Orion The Hunter (with future Boston singer Fran Cosmo) and RTZ (with former Boston singer Brad Delp) in later years.

Critics often reflexively deride Boston as one of the many corporate rock bands that came to prominence in the 70’s, but, truth be told, they were the product of Scholz’ D.I.Y. determination. He got where he was by sticking to his guns, going so far as to deceive the label to maintain artistic control of the album by recording at home. The fact that the album went on to sell millions owes just as much to Scholz’ talents as a songwriter, producer and multi-instrumentalist as Epic’s considerable clout as THE label for the best American rock had to offer.

Here’s a new spin on a classic album, live cuts of each track from “Boston”:

More Than A Feeling
Peace Of Mind
Foreplay/Long Time
Rock & Roll Band
Smokin’
Hitch A Ride
Something About You
Let Me Take You Home Tonight

BONUS MATERIAL:

1981 article on Scholz’s broken thumb, which would delay completion of third album… (click image to enlarge article)

Video interview of Scholz and Delp from 80’s UK TV show, Old Grey Whistle Test:

I dig Snow Patrol.

There, I said it.

I liked Snow Patrol back when they were just an Irish band getting some BBC airplay for their first album. In hindsight, the first album sounds pretty embryonic, but, still, there was just something about the singer’s voice that connected with me.

Years later, I picked up “Final Straw” at a time when I was going through some upheaval in my personal life (read: chick trouble) and, point blank, that album got me through some tough sh*t. I was working at eHarmony, answering emails from people who were also looking for “the love of their life” and there I was; a guy whose own love life was in shambles. For several months, all I did was show up at work, put “Final Straw” in my PC, and answer emails from hundreds of people who were having troubles of their own. Singer Gary Lightbody’s lyrics hit so close to home that it was sometimes a little hard to listen to, but the songs were so undeniable. There was just enough joy amidst the angst to raise my spirits.

With the release of “Eyes Open”, we find Gary still lamenting the relationship that crashed and burned just prior to Final Straw and I, for one, couldn’t be happier. Just kidding, of course. Again, the songs wear their lyrical heart on their sleeve and one can’t help wonder just what the heck poor Gary did to f*** things up so badly that here he is two years later still trying to find his way out of the debris.

In homage to one of the most-played albums on my numerous road trips this past year, I’ve compiled a sort of alternate Eyes Open, comprised of live versions I’ve gathered. Even if you’ve played this CD as often as I have over the past couple years, some of these performances will breath new life into these great, albeit familiar songs. Also note the cool mash-up of “Chasing Cars/Every Breath You Take”.

You’re All I Have
Hands Open
Chasing Cars
Shut Your Eyes
It’s Beginning To Get To Me
Make This Go On Forever
Set The Fire To The Third Bar
Headlights On Dark Roads
Open Your Eyes
Finish Line

Bonus Track: Every Car You Chase (The Police/Snow Patrol Mash-Up)

(note: an alternate version of “You Could Be Happy” was unavailable at press time.)

(what are you lookin’ at?)

Today being Friday, I figured I’d keep things a little light and pay props to one of the good guys.

My buddy Jeff over at jefitoblog has long been a source for great music and humor (some of it intentional, some of it not so much, I’m looking at you Steelheart).

Perhaps best known for his Complete Idiot’s Guides on a plethora of artists ranging from Randy Newman to Adam Ant and beyond, I have long enjoyed his talents for making even artists I know or care nothing about interesting.

The greatest honor of my life (aside from having my nuts cupped at the DMV by Bea Arthur, long story) came when Jeff requested that I write a Complete Idiot’s Guide to Cheap Trick. It went on to become the most-read Complete Idiot’s Guide of all-time!

At my house, at least.

But what a lot of people don’t know is that I’ve written a lot of other Complete Idiot’s Guides that Jeff didn’t publish, the bastard. Today, I declassify two of them for your reading pleasure.

Please note: there will be no mp3’s to sample, and no links to buy the CD’s…you’re welcome.

COMPLETE IDIOT’S GUIDE TO DANIEL POWTER

Daniel Powter
self-titled
Warner Bros.(2006)

I admit to liking “Bad Day” for about five minutes back when it was a UK hit. A year later, American Idol and Top 40 radio successfully beat the song into the ground to the point that I change the station the moment I hear the opening piano line. The other nine songs on this album are as unnecessary and random as the items an embarrassed hubby uses as “checkout camouflage” for the tampons his wife sent him to pick up.

Daniel Powter
self-titled – Special Edition
Warner Bros. (2007)

I shit you not. I looked up the definition of “superfluous” in the dictionary. There were no words, just a picture of this CD.

COMPLETE IDIOT’S GUIDE TO ENUFF Z’NUFF

Enuff Z’nuff
self-titled
(Atco) 1989

The hair metal bandwagon was already full of more hangers on than it could hold, but these Chicago boys dove head-first into the Revlon and landed on MTV with not one, but two tie-dyed technicolor yawns that, perhaps more than anything, sealed their fate as Hair Metal Also-Rans™. I remember reading an interview where one of the members of the band described their music as a mix of Beatle-esque psychedelia and early Queen. I stopped reading at that point because it was apparent that he had obviously been listening to a completely different Enuff Z’nuff album than the one Atlantic had pressed up.

Enuff Z’nuff
Strength
(Atco) 1991

I remember this album actually getting some good reviews, or, more accurately, I remember people who liked the band telling me it got good reviews. Why they felt the need to drag the critics into it, I don’t know. Enuff z’nuff fans, perhaps more so than fans of most other hair metal bands, seem overly driven to prove how fucking artistic this band was/is. Whatever artistry there might have been is smothered by a relentless by-the-numbers late 80’s production that shows complete disrespect for nuance or subtlety. I considered giving it another spin, but the snare sound had already set off enough car alarms for one day.

Enuff Z’nuff
Animals With Human Intelligence
Arista (1992)

Clive Davis reportedly courted the band because he was convinced that singer Donnie Vie was the future of rock & roll. It’s true, just ask him (Donnie, that is). The third time was not the charm, though

Enuff Z’nuff
1985
Big Deal (1994)

Collection of pre-Atco demos that tried real hard to portray them as power pop heroes. Didn’t fly high at all, Michelle.

Enuff Z’nuff
Tweaked
Mayhem (1995)

Okay, whoever keeps giving these guys money to put out new records, cut it out.

Enuff Z’nuff
Peach Fuzz
BD (1996)

I’m serious, cock jockey.

Enuff Z’nuff
Seven
Mayhem (1997)

Aw, fucking hell…

Enuff Z’nuff
Live
Mayhem (1998)

Fucking hell with crowd noise.

Enuff Z’nuff
Paraphernalia
Spitfire (1999)

Seriously, who the fuck in that band can even spell “paraphernalia” much less say it?

Enuff Z’nuff
10
Pony Canyon [Japan] (2000)

America drops another bomb on the Japanese.

Enuff Z’nuff
Welcome To Blue Island
Dreamcatcher (2002)

A merciful two-year break between albums.

Jeebus, can’t these guys take a page out of the Tom Sholz playbook and chill the fuck out for a decade or three?

Enuff Z’nuff
? (seriously, that’s the title)
Perris (2004)

?! …

Postscript: In all fairness, Chip Z’nuff is a nice guy who deserves any success he’s managed to attain. He just has the unfortunate honor of being froever connected to the mess that is Donnie Vie and, thus, the saga of Enuff Z’nuff continues begrudgingly, no end in sight.

While Donnie drifts around Hollywood, his wife paying the rent, Chip is hitting the tour circuit this summer with Adler’s Appetite (featuring GNR drummer Stephen Adler) and a Poison tribute band. I’m serious.

When you’re young, you have the whole world in front of you. There is hope, potential, and innocence in healthy supply. Of course, most of us don’t realize (or appreciate) this until our youth is seen only in the rearview mirror.

George Bernard Shaw may have been talking about something else entirely when he said, “The joys of youth are wasted on the young”, but his words are no less prescient in this context.

As the sands of the hourglass fall ever so quickly and the hands of the clock spin at an ever-dizzying speed, it seems we each stop doing things that connect us to our youth.

We stop skipping when we walk.

We stop smiling at strangers.

We stop jumping on the bed.

We stop blowing on the white dandelions.

We stop believing in the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, and the Easter Bunny.

We stop writing love notes that include the option “yes or no, circle one”.

We stop hanging upside down from the monkey bars.

We stop running just for the heck of it.

We stop asking others if they want to be friends with us.

We stop wearing pajamas with feet in them.

We stop climbing trees.

We stop camping out in the backyard.

We stop waking up early on Saturday mornings to watch cartoons.

We stop taking toys out of their boxes because they’re worth more that way.

We stop pouring out the cereal just to get to the prize.

We stop wearing different color socks on purpose.

We stop trick or treating.

We stop flying kites.

We stop knowing all the words to every Christmas song.

We stop looking forward to our birthday.

We stop jumping into piles of freshly-raked leaves.

We stop taking field trips.

We stop playing cops and robbers.

We stop taking two-month summer vacations.

We stop having as much fun with sparklers as we used to.

We stop thinking the kid in the Mickey Mouse suit is really Mickey Mouse.

We stop trying to catch lightning bugs.

We stop getting as many toys for our birthday.

We stop spending as much time looking up at the stars at night.

We stop wearing mittens.

We stop savoring a good milk moustache.

We stop believing that anything is possible

We stop living as if each day is going to be the most amazing day EVER!

We stop dreaming big, ridiculous dreams.

Song of the day:

The Beatles-Sun King (alternate mix with organ intro)

–I picked this song today because when I hear it, I can see the ten-year-old me running around in slow motion, not a care in the world, with absolutely no idea I’d still be at square one some thirty years later.

Still dreaming big, though!

Hope you are, too.

Rock on,
Darren

For me, “Help!” was the album that showed the Beatles to be outgrowing their teenybopper days (for lack of a better term) and heading very quickly toward the groundbreaking experimentation of “Rubber Soul”, “Sgt. Pepper’s” and so on.

Much like the movie itself, “Help!” (the album) came at my ears in FULL COLOR, baby, making everything that came before seem like it was blasting out of a 13″ black-and-white TV by comparison.

The reason I mention this is because I thought it’d be cool to post a few mp3’s that detail the recording process. The first of three songs I’ll post today is one that I’ve always felt was their last lightweight “teenybopper” song. It’s still a great song, make no mistake about that, but was proof the fabs hadn’t completely abandoned their “black-and-white” days.

The second song is “Yes It Is”; one of my fave tracks from the “Help!” record. Mid-sixties Lennon at his best, with a perfectly atmospheric Harrison guitar line played live while the basic track is being cut.

But Darren, why post several versions of the same song, you ask?

Well, I’ll tell you why: the studio banter, flubs and re-starts are all part of the charm of these tracks. You can actually get an idea of what it was like to have “been there”.

The third song is an alternate mix of Ticket To Ride that I dig. Hope you do too.

Enjoy!

That Means A Lot (rehearsal)
That Means A Lot (test take)
That Means A Lot (take 1)
That Means A Lot (take 2)
That Means A Lot (take 20)
That Means A Lot (take 21)
That Means A Lot (take 23)
That Means A Lot (take 24)

Yes It Is (take 1)
Yes It Is (takes 2 through 7)
Yes It Is (takes 8 and 9)
Yes It Is (takes 10 through 14)

Ticket To Ride (alternate mix, single-tracked Lennon vocal, no fade)