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Monday, September 28th, 2009

Death by Power Ballad: Foreigner, “Out of the Blue”

by Rob Smith

“It’s always that one song that gets to you. You can hide, but the song comes to find you.”
— Rob Sheffield (Love Is a Mix Tape)

I dislike Rob Sheffield for many reasons—his writing comes off as pompous, hipper-than-thou snark (and that’s just for the stuff he likes); his greasy, perpetual grad student look smacks so obviously of affectation; his voice on those VH1 shows sounds like he’s gargling bathwater with a tampon shoved up each nostril; and he made music writing safe for a whole army of people just like him (read Spin lately?). I also dislike him out of insane jealousy; in spite of all the above, he wrote one of the most moving books about music and music fans I’ve ever read. The bastard done really good. Go to Amazon now and purchase a copy, or borrow one from your local library, that most wonderful of socialist institutions.

A song I’d relegated to the leaky, cobwebby space in the back of my mind recently came to find me. I’d been in the mood to listen to some vinyl, and one of the hundred or so LPs I had standing at attention on a shelf in my living was Foreigner’s 1987 album Inside Information. Immediately, I knew which song I would drop the needle on first; I flipped the thing over to Side Two, and let my trusty old turntable do its thing. (more…)

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Monday, September 21st, 2009

CD Review: David Gray, “Draw the Line”

by Rob Smith

The popularity of David Gray’s White Ladder nine or so years ago was a fluke, an accident, a total surprise, never should have happened. The man had been plugging away for seven years at that point, making little leeway in the wider pop consciousness, when something clicked—was it that blend of acoustic instruments and electronic flourishes? Or that reedy voice with the blasting upper register? Or maybe those songs that mined personal depths to find universal truths?

It was quite possibly all of the above, and in spite of the unlikelihood of the bobblehead troubadour as pop hero, he followed up Ladder with two more equally fine records before coming to the inevitable career crossroads—he fired his band, hired a new one, started a family, recharged, and found a new creative energy in all this change.

The first results of this renewal are the 11 songs on Draw the Line, perhaps Gray’s finest work yet. Largely eschewing the electronic counterpoints to his music’s acoustic foundations, Gray for the first time leans on and allows himself to be propelled by a band, to appreciable effect in all aspects of the record.

The change is evident from the first bars of “Fugitive.” Drummer Keith Pryor makes the martial tempo sound unexpectedly loose, and Gray follows through with a loping piano figure and a lyric that extols one to live for the moment (”Hey better realize my friend / Lord in the end now you can’t take it with / Gotta live”). His way with a melody is undiminished, livening even the darkest corners of the album’s title track, which ticks off a list of social and personal ills against which we must defend ourselves (All this talk can hypnotize you and / We can ill afford / To give ourselves to sentiment / When our time is oh so short / … Have to draw the line”). (more…)

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Monday, September 21st, 2009

Unsolicited Career Advice for … Def Leppard

by Rob Smith

According to Lev, Uncle Donnie served in some capacity in the Def Leppard camp during the recording sessions for Adrenalize, and wound up going out with them on one of the U.S. legs of their ‘92 tour. Became quite close with the band, apparently, though for unknown reasons was never asked back after that leg. This memo, however, reveals they still hold a place in his heart. -RS

TO: Def Leppard
FROM: Don Skwatzenschitz
RE: Career Advice

First of all, yes—I wanna get rocked. Ha! Remember that, back in ‘92? Man, those were good times. I mean, not great times—Clarky was dead, and everyone felt bad, but didn’t we have a good time hazing poor Vivian? I’ve never had a better time on tour with a rock and roll band. Thanks for including me, and for putting up with Mitzi lifting up her shirt in the front row for 64 shows. It couldn’t have been easy for you, particularly Joe, who would invariably be trying to sing to a babe on one side of Mitz or the other.

Anyway, since we go back a ways, I feel compelled to talk with you about a serious issue, namely, your recording career. It needs to stop. Now. The last two albums prove it, if the previous two or three didn’t. A covers record is typically a sign of desperation, and Yeah! was no exception. Face it, people would rather hear All American Rejects do your songs, or Taylor Swift, or some anonymous kid, or even you, 20 years ago, than to hear you do T. Rex or Bowie covers. Not to mention David-effin’-Essex. “Rock On?” Ain’t no rock to be found there, buddies. (more…)

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Monday, September 21st, 2009

The Popdose Interview: David Gray

by Rob Smith

I recall in the late ’80s reading a Rolling Stone review of Richard Thompson’s Amnesia that began “Ho-hum, another first-rate Richard Thompson album.” The uniform excellence of Thompson’s work, particularly in that period, could indeed lull one into complacency, to the point where that excellence could easily be taken for granted.

I thought something similar in 2005, about the work of another UK singer/songwriter, David Gray. That year, he released Life in Slow Motion, a devastatingly gorgeous collection of songs that extended a winning streak begun with White Ladder, his breakout record of six years previous (you remember “Babylon,” don’t you?), and continued through 2002’s New Day at Midnight. Each of them set Gray’s reedy, plaintive voice against a musical backdrop that melded acoustic instrumentation with electronic flourishes, in the service of deeply personal, deeply resonant songs. Combined with a compilation of the best early tracks from his decade-plus career (Lost Songs, 2001), these exceptional discs alluded to a talent whose excellence we could take for granted.

Four years have passed since Life in Slow Motion, and, if anything, Gray’s new record, Draw the Line, raises the bar even higher. Sporting a new band with a fuller, richer sound than he’s managed previously (as well as guest turns from Jolie Holland and Annie Lennox), Gray has written a record that easily stands with his best work, perhaps even surpasses it. You get the feeling he knows it, too—he’s put on a full-court promotional press in advance of the record’s release (September 22), including a ton of interviews (a metric ton, actually—he’s British, after all), showcase gigs, and an appearance on Letterman, and will be returning to the U.S. this fall for a more extensive tour.

Gray was doing promo work in London when I spoke with him on the phone, about two and a half weeks before Draw the Line’s release. (more…)

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Monday, September 14th, 2009

Death by Power Ballad: Boston, “Hollyann”

by Rob Smith

Sixties nostalgia is a curious thing—make-a one man weep, make another man sing. Tom Scholz—the guitarist/mastermind/evil genius behind Seventies arena rock behemoth Boston—is one of those people for whom the Sixties never quite ended. I mean, yeah, he can see all of us with our turbo rocket backpacks and Martian girlfriends and such, and recognize it’s not 1967, but in his mind, it’s the Summer of Love, year-round, every year.

Eight years elapsed between Boston’s second and third albums—a longer period of time than the span between Please Please Me and Let It Be—and fans of Scholz and company were left to wonder what Tommy and his band of merry New Englanders were up to. Rumor had it that Scholz had joined a hippie commune and had spent the fortune he’d earned from music trying to discover the best way to rotate marijuana and rutabaga crops in upstate Massachusetts. In reality, though, he had spent the time in various other, non-hippie-related pursuits, namely a) litigation with his record company, b) developing a way to cram a Marshall stack into a box he could wear on his belt, and c) making fun of his contemporary Meat Loaf, who had gone from Bat Out of Hell to Loaf Out of Luck in just eight short years.

Alas, the period of quietude was certain to end, and end it did, in 1986, when Scholzasaurus and the mighty Boston Rawk Party finally managed to crap out Third Stage. Now, the band’s first album had been introduced to an unsuspecting world by “More than a Feeling”—a tremendous, anthemic song, don’t you agree? Don’t Look Back came out of the gate with “Don’t Look Back”—another tremendous, anthemic song. Third Stage—eight years in the making—opened with none other than “Amanda,” a tremendously schmaltzy, limp-wristed ooze of a ballad.

Boo.

Hiss. (more…)

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Monday, September 7th, 2009

Unsolicited Career Advice for … Barry Gibb

by Rob Smith

For all the correspondence from Uncle Donnie that we have on record (or in piles in Lev’s basement), it’s worth noting that he could, on occasion, fall out of touch with people.  The trick was to reconnect with those folks before they died.  Barry Gibb was one of the fortunate ones. -RS

TO: Barry Gibb
FROM: Don Skwatzenschitz
RE: Career Advice

Barry, old pal, how have you been?  It’s been so long since we last saw you at your brother Robin’s birthday party in Miami—what was it, five years ago?  Nine?  I don’t remember much about that night, but I do recall thinking the nude caterers were a bit much.  The spinach balls were lovely, though; Mitzi’s been trying to recreate them in our kitchen ever since.  I tell her the nudity had nothing to do with the quality of the food, but she never listens.

Speaking of my beloved, the other night, she was watching repeats of French television (this satellite TV gets damn near everything), and came upon a performance of “To Love Somebody” by a couple singer/songwriter types, and we got into a discussion about you.  You did such a good job on American Idol a couple years back (though I didn’t quite get the Dr. Zaius costume—was that supposed to be ironic?), yet never capitalized on it.  That’s a shame, particularly if you want to have a place at the table in pop culture these days.  With such an enormous back catalog of hits, you should be out there reminding people of your greatness, and getting new fans to bask in that greatness.  I think I can help you, if you take my advice in several key areas: (more…)

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Monday, August 31st, 2009

Death by Power Ballad: Winger, “Headed for a Heartbreak”

by Rob Smith

Everything you’re about to read is apocryphal. No proof exists that anything that follows is true. But I heard it from someone, who heard it from someone, who likely heard it from yet another someone, who should know. Here goes:

When then-Alice Cooper bassist Kip Winger met model Rachel Hunter in the late ’80s, at a party for some long-forgotten leather codpiece manufacturer, the clear blue mid-afternoon southern California sky darkened in seconds. Lightning touched down thither and yon, drifting toward the party, eventually making a rough circle around the pair about ten yards in diameter. Klieg lights materialized out of thin air, training their intense beams at the couple. Someone (probably Paul Stanley) produced a disco ball and tossed it high in the sky, where it was struck by a bolt of lightning, sending tiny shards of mirrored glass down toward them, shards that turned into sparkling glitter dust as it entered their new, unique atmosphere. The party for the long-forgotten leather codpiece manufacturer was over, but the party for Kip and Rachel had just begun.

They rented a room at the Continental Hyatt House on the Sunset Strip for a long weekend, enjoying three days of room service and round-the-clock study of the Kama Sutra, as well as free HBO. In fact, Kip was the only one of the two who left the room all weekend, on a run to the local apothecary to purchase additional 24-packs of prophylactics. (Imagine being the poor housecleaning attendant emptying that wastebasket after they checked out.) (more…)

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Monday, August 24th, 2009

Unsolicited Career Advice for … Donny Osmond

by Rob Smith

So Lev comes over to my place last week—first time he’s been around in a while. We have a few beers and watch Tiger Woods implode, split a calzone from Napoli’s, chat a bit. He gets up to leave and, almost as an afterthought, tells me he has more Uncle Donnie memos in his car. Of course, I get pissed—I would have much rather spent the afternoon reading through Uncle Donnie’s memos than watching golf. Lev probably knew that, but his TV was broken and he really wanted to watch Tiger. Whatever.

This is a recent missive Uncle Donnie sent to one particular toothy Mormon Vegas singer. Methinks there might have been ulterior motives in play, though. -RS

TO: Donny Osmond
FROM: Don Skwatzenschitz
RE: Career Advice

From one Don to another, Donny, we need to get you out there, in a real way. Twenty years since your last hit is too long. Now, I understand you might not think the public is ready for you to reemerge, but you’re wrong, Donny-Boy. Really wrong.

Right now, this very minute, I could get on the facsimile machine and book you a US tour that would take you from Utah to the Florida panhandle, up to Maine, over to California, and back to Utah again. Seventy, eighty shows. And we could do it all in around six weeks, because we’d be playing in under-utilized performance spaces: abandoned Circuit City storefronts. Not inside the stores, mind you; outside them, on the sidewalk. Guerrilla style, like those Rage Against the Machine guys. Set up, play a half hour—”Puppy Love,” “Sacred Emotion,” “Go Away Little Girl,” “One Bad Apple,” “Love Me for a Reason,” maybe a cover of something current, then “Soldier of Love,” done—then pack up and move on to the next place. We could do three or four a day, depending on the routing. Think about it. People hanging around outside abandoned Circuit City storefronts are hungry for your music, and they don’t even know it. (more…)

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Monday, August 17th, 2009

Death by Power Ballad: Jim Peterik, “Above the Storm”

by Rob Smith

This is the final entry in our DbPB salute to Jim Peterik, and it is, I admit, an odd choice for a conclusion. “Above the Storm” is not Peterik’s best ballad; truth be told, I’m not all that fond of it, certainly not as fond as I am of Survivor’s “Desperate Dreams” or their unreleased “The Love We Never Made”  demo, or of Pride of Lions‘ “Faithful Heart,” or .38 Special’s “Changed by Love,” or a score of other Peterik ballads I could have selected.

Why, then, choose “Above the Storm”? Indulge me, for a moment:

A week from tomorrow, I will have been a parent for ten years. That milestone and a recent event in my extended family got me thinking about perfectionism and parenthood, and how the twain never, ever meet. Oh, sure, I’ve had my moments. Like the time when Dylan was small and suffering from an ear infection, when I rocked him to sleep and, with that sleep, provided him some modicum of relief. I also felt pretty good recently, when he proudly showed off his new copy of the Guinness Book of World Records by showing me the entry for the woman with the world’s biggest breasts. He did this in front of his aftercare attendant, who proceeded to give him no small amount of grief before I took her aside and explained to her that the only thing funnier to a nine-year-old than boobs are farts, and if the Guinness Book of World Records could have passed gas, that’s what he would have shown me.

Truth of the matter is, I’ve screwed up, many times. All parents do. I’m going to do it again, probably as soon as I leave my office, and if not then, certainly in the next 24 hours. I’ve yelled when I should have been calm; chastised when I should have instructed; turned down an activity when I should have participated; let him down in several small ways that only occur to a parent after the fact. (more…)

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Monday, August 10th, 2009

Unsolicited Career Advice for … David Lee Roth

by Rob Smith

Unbeknownst to me and many others, Uncle Donnie was an adviser for Van Halen from roughly 1980 through ‘85, when David Lee Roth bolted the band. Apparently, he came aboard to be in charge of their concert merchandise line (including the oft-overlooked Diamond Dave dildos, in six flashy colors—suck on that, Gene Simmons) and wound up running a number of their business affairs. Not sure what led VH to part ways with Uncle Donnie, but this memo, from around ‘85, might offer a clue or two.

TO: David Lee Roth
FROM: Don Skwatzenschitz
RE: Career Advice

Dave, I know this is a good time for you. The solo EP is selling like hotcakes; you’re all over MTV; you’re on magazine covers galore. I think it’s time you consider a—how to say it?—”Jump” in your career. A quantum leap. Time to “Run with the Devil” and “Dance the Night Away” with success. “Unchain” your potential. You get my drift? If you don’t, um, “I’ll Wait.” Here are some things to consider while I’m waiting:

Leave the band. You don’t need them now; you haven’t needed them since you stopped playing Gazzarri’s for beer money; you’re not going to need them next year, nor will you in ‘88, nor will you in ‘91—do you get the picture? On and on and on, in perpetuity, David Lee Roth is Van Halen. You can pick up a garage band and make them sound great. You can pick up a group of virtuosos and make them sound better. You are the pick that strums the guitar, the stick that hits the drum, the thumb that slaps and pops the bass. Dump ‘em. Go solo, for good. (more…)

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