My victory even got some coverage from Associated Press national political writer Liz Sidoti, who wrote, “A slew of cities selected mayors …”

A win-win all around!

No question it was an exciting campaign right up to the very end, what with David Byrne dropping out of the race just one day before the election. He said it was a show of solidarity with Afghanistan’s Abdullah Abdullah, another big fat quitter, but I think he just couldn’t take the heat.

Green Party candidate Bob Marley, on the other hand, was a cool customer, never raising his voice at any of the debates or even bothering to give a concession speech Tuesday night. Then again, he’s been dead since 1981. (In case you were wondering, the “green” his party represents isn’t exactly the kind Ralph Nader supports.)

And then there’s Matt Wardlaw. Poor, poor Matthew. He didn’t take his defeat very well. He must have still been drunk when he shot me this e-mail Wednesday morning: “You must not have seen the final poll results, and apparently the steel-toed boot that I hired to kick your sorry ass out of Bootleg City went AWOL.”

Sorry, Mr. Wardlaw, but the guys I hired from Afghanistan’s Independent Election Commission say I received 99.9 percent of the votes that were cast, compared to Mr. Marley’s 33.5 percent and your -32.5 percent, so don’t get your hopes up about a recount — numbers don’t lie. People do, but not the guys from the IEC. (They told me they used the metric system.)

Mr. Wardlaw went on (and on and on) in his e-mail to say, “Nevertheless, I will be saving Mr. Marley a spot in my cabinet, and we’ll be working together, along with Mr. Byrne, to deliver a newly improved Bootleg City that all of the citizens will be able to be proud of, at long last.”

You mean your kitchen cabinet, Matthew? Because that’s the only place you’ll be stuffing Jamaica’s most famous human export, though it’s obviously not a proper resting place for the country’s ambassador of reggae.

This week’s featured bootleg is James Brown & the Soul Generals with Maceo Parker, performing at Klein Auditorium in Bridgeport, Connecticut, on November 27, 1987. It was a charity concert to benefit disabled and handicapped children, and the Godfather of Soul donated his entire paycheck for the night to the cause.

That’s how we Georgia boys roll, you see. Not that I’ve ever donated any paycheck of mine to a worthy cause, unless you count Bootleg City’s Anti-Prostitution League. It’s run by former prostitutes, but I was under the impression that it was a “fight fire with fire” sort of deal. It turns out I was wrong. (The less said, the better.)

The J.B. bootleg comes from Matt Boles, who wrote me from somewhere in the Ozark Mountains on Wednesday to say, “Well, man, I checked out the CNN. They kept talking about some bullshit election in Virginia and another in South Canada or someplace like that. But I finally saw it along the scroll, dominating exit polling data that gave the experts the ability to call you the projected winner with 10 percent of the precincts reporting.” Wow, even more national coverage!

Matt B. added, “I realized I actually did some work with that that very charity back when I was in high school. I was a freshman in college by the time this concert came around. I would like to think I could have been there. Small freakin’ world, huh?”

Yes, it is, Matt. And life is too short, which is why I’ve decided to take my vacation now. Election campaigns can really take it out of a mayor. Besides, the honeymoon always ends so quickly, which is right when the criticism begins. Who needs that kind of pressure? That’s why I’ve decided to spend my first 100 days in office out of the office this term. In my place you’ll be hearing from some other citizens of Bootleg City, like Mr. Wardlaw, as well as government-distrusting mountain man Matt Boles, the “self-proclaimed Minister of Entertainment and Fast Food” for our fair city. See you in January!

[opening jam]
[intro]
Give It Up or Turnit a Loose
Living in America
Doing It to Death
Georgia on My Mind
Get on the Good Foot
What My Mama Said
Make It Funky
There’s No Business Like Show Business
[civic announcement]
How Do You Stop
I Got the Feelin’
It’s a Man’s Man’s Man’s World
Super Bad
Take Me Out to the Ball Game
What My Mama Said [Pt. 2]
What My Mama Said [Pt. 3]
Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag
Please, Please, Please
I Got You (I Feel Good)
I Got You (I Feel Good) [Pt. 2]
Out of Sight
[outro]
[closing jam]

Before I leave the office without actually leaving office, I’ll leave you with a campaign contribution from the King of Grief. I was hoping he’d contribute cash, seeing as how he’s royalty and all, but instead he gave me a remix of Yes’s “Leave It,” as heard in the end credits of the band’s 9012Live concert:

Leave It [Hello, Goodbye Mix]

John Cale – The Streets of Laredo from Honi Soit … (1981, out of print)
Emerson, Lake & Palmer – Hoedown from Trilogy (1972)
Robbie Robertson with Leah Hicks-Manning – The Sound Is Fading from Contact From the Underworld of Redboy (1998)
Adam & the Ants – Five Guns West from Prince Charming (1981)
Babe Ruth – The Mexican from First Base (1972)
Wall of Voodoo – Morricone Themes from The Index Masters (2005)
Nick Cave and Warren Ellis – Rider Song from The Proposition [soundtrack] (2005)
Lindstrøm & Prins Thomas – Horseback from Lindstrøm & Prins Thomas (2005)
Michael Viner’s Incredible Bongo Band – Apache from Bongo Rock (1972)
Deborah Harry – Ghost Riders in the Sky from Three Businessmen [soundtrack] (1999, out of print)
Daniel Lanois – Indian Red from For the Beauty of Wynona (1993)
Sparks – This Town Ain’t Big Enough for the Both of Us from Kimono My House (1974)
You Am I – Gunslingers from Convicts (2006)
Medicine Dream – P’jilasi (World) from Mawio’mi (2000)
Grant Lee Buffalo – Lone Star Song from Mighty Joe Moon (1994)
Roxy Music – Prairie Rose from Country Life (1974)
Chris Whitley – Medicine Wheel from Soft Dangerous Shores (2005)
Hoodoo Gurus – Spaghetti Western from Magnum Cum Louder (1993)
Big and Rich – Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy) from Horse of a Different Color (2004)
Ulali – Mahk Jchi (Heartbeat Drum Song) from Music for The Native Americans [soundtrack] (1994)
The Tornados – Ridin’ the Wind from Joe Meek: The Alchemist of Pop (1963)
Penelope Houston – Buffalo Ballet from The Pale Green Girl (2004)

Folks, I’ll be the first to tell you that our last CHART ATTACK! was just a little depressing. Marky Mark? Ugh! Color Me Badd? Ugggggh! Bryan Adams? Uggggggghhhh!  Good news, though: I’m pleased to report that this week’s Top 10 is much, much better — sure, there are some mild clunkers, but the majority of these songs are absolutely fantastic. See if you agree as we attack November 3, 1973!

10. All I Know — Garfunkel  
9. Space Race — Billy Preston
8. Let’s Get It On — Marvin Gaye
7. Ramblin’ Man — The Allman Brothers Band
6. Heartbeat – It’s a Lovebeat — The DeFranco Family Featuring Tony DeFranco
5. Paper Roses — Marie Osmond
4. Half-Breed — Cher
3. Keep On Truckin’ (Part 1) — Eddie Kendricks
2. Angie — The Rolling Stones
1. Midnight Train to Georgia — Gladys Knight & the Pips

10. All I Know — Garfunkel (download)

Following the breakup of Simon & Garfunkel in 1970, Art Garfunkel removed his focus from the music business; for three years, he focused on his acting career, appearing in Mike Nichols movies such as Catch-22 and Carnal Knowledge, taught mathematics at a private school in Connecticut, and studied classical music in Europe. Finally, in 1973, he assembled a group of songwriters (what, you thought he was going to write songs himself?) and recorded songs for a new album, entitled Angel Clare. The first single, “All I Know,” was written by Jimmy Webb (the first of many Garfunkel/Webb collaborations) and was his first solo entry on the Top 10 — and by “first,” I mean “only,” though he did have three #1 hits on the Adult Contemporary charts. The song is exactly what you’d expect: musically, it’s “Bridge Over Troubled Water” minus the bridge or troubled water, and lyrically, it’s deep into Mellow Gold territory. Art’s voice sounds a touch creepy here on the original, especially any time he gets near a low note. Still, it’s quite pretty, and you really can’t go wrong with songs like these, especially ones that feature Webb’s beautiful piano. The only thing I don’t understand is why, for his first few albums, Art was only billed as “Garfunkel.” Was he concerned that if he added the “Art,” people wouldn’t know who he was? How many Garfunkels are out there, really? If he wanted to capitalize on familiarity, perhaps he should have billed himself as “& Garfunkel.”

I found a nice video of Art Garfunkel performing “All I Know” on Saturday Night Live, but it’s on a Chinese website and I can’t figure out how to embed it. Still, it’s worth a watch; the song is much more effective in this stripped-down incarnation.

9. Space Race — Billy Preston

I personally had never heard “Space Race” before this week, but if you watched American Bandstand regularly, chances are you’ll recognize it as the music played during the mid-show commercial break, from 1974 until the show’s end. It worked great for that purpose, too — a sequel of sorts to 1972’s “Outa-Space,” “Space Race” is a thick slab of instrumental funk with a fantastic groove. But here’s the thing: on American Bandstand, you never got to hear more than a few seconds of the song. At around a minute and a half, it becomes pretty clear that a better title would have been “Holy Crap You Guys, I Just Got a New Keyboard and Look at All the Cool Sounds I Can Make, Wah Wah Wah Wah!” I can’t help but wonder if this song is what inspired Daryl Dragon to buy a Casio, and that just breaks my heart. Still, I can’t give Billy Preston too much grief. Apart from having the world’s greatest afro, the man was an unbelievable talent. And who doesn’t love the hell out of “Nothing From Nothing”?

8. Let’s Get It On — Marvin Gaye

Man, what a week! “Let’s Get It On,” though not Gaye’s biggest selling single, was certainly one of his most popular, and became his first chart-topper in five years. It began as a religious song, written by Ed Townsend (who became a success with a song called “For Your Love” solely due to a 1958 appearance on American Bandstand), and was then re-written by Motown songwriter Kenneth Stover as a political anthem. Gaye recorded the demo of “Let’s Get It On” in this form:

Marvin Gaye — Let’s Get It On (Demo) (download)

Townsend protested, and insisted that the song should have a love/sexual theme (what happened to religion?), and of course, that produced the version we all adore today. It’s a shame that those opening four notes have become such a cliché in recent years, no doubt due to its appearance in commercials and Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me (among a million other movies, most likely), but when you hear Marvin belting out those lyrics with every ounce of passion in the world, it’s hard not to fall in love with it all over again. Here he is at the Montreux Jazz Festival in 1980.

I mentioned this in a previous Popdose article, but one of my favorite songs (and the first one I ever purchased on iTunes) is Shannon Lawson’s bluegrassy, fun cover of “Let’s Get It On.” We played it during the ceremony at our wedding, as we danced back up the aisle, and I think maybe only one person figured out what song it was. Gotcha, Grandma! We danced up the aisle to a song about sex and you didn’t catch it! Ha ha ha ha!

Shannon Lawson — Let’s Get It On (download)

7. Ramblin’ Man — The Allman Brothers Band

I’ve never been much of an Allman Brothers fan — I’m not much for extended noodling — so it may not surprise you that I like this song, since it doesn’t feature any of it. Instead, it’s a fine Southern rock song featuring great instrumental work by lead guitarist Dickey Betts and pianist Chuck Leavell. Included on Brothers and Sisters, the first Allman Brothers album fully recorded after the death of Duane Allman, it reached #2 on the charts, while the accompanying album hit #1. It remains the band’s only real hit, though they did reach the Top 40 on a few other occasions.

6. Heartbeat – It’s a Lovebeat — The DeFranco Family Featuring Tony DeFranco

By 1973, we’d seen massive successes from the Jackson Five, the Osmonds, and though not related, the Partridge Family. So it was only a matter of time before execs sat down and tried to figure out how else they could capitalize on the family craze. Black group? Check. Mormons? Check. What’s left? Canadian Italians, duh! See, the DeFrancos were performing in their native Ontario when someone in the business (undoubtedly seeing dollar signs) sent a photograph of the group to Chuck Laufer from Tiger Beat. Laufer flew ‘em out to Hollywood, had them cut a few demos, and before they knew it, they were the next big family sensation. No, seriously, before they knew it: the group had a fan club before they had even released a single. “Heartbeat – It’s a Lovebeat” reached #3, and the DeFrancos were shuttled all over the country to mime their hit, complete with racy, incestuous, half-naked dancing.

Just kidding. You couldn’t get any cleaner, whiter and lamer if you tried.

So after watching that video, you’ve probably surmised that this is indeed the weaker part of the Top 10 this week — although to be honest, “Heartbeat – It’s a Lovebeat” is way better than it has any right to be. I’m speaking mainly about the music behind the song; it’s somewhat dark and psychedelic, and actually sounds credible up until the chorus, when everything suddenly turns happy and hunky dory (I’d bet Laufer forced the writers to add some major chords here). Part of the musical success is due to the appearance of members of the famous “Wrecking Crew” on the recording (Hal Blaine, Larry Carlton and Max Bennett). The lyrics aren’t that terrible either, but lil’ Tony just doesn’t sound old enough to be saying them. Not that anybody cared back then, but the difference between the Jackson Five and all other kid/family groups was that Michael Jackson was one of the precious few youngsters who could credibly sing words meant for an adult.

After “Heartbeat – It’s a Lovebeat,” the DeFrancos had a couple of other Top 40 hits, but interest quickly waned and the group disbanded in 1978 — partially due to a change in producers. Their original producer, Walt Meskell, was fired after one of their songs stalled outside the Hot 100. Their record label hired producer Mike Curb to take over, who was intent on turning the DeFrancos into a cover band. The family resisted and that was essentially the end of their career. You can hear all about what it was like to be a young DeFranco in this interview with Tony — it’s actually more interesting than I thought it would be. You can also see more at the DeFranco website, and if you’re looking to buy a house in California, Tony’s your guy.

5. Paper Roses — Marie Osmond

You may be wondering why I went into all that backstory about the downfall of the DeFrancos. Part of it is because I get a kick out of filling your brain with useless (and I mean really, really useless) information. But I also thought it’s worth noting that while Mike Curb’s cover idea failed by the DeFrancos, it worked for both Donny and Marie Osmond. Curb had been directly responsible for the Osmonds’ chart success in the early ’70s, and he oversaw Donnie’s covers of songs like “Hey Girl,” “Puppy Love” and “Go Away Little Girl,” which all reached the Top 10. He used the same approach with Marie and chose “Paper Roses” — originally recorded by Anita Bryant in 1960 — as her first solo single. It peaked here at #5 (and remains her only Top 20 solo hit), but reached #1 on the Country chart.

Was that paragraph as boring for you to read as it was for me to write? I’m only trying to match the song, which makes me want to take a nice, long nap. Here’s the video, and let’s at least give credit to Marie for being absolutely adorable. Note: Popdose.com is not responsible for any seizures that might result from staring at the background of this clip.

4. Half-Breed — Cher

This song was written especially for Cher and is certainly appropriate, seeing as she is half woman, half horse. I keed, I keed! Cher is part Cherokee, and the lyrics revolved around a woman whose mother is Cherokee and father is white. Lyricist Mary Dean brought the song to the attention of Sonny and Cher’s former producer, Snuff Garrett. Garrett had been responsible for numerous hits for both the duo and Cher as a solo artist, including “All I Ever Need is You” and “A Cowboy’s Work is Never Done,” and Cher’s #1 hit “Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves.” However, Snuff quit as their producer after Bono turned down his suggestion that Cher sing “The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia” (which wound up becoming a #1 hit for Vicki Lawrence earlier in April of ‘73). Snuff held on to “Half-Breed” for a number of months, until Cher fired her next producer (uh, Sonny Bono) and returned to work with him once again. By the time “Half-Breed” hit #1 the recording duo of Sonny & Cher had disbanded.. She did promote the song on their show, however; here’s Cher in a bikini and full Native American regalia, looking kinda hot, sitting on a horse for no real reason.

3. Keep On Truckin’ (Part 1) — Eddie Kendricks (download)

Oh God, yes. On a chart already chock-full of great songs, “Keep On Truckin’ (Part 1)” gets my vote for Song of the Week. (It’s a category I made up just now.) With enough funk to make “Space Race” look like “Paper Roses,” this song allowed Kendricks to essentially give the finger to his former group, the Temptations. He had quit the group in 1971, dissatisfied with the “psychedelic soul” direction in which producer Norman Whitfield was leading the band; additionally, he wanted to record his own solo album while remaining in the group, but Berry Gordy opposed the idea. (A more clever writer could now link Eddie Kendricks to Peter Cetera, which makes my head explode a little.)

Kendricks’ solo career got off to a slow start, and the fact that the Temptations released “Superstar (Remember How You Got Where You Are)” as a direct insult to both Kendricks and David Ruffin didn’t help matters much. However, a number of his songs began attracting attention in dance and burgeoning disco clubs, and by giving them exactly what they were looking for, Kendricks scored his first (and only) #1 solo hit, followed by his #2 hit “Boogie Down” in January of 1974.

There wasn’t actually a “Part 2″ to this song; it received the “Part 1″ addition when it was edited down for single release, from eight minutes to just under three-and-a-half minutes. But the unedited version is absolutely wonderful and worth checking out above.

2. Angie — The Rolling Stones

I was in rehearsal the other day for my Acoustic ’80s gig tonight (shameless self-plug!) and I mentioned to my partner Mike that “Angie” was on this week’s chart.

Mike: I LOVE “Angie.”
Jason: Not me.
Mike: How can you not love “Angie”? It’s a beautiful song.
Jason: Mick Jagger.

There is something incredibly, incredibly annoying but Mick Jagger pronouncing the word “Angie” as “Ayyynjeh” for two or three lines and then choosing, like, three other pronunciations throughout the song. Actually, there’s something incredibly annoying about Mick Jagger in general. I guess you can see that I’ve never been a Stones fan. It seems like a lot of people are either Stones fans or Who fans, and I’m the latter. My singer may not be able to hit all the high notes anymore, but at least he doesn’t look like a caved-in ashtray with his shirt off.

Anyway, “Angie.” I did go back and listen to the song again (and again, and again), and Mike is right: it’s really quite beautiful, especially the string section and Nicky Hopkins’ wonderful piano work. I can almost — almost — ignore stupid Mick Jagger. “Angie” was the band’s first #1 since ’69’s “Brown Sugar,” a feat they’d repeat once more in their career with “Miss You,” a song I despise (primarily because of the obnoxious video, and no, Mike, you’re not changing my mind on this one, even with considering the line you love about the Puerto Rican girls).

Here’s a video of “Angie.” Am I seriously the only one who wants to punch Mick in the face every time he looks into the camera?

1. Midnight Train to Georgia — Gladys Knight & the Pips

I’m going to take a deep breath for a sec and reflect on how happy I am to end the chart with this song.

You know, with a name like “Gladys Knight & the Pips,” it’s only natural to assume the group would take a backseat to the lead singer — but in this version of the song, I’d say the Pips are every bit as important as Ms. Knight. Where would this song be without their backing vocals? They’re the support to Knight, just as she’s the support to her man, heading home with him after his dreams have fallen apart. Lyrically, I’m just torn apart by the simplicity in “I’d rather live in his world than live without him in mine.” Absolutely beautiful. It’s hard to believe that this song might have never been written were it not for one woman.

I swear it’s true: writer Jim Weatherly had been on the phone with Farrah and she mentioned she was flying home to Georgia to see her folks. Weatherly dreamed up the story of the song, using Fawcett and her then-boyfriend Lee Majors as characters, and titled it “Midnight Plane to Houston.” The song made its way to Cissy Houston; her producers asked if they could change the title to something a little more “R&B,” and so Houston (the city, not the singer) became Georgia and the plane became a train. Knight recorded the song afterward and within two months of its first Billboard appearance, it reached the #1 spot — both here and on the R&B charts. It also won the group a Grammy for Best Rhythm & Blues Vocal Performance by a Duo, Group or Chorus, and remains their most popular song. As well it should be!

You can hear Weatherly’s “Midnight Plane to Houston” demo over at Songfacts, and the Goldmine article “Hop Aboard the Midnight Train to Georgia With Gladys Knight & the Pips” is pretty much required reading. Did you know that, save for one line, Knight’s lead vocals were recorded in one take? It’s all in the Goldmine article. Check it out! I don’t know about you, but I wish that every week of CHART ATTACK! could end like this.

And that does it for this week! Will we have similar good luck next time we meet? Only one way to find out — stop by again in two weeks! Thanks for reading!

Exactly how do you build a big fancy box set out of a single disc live album from 40 years ago? Well you start by remastering the original tracks. Then you dig up five previously unreleased tracks from the Madison Square Garden shows that didn’t make the original cut, and make them your second audio disc. The sets by the show’s stellar opening acts, B.B. King, and Ike and Tina Turner, have never been released before, so you make those Disc Three.

You’ll need a DVD, so grab that footage from the Maysles brothers (who also made the tour documentary Gimme Shelter), which includes full-length versions of the five newly released Stones tracks, and some behind the scenes stuff. The songs are great, but the opportunity to see Mr. Watts interact with the donkey with whom he’d eventually share the album’s cover is priceless, and the footage of Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin backstage at the Garden is touching. Less than a year later they would both be gone. Watching the Stones and the Dead in a parking lot in San Francisco waiting for the helicopters that would take them to Altamont is simply chilling. Finally, you’ll need a book, and ABKCO have filled their 56-pager with an essay from tour photographer Ethan Russell, and the original Rolling Stone album review by the great Lester Bangs. In between all the words, publish some interesting photos, including one of the album’s original cover.

All of the pretty pictures and pithy writing in the world aren’t going to save your box set if the music isn’t there. So what about it? Does this set deliver the goods musically? Let’s see, you’ve got what was then the world’s greatest rock and roll band at the very peak of its pre-Altamont powers, and not one, but two legendary blues/r&b acts who were perhaps best known for bringing it in a live setting. Unless someone has an off night, you can’t miss. No one did.

The Stones are to be commended for always being sure to give the artists who inspired and influenced them the opportunity to be seen by a larger audience. The problem was that these opening slots were often thankless jobs. The crowd wasn’t there to see the “warm up” acts, no matter how accomplished they were, and they were often jammed onto the front of the stage in front of the Stones gear, and didn’t get the really good sound and lights, which were reserved for the headliners. I’ve personally witnessed artists like the Foo Fighters, Counting Crows, Living Colour, and Alanis Morrisette getting short shrift as Stones opening acts. Fortunately, it’s not necessary to sit next to some impatient, unappreciative dolt while listening to this collection (unless you want to), and you can really appreciate the greatness of B.B. King, and Ike and Tina Turner. With all due respect to the Stones, their sets, although too short, are a major reason to own this.

The Stones of course acquit themselves admirably. Brian Jones had been asked to leave the band, and subsequently died earlier that year, and his replacement, Mick Taylor, returned the band to their blues roots. The stakes were high. This was the Stones first U.S. tour since 1966, and the first where the crowd would actually listen to them. There’s a reason why Lester Bangs thought that Get Yer Ya-Ya’s Out was the “best rock concert ever put on record.” In those days there was a palpable sense of danger in the air (along with a lot of pot smoke) when you went to a Stones show, and that’s here in all its satanic majesty. Hopefully you’ve heard this album several hundred times and you don’t need me to explain it to you. It’s beyond explanation anyway. When you look up rock and roll in the dictionary, there should be a picture of Keith Richards at this show. I honestly can’t tell you if the remastering of the original album tracks has made a difference. This music was grungy, is grungy, and should be grungy. How’s this; it sounds good to me. Any track will do as an illustration, but “Live With Me” has that Stones swagger that we all love. Enjoy.

The first two of the previously unreleased tracks that populate Disc Two feature Mick and Keith playing the acoustic blues songs “Prodigal Son”, and “You Gotta Move.” From there the band moves quickly to the misogynist anthem “Under My Thumb,” followed by “I’m Free,” and their massive hit “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction.” Each is a strong performance that does nothing to detract from the glory of the original album. In fact, I find it kind of surprising that it took this long for these tracks to surface. There is nothing second-rate about them.

1969 was a strange, beautiful, and terrible year. As I said earlier, Brian Jones died that year. Man walked on the moon. The Beatles gave their last performance on that rooftop in London. The Woodstock Nation was born in August, and a little more than a week after these shows were recorded in New York City, died in the cold night air of Altamont, California. But Get Yer Ya-Ya’s out is not some dry historical document. It is living, breathing companion piece to one of rock and roll’s greatest tours, as undertaken by the form’s greatest practitioners.

It’s hard to dig up many details about Indian Wars. Hailing from Vancouver, these young garage punks are pretty much just getting started. As far as I know, they only have four recorded songs to their name, though a 7-inch is supposed to be coming out this month or next. Two of the songs are available below; the other two can be found on Indian Wars’ MySpace page. In addition to the four tunes, in the course of my, er, research, I also came across an interview with the band on a blog I’ve never heard of, and a couple of pictures.

With a sound and lo-fi style reminiscent of the Black Lips or the King Khan & BBQ Show, whom regular readers know I also love, this quartet of Canadians bashes out a sloppy, upbeat garage groove that’s as fun as it is fuzzy. They claim influences as diverse as the Band, George Jones and the Dead Ghosts (another Vancouver garage punk band I’ll now need to check out). But, admittedly, their music sounds about as far away from Big Pink or Nashville as you can get. They’re also enamored of such ’60s garage rock stalwarts as the Seeds and the 13th Flood Elevators, obvious influences whose vibe you can actually hear as these skate punks bash and crash their way to a glorious noise.

They used to be called Strange Hands (hence the MySpace URL), but a “rad French band” already had claims to the moniker. So they changed their name to Indian Wars. Why Indian Wars? “Because Indians are badass.” Love it.

Indian Wars hasn’t been around long, they might not last past the time it takes to listen to their entire recorded output, and they may turn into an alt-country band before the new year, but for now, I’ll take what I can get.

Indian Wars – If You Want Me

Indian Wars – Pick You Up

In the midst of all my mid-life reflection last week, I received an email from a guy I hadn’t heard from in twenty years. John* had tracked me down through the massive power of the Internet, so of course, I immediately directed him to the Basement Songs (we writers are kind of narcissistic that way). After a friendly exchange of e-mails that detailed an overview of our lives, John checked out a couple of my columns and wrote me a follow up e-mail. He told me to disregard the previous e-mail as bullshit. He then wrote one of the most confessional letters that has ever shown up in my Gmail inbox. I’m not going to go into details because his life isn’t an open book like mine (again, narcissism), but I will say that John had a rough time in the ’90s. Happily, through the love of a good woman who never gave up on him, he’s dug himself out and now leads a happier life.

I understood what he was talking about. I went through a period of months a couple years ago in which I suffered through a paralyzing depression. I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel and each day it got harder and harder to get up and face life. I, too, am lucky that I had a good woman and good friends to help me through the times and to right the course of my life. Have you ever experienced that? Have you ever tripped into the dark sides of your psyche and dragged your loved ones with you? If you haven’t been through that hell, then you, my friend, are fortunate.

Reading John’s letter and getting reacquainted with him got me thinking about the past 20 years of my life and how so much has happened to me, to him, and the world in that time. It was the week of my birthday, so I was already in reflective mood, leading me  to take down some old photo albums and begin leafing through chapters of my life.

As I sifted through pictures from kindergarten, my fifth grade football team, that ill-advised moment as a goth, old marching snapshots and memories of the our home in North Olmsted, I came upon the scrapbook I put together for Julie after we got engaged. In it were old movie stubs, programs from the plays we saw in downtown Cleveland, Peter Gabriel concert tickets, and memorabilia from a trip to Baltimore. Tucked away in the very back was a letter Julie wrote me back in ’93, a seven-page confessional I’d forgotten existed. Standing in the middle of the kitchen while music played in the background, I read that letter again, absorbing the words and the naked honesty with which Julie wrote. Once again I thought about how much has happened since I met Jules and how far we’ve come. Rediscovering that letter was one of the best surprises I received last weekend.

There was a brief period when we were dating that some questioned whether we were doing the right thing. Some friends thought we were rushing things, and I didn’t think they believed we’d last. There was never any doubt in our hearts; fate had spoken and we would always be together, through good or bad. Today, 17 years after we got engaged, I can’t imagine my life without my best friend, my wife, Julie, there by my side.

The very first time I heard Robert Plant and Alison Krauss’s recording of the Everly Brothers song “Stick With Me Baby,” I was struck by the tenderness with which Plant sang and how well his voice harmonized with Krauss’. They transformed the old rockabilly song into a prayer of devotion between two people in love who have the world questioning their actions. It sounded familiar. The fact is that Plant, an artist whose solo work I was passionate about long before I ever listened to Led Zeppelin, teaming up with Krauss, someone I’ve always associated with my wife since the first time she played me “I Will” from Krauss’s Now That I’ve Found You: A Collection, made this collaboration seem more magical than it already was.

I know that I profess my love for my wife constantly in this column, but when you are as blessed as I am you want to shout it to the world, or at least share a quiet hymn sung by two of the greatest singers in popular music.

No life, no relationship glides along without bumps in the road; sometimes a pebble, sometimes a pothole. That’s life, right? It’s what you do after the hard times, after the tears and apologies, after the healing; what you do to continue moving forward is what defines your life. My wife has a heart big enough to love me for all of my idiosyncrasies, inconsistencies and idiocies. In that way I was able to relate to my old friend John, and smile, thankful that he’d made his way through the tunnel and found light again, thanks to a woman who stuck with him.

It’s been a while since I’ve opened the great grimoire of doom and inscribed a new entry.  I’ve been busier than a kobold berserker with St. Vitus dance.  Since we last met (over brimming tankards of dark ale), a lot of new music has been released, and I’ve written up some reviews and recommendations to serve you well on your journey…

YOGA – Megafauna (Holy Mountain)

The oddly-named Yoga’s first full-length, Megafauna is one of the most compelling and unsettling records that I’ve heard in a long time. Like the first time I listened to Coil or Nurse With Wound and really “got it,” really connected and understood it. It wasn’t just noise fraught with artsy intentions; there was something decidedly emotional about it.  Mysterious chimes, drones, and bells invoke a wholly unearthly sound-world. The aggressive guitars and drums are almost secondary to all the other dimensions. Like shadows on a frost-choked landscape, Megafauna’s creepiest tracks are also the most beautiful and brilliant.

Yoga – “Fourth Eye”

BARONESS – Blue Record (Relapse)

From Georgia’s favorite sons, Blue Record is the official companion to 2007’s Red Album, and marks the debut of  Peter Adams on guitar (having replaced Brian Blickle).  With vorpal blade precision, Baroness have effectively created a sacred writ of an album — a testament to their progression and power. Blue Record contains powerhouse riffs, groovy cosmic dirges, atmospheric acoustic balladry, and total and utter badassery. A double CD version exists with some live tracks from Roadburn 2009. Get it now. Blue Record is my pick for the metal album that will show up on most “Best of 2009″ lists.

Baroness – “A Horse Called Golgotha”
Baroness – “Rays On Pinion” (live)

WRNLRD – Myrmidon (Flingco Sound Systems)

You may remember Wrnlrd from the Flingco Sound Systems “Black Box” – Myrmidon is the seventh full-length from the Virginia “horde.” Wrnrld – the only black metal band I know of that incorporates a banjo. Wrnlrd create a completely unclassifiable sound – distilled from nightmares into a bristling squall of evil. Layered with creepy vocals and crunchy guitars and recorded over six months by two different teams of musicians, Myrmidon is bursting with both dread and innovation of the genre. Strange and terrifying blasts of thorny sound that ooze, sting and leave an indelible impression on your eardrums.

Wrnlrd – “Diamond”

SHRINEBUILDER – s/t (Neurot)

At last, the long-awaited debut from doom supergroup Shrinebuilder, featuring Scott “Wino” Weinrich (St. Vitus, Hidden Hand, etc.), Scott Kelly (Neurosis), Al Cisneros (Sleep, Om), and Dale Crover (The Melvins).  It’s an amazing ride of a record. Five tightly constructed songs that reflect their collective talents. Each song is a heavy epic, hewn from sonic mind-stuff – the grizzled statesman Wino trades off riffs with Kelly, a veteran in his own right. Al Cisneros gets a lengthy passage to ruminate with a very Om-like chant during “Pyramid of the Moon.” Dale Crover drives the whole beast with chops that only being the backbone of the mighty Melvins can give you. I can only hope that there’s much more to come from Shrinebuilder. With so much going on with each member (including a full-on St. Vitus reunion for Wino!), it will no doubt be a long, hard wait for the next one. I hope to be checking them out next week in B’more. Maybe I’ll see you there.

Shrinebuilder – “Pyramid of the Moon”

The esteemed reissue masters at Rhino have chosen to commemorate this love affair between a singer and a city with a new five-disc package called, appropriately, Sinatra: New York. Four of the discs are audio CDs featuring Sinatra concerts from a variety of New York City venues. The earliest performance, on Disc One, was recorded at Manhattan Center in 1955 at an event celebrating the 20th anniversary of the Tommy Dorsey band, a group which Sinatra had famously been part of in the 1940s. Sinatra does three songs with Dorsey and the band for the occasion. The remainder of the disc was recorded at the United Nations in September, 1963. It was U.N. Staff Day, and Sinatra performed accompanied only by pianist Skitch Henderson. Among the songs that day were “I Have Dreamed,” and “My Heart Stood Still,” from the Concert Sinatra album which had been released earlier that year.

Frank Sinatra was only 55 years old when he called it quits in 1971. Somewhat predictably, he returned two years later with Ol’ Blue Eyes Is Back, and a year after that he went on tour to benefit Variety Clubs International, a children’s charity. One of the stops on that tour was at Carnegie Hall on April 8, 1974. There, Sinatra not only sang classics like “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” and “Come Fly With Me,” but dug into his then-new album for splendid versions of “There Used To Be A Ballpark” and “You Will Be My Music.” I was reminded again of Sinatra’s wonderful practice of naming the songwriters of each song that he sang. It was an endearing gesture of respect from the singer to the artists who provided his material.

Later that same year, Sinatra returned to New York City for a two night stand at Madison Square Garden. The second night, dubbed “The Main Event,” was televised. The arena was set up as it would be for a boxing match, and Sinatra, who came on stage in boxing gloves, was introduced by Howard Cosell. We get the first night here. The band that night was Woody Herman’s Young Thundering Herd, and they accompanied Sinatra on standards like “The Lady Is a Tramp” and “My Kind of Town,” and newer fare such as “Send in the Clowns,” “Let Me Try Again,” David Gates’ “If, and Jim Croce’s “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown.” The latter actually sounds pretty good when given the big band treatment. True to the nature of the event, Sinatra was in a pugnacious mood, taking shots at the tabloid journalists he’d recently done battle with in Australia, and deriding the current public taste for what he called “acid rock.” Disc Three is the weakest of the set, owing to a combination of factors, including the impersonal nature of the larger venue, and Sinatra’s apparent state of mind at the time.

The final audio disc consists of portions of two shows, one from Carnegie Hall in 1984, and a late-career set from Radio City Music hall six years later. Sinatra is for the most part found interpreting the classics. One interesting moment occurs when he expresses his disdain for “Strangers in the Night” before singing it. The Radio City show closes, as it should, with the “Theme From New York, New York.”

The real gold, though, is Disc Five, the DVD. This disc presents Sinatra at Carnegie Hall in 1980. It is a majestic performance, visually and audibly stunning, from the then 65-year-old maestro. No matter who your favorite frontman might be, Springsteen, Bono, Jagger, Vedder, or anyone else, no one has ever commanded a stage the way that Sinatra did. I had the good fortune of seeing him perform twice. The second time was late in his career and in an arena, but the first time, at a nightclub in Atlantic City in the ’70s, was simply unforgettable. All of the years, all of the experiences, all of the skills are on display in Sinatra’s performance here, and the audience is in the palm of his hand throughout. If you’ve ever wondered why Sinatra was and is seen as the epitome of cool, I recommend this DVD to you.

It’s worth noting that the sound is magnificent for each of the Carnegie Hall shows presented here. With all due respect to producer Charles Pignone, who has done a wonderful job in pulling all of this together, Carnegie Hall just sounds so good, particularly for strings, that it seems like you all you have to do is throw a mic up and hit record.

In typical Rhino fashion, Sinatra: New York is more than just music and video. In addition to the 71 previously unreleased performances here (55 on CD, 16 on DVD), there are tributes from Martin Scorcese, Tony Bennett, Yogi Berra, and Twyla Tharp. There are liner notes from the legendary writer Nat Hentoff, and essays from film director William Friedkin, official Madison Square Garden photographer George Kalinsky, Sinatra’s audio engineer Tom Young, Frank Sinatra, Jr., and even Joe and Sal Scognamillo, who owned Patsy’s, Sinatra’s favorite hangout in New York City.

I’m not particularly fond of the designation “critic.” In any event, the music here is beyond any criticism I could level. It is simply above reproach. I could quibble about how many times we have to hear “My Way,” or “I Get A Kick Out Of You,” both of which are repeated in several of the shows here, but quibbles is all they would be. Part technical skill, part inspiration, this music is all magic. Last week one of my colleagues here at Popdose was saying how much he likes Sinatra, and wondering if there are other “crooners” he should be listening to. There were lots of suggestions: Cole, Bennett, and the like. They are all wonderful artists, but the fact remains that Frank Sinatra was a giant, and we will not see his like again. This package brings it all back home beautifully.

If Kip Winger hadn’t been around to make music in the ’80s, someone would have had to invent him.

Prettier than Lita Ford, with teeth whiter than Utah, the most perfect hard rock name not ending in “Dokken,” and a gift for the kind of leering lasciviousness that sounds about as dangerous as milk (and sounds great on the radio besides), Winger entered the charts in 1988 like Wilt Chamberlain joining the NBA in 1959 — in other words, with so many unfair natural advantages that they should have created an entirely new league. Seriously, “Seventeen”? Winger was like a meticulously stubbled, hair metal version of Chuck Berry, reducing rock & roll to its key thematic components (specifically, young girls and the gross older dudes who love them) while still allowing room for a little flash. His music bore the strong scent of Velveeta, but people have been buying that shit since 1918. Other bands might have made double entendres more successfully (see: “Cherry Pie”), but none of them had the same combination of pop-grounded metal and cheerleader good looks (see: any picture of Jani Lane). If he had played his cards right, Winger could have been one of the all-time legends.

But noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

Like a lot of people who are really great at one thing, Kip Winger always seemed to be focused on doing something else. When listening to his band’s first two albums, 1988’s Winger and 1990’s Winger II: In the Heart of the Young, I was always reminded of Bill Murray in The Razor’s Edge, because they all delivered the same kind of senseless dissatisfaction derived from watching an entertainer struggle to do something besides entertain. Winger could come up with awesome hornball anthems like “Can’t Get Enough” in his sleep, and he had a way with the power ballad, as evidenced by “Miles Away” and “Headed for a Heartbreak,” but he was more interested in vaguely proggish crap like “Rainbow in the Rose.” And when grunge came to town, Winger was one of the first to abandon his strengths, loading up 1993’s Pull with songs that suggested his idea of rocking really hard was stringing together unrelated words (”Blind Revolution Mad,” “Down Incognito,” “Junkyard Dog [Tears on Stone]“). It was, to cop a phrase from my dear friend Jack Feerick, a bit sad, really.

The ’90s were terribly unkind to Winger. Not only was his band reduced to the butt of a Mike Judge gag, but his wife was killed in a 1996 car crash, and he spent the latter part of the decade releasing understandably morose-sounding records on various tiny labels while making a few extra bucks by popping up on the seemingly endless series of Cleopatra “tribute” records that helps guys like George Lynch and Steven Pearcy cover the rent during lean months. During the late ’90s, when everyone from Night Ranger to Great White was scoring deals with CMC, Portrait, and Castle, Winger stayed un-reunited, and I always thought that was for the best; the only way hair metal isn’t embarrassing for the artist and the listener is if it’s being performed with a heavy dose of irony (a la Poison after 1993) or by people who are too young to have seen Ratt on its first tour (a la Hinder). Winger took his music too seriously for the former and he was too old for the latter, and you just knew if the band got back together, he’d pen something that sounded nothing like “Seventeen” — like, say, a song cycle about American troops, which is what he did when he finally got the band back together for 2006’s Winger IV.

Well, give Winger credit, because he had the good sense to head back to his wheelhouse for the band’s new album, Karma. Much as I’ve joked about “Seventeen” being the ultimate Winger song, there’s no getting around the fact that a 48-year-old man has no business singing about sex with underage girls (not that anyone does, really, but you get the idea). To avoid unintentional comedy — or the tedium of Winger IV — the band had to take Kip’s most successful themes (wild women, hard living, hard-living wild women) and bring them into early middle age, which is kind of like building a time machine — it’s damn near impossible, and even if you can do it, the risks far outweigh the benefits.

And yet here with are with Karma, which is — and I realize I’m damning with faint praise here — the most consistent set of songs Winger has recorded. Though it lacks the delirious sugar highs of a “Seventeen” or “Can’t Get Enough,” it’s devoid of any numbing lows, and also, it doesn’t contain any dreadful Hendrix covers, with is always a bonus. At a lean ten songs and 45 minutes, it incorporates the goofy, punch-brained rock & roll you want to hear in a Winger record (opening track “Deal with the Devil” is 2:59), while also making room for a couple of the grandiose epics he wedges into every album (”Supernova” and “Witness” both top six minutes). Setting aside the inherent foolishness of a man who’s pushing 50 screaming about a girl who’s a “stone cold killer,” Karma packages most of the band’s strengths and manages to avoid its weaknesses. In all seriousness, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard an ’80s hair metal band update its sound this successfully. Of course, I’m not sure that’s something I needed to hear; even if it’s Winger’s most consistent set of songs, it can’t help but be a little less fun than their first two albums. You might appreciate the, ahem, compositional depth of these tracks, but I don’t think any of them will prompt reflexive devil horns and wagging tongues; it’s more likely that they’ll just make you want to listen to Winger or In the Heart of the Young. Which is a pretty incredible trick, when you think about it.

God doesn’t get a whole lot of face time here on Popdose – and truth be told, I’m as guilty of that as everyone else – and technically, this song is no exception. The artist who wrote it, though, Derek Webb, is somewhat of a giant within the Christian pop community. Or, at least that is my perception of him, since I don’t really have an insider’s perspective of the scene. I can see where he might be viewed as a (*adopts Tina Fey twang*) maverick for making pop records that focus on social injustice and loving thy brother rather than the tried and true method of treacly arrangements, melba toast instrumentation, and a heaping dose of “Jesus.” Webb’s 2007 album, The Ringing Bell, is a pop gem in the vein of Matthew Sweet and Neil Finn, and his 2008 EP with wife Sandra McCracken has the best song Sheryl Crow never wrote (”When the Summer’s Gone”). Dude’s got skills.

He also has balls the size of watermelons, because for his latest album, Stockholm Syndrome, Webb has raised his protest flag even higher, delivering some scorching anti-war rants. But the really strange thing about Stockholm is the sound; Webb has shelved his classic guitar pop in favor of something more, um, contemporary. Oh, let’s stop beating about the bush – it sounds like a Beck record. Cut & paste, drum machines…it’s as far removed from The Ringing Bell as possible. And in truth, it’s an effort that’s easier to like in spirit than in execution. As my best friend Tim rightfully observed, Stockholm Syndrome is one of those albums that actually sinks in better when it’s not listened to from start to finish.

And it was that way that I found a song that Webb should send to Justin Timberlake, stat.

“Jena & Jimmy” takes the discotastic simplicity of Spoon’s “I Turn My Camera On” and gives it a supercharged chorus that has Timberlake’s name written all over it. “If you give me your love, I’ll give you my love, I’ll give you my love / Gonna take one kiss to shut you up, and that will be enough.” Trust me, it sings much, much better than it reads and, Webb being Webb, he surrounds that brilliantly simple chorus with the story of a party boy trying to score with an activist. There is a bit of a disconnect with the intro – they met at an anti-war rally, but are suddenly in a club – but once Webb has them where he wants them, the story gets amusing, as she talks about constitutional rights and he keeps buying her drinks in the hopes that she’ll lighten (open?) up. Timberlake would probably rewrite those bits, since no radio programmer from here to Baghdad is touching a song that opens with a line about bringing the troops back from the war. But he would be wise to keep the chorus intact.

I can’t help but think that there is a subtext to the story of Jena and Jimmy here, that Jena is Webb and Jimmy is the music industry, eager to get him into bed but not nearly as interested in his causes. Just a thought.

Derek Webb: Jena & Jimmy