For much of his solo career, it was Paul McCartney’s peculiar fate to seem perpetually in need of a creative comeback. Chafing against the impossibly high standard he set for himself with his Beatles work, Macca required three years of wilderness-wandering and band-building to make his first Important Album, 1973’s Band on the Run. After that, he forced fans to suffer through nine years of steadily diminishing qualitative returns before finally (if only briefly) winning a Tug of Warwith mediocrity in 1982.
And so on, and so on …
By 1989 McCartney faced a new and unexpected challenge: restoring his commercial viability. Even such moribund albums as Wild Life and London Townhad Top-Tenned during the 1970s despite critical drubbings, but the disastrous film and soundtrack Give My Regards to Broad Streetin 1984 seemed to mark a tipping point in the public’s willingness to consume products of patchy quality just because they had the Macca seal of approval. In 1986 McCartney released the Hugh Padgham-produced, thoroughly modern (and not-half-bad) album Press to Play, only to watch it stall at Number 30 on the Billboard album chart and become his first long-player to fall short of gold-record status.
To his credit, McCartney responded with a retrenchment, getting back to his roots and recording the Choba B CCCPalbum of rock ‘n’ roll standards for release only in the Soviet Union in 1988. Even as that record (initially released only on vinyl) became a sought-after item in the West as an import, word began circulating that McCartney was in the studio with Elvis Costello, and the prospect of their collaboration goosed interest in both men’s forthcoming albums.
The first fruits of their combined labor appeared on Costello’s Spikealbum in early 1989, which featured the most delightful Top-20 single ever written about Alzheimer’s, “Veronica,” as well as the rockabilly throwaway “Pads, Paws and Claws.” Meanwhile, McCartney announced that he would embark in the fall on the biggest tour of his solo career – and his first since his 1979 arrest at the Tokyo airport, on marijuana-possession charges, led to the final breakup of Wings. (more…)
F. Scott Fitzgerald once famously declared that there are no second acts in American lives. It’s a good thing that the Bee Gees aren’t American, then, because they’ve had at least two very distinct acts in theirs: In the ’60s, they were pop princes, scoring one hit single after another. Then they seemed to go quiet for a few years, and you couldn’t have been blamed for thinking they were done. Suddenly, they re-emerged as the kings of disco in the late ’70s. Saturday Night Fever hit, and the rest is history. The second act, from a purely commercial perspective, was even bigger than the first.
When Odessa (Reprise Records/Rhino) was released in February 1969, the stereo format was still a rather recent phenomena. Many bands, including the Beatles, didn’t spend a lot of time concerning themselves with stereo mixes. They were something of an afterthought. For example, the stereo mixes for Sgt. Pepper were done in two days after the recording was finished, and the Beatles had left the studio.
On the other hand, great care was taken with the mono mixes. Since recording was for the most part done on four-track machines in those days, the mixing was done as the recording went on. Since there was only one speaker, great care was taken with the placement of the various sounds in the mono field. If you’ve had a chance to hear the the mono mixes of Sgt. Pepper, unavailable in the U.S. for years, you know what I mean.
Stereo was the new thing, however, and Americans got a steady dose of bad, sometimes absurd stereo versions of recordings that had really been intended to be heard in mono. One such album was the Bee Gees’ sixth album (fourth released internationally), Odessa. I have provided a little bit of recording history because the lavish 40th anniversary reissue of Odessa marks the first time that the crucial mono mixes have been available in the U.S.
While Odessa provides a wonderful musical experience, the original album is just as often remembered for its packaging. The double album came wrapped in a red flocked cover. Shortly after its release, it was alleged that workers at the plant that was making the covers were suffering from allergic reactions to the flocking, and the beautiful cover was discontinued. Subsequent reissues came in a more traditional sleeve, and in 1976, RSO Records edited the work down to a single LP, and put it out in a traditional cardboard sleeve.
Thankfully, Reprise remembers the original, and they have enrobed the new three-disc CD in the same red flocking that graced the original release. It’s not their fault that the prevalent format has changed to CD, making the package smaller than the grand LP format, but it’s a beautiful little box, worthy of the music contained within.
Speaking of music, maybe I’d better get to it. (more…)
So you say that your finances are under more pressure than Rod Blagojevich and you still have gifts to buy for the holidays? Join the club. When you think about it, books make a really sensible gift. In addition to providing hours of pleasure for your loved ones, they cost very little in the scheme of things, and with online discounters like Amazon offering free shipping for orders over $25, well, it’s somewhat of a no-brainer. I completed most of my list last week by spending less than ten minutes online, and the order arrived at my door two days later. No malls. No lines. No parking nightmares.
This year there are a lot of good book options for the music lovers in your life. None of the books that appear here cost more than $30 on Amazon, and most are considerably less expensive. There are coffee table books, and interesting biographies. Know someone who is not that interested in music? I’ve provided some good choices for them as well, with a couple of excellent novels, a wise and witty look at the first colonists of this country, and a biography of one of the pre-eminent journalists of the last half-century.
The books are listed in order of genre, not preference. Without further ado, here are my gift choices.
It’s good to have friends, and Q has a lot of them. Before his own recollections even begin, there are introductory valedictories from the likes of Oprah Winfrey, Bono, Clint Eastwood, and Maya Angelou. This beautifully put together volume provides extraordinary access to a man who has been at the forefront of the music business for decades, working with everyone from Frank Sinatra to Michael Jackson. There are private notebooks, correspondence, and photographs, along with reproductions of report cards, track sheets, and accounting ledgers. (more…)
Dan Wilson (Trip Shakespeare, Semisonic, solo artist)
Okay Darren, here are my picks! I’m sure if I thought about it more I’d only come up with a bunch more bonus picks, so I’m sticking to these.
Joni Mitchell’s Hejira album. If it were one song I’d say “Hejira” — there’s something so heartbreaking about Jaco Pastorius’ bass melodies intertwining with Joni’s lyrics. And the song is about love, travel, the temporary fixes of modern life, and the quest for something lasting. What more could you ask for in a song? (more…)
It’s a little disgusting when you think about how much talent these guys had. But I’ve come up with a surefire way to make myself feel less envious: I repeat “Their best work was behind them by the time they reached 30″ over and over again until I fall asleep, or until someone on public transportation tells me to shut up — whichever comes first — and suddenly I’m all better. See if it works for you.
Over the past two weeks Bootleg City has revisited Big Star’s first two albums. In college I had a poster that showed the Big Star “family tree,” listing all the bands they influenced in the ’80s and ’90s (Let’s Active, the Posies, Matthew Sweet, etc.) as well as bands who influenced them, with the Beatles right at the top. But then, who haven’t the Beatles influenced? They changed pop music forever. They were the biggest band that ever was and ever will be. They created all-time classic songs in the time it’s taken me to write this tiny amount of text. They– … deep breath … their best work was behind them by the time they reached 30, your best work is still ahead of you, their best work was behind them by the time they reached 30, you should actually do some work instead of looking for ways to criticize musical legends– hey, subconscious, you’re supposed to be on my side!
Okay, Mix Six fans, if you’re also a reader of the Pop Politico posts you’ll know that I’m not a gun advocate when it comes to home defense. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t “cross the aisle,” light up a big Cuban cigar, throw some meat on the BBQ, and celebrate Guns! Guns! Guns! So here we go with a mix that’ll make you want to either shoot some guns in happiness, or run for cover! Also included are some memorable movie clips for some .44 caliber fun.
“Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down),” Nancy Sinatra
Sure you probably remember this from the Kill Bill Vol. 1, but how many versions have you heard with Terminator dialogue mashed in to the intro? You’re welcome. (more…)
On March 8, 2008, the Rutland Times reported the breathtaking news that the world and elsewhere would soon be privy to something quite remarkable: “Rutlemania! The Tribute Concert.” Even more impressive to fans of the Prefab Four, however, was the announcement that the famed Mods & Rockers Film Festival would be handling the official 30th-anniversary celebration of the Rutles on March 17, with Dirk (Eric Idle), Nasty (Neil Innes), Ricky Fataar (Stig), and John Halsey (Barry) all in attendance for a screening of the original 1978 version of The Rutles: All You Need Is Cash, the 1975 British TV skit that inspired the film, Rutles-related footage from Saturday Night Live, and highlights from the 2003 film The Rutles 2: Can’t Buy Me Lunch.
Damn. I really wish I could’ve been there for that.
Fortunately, David Haber from WhatGoesOn.com was there, and provided two separate reports over at his website, one a general summary and the other focusing specifically on the Rutles’ first full reunion performance ever. Better you should go there yourself rather than allow me to cannibalize all the good stuff here, but let’s just say that any event that can draw an audience that includes Andy Summers, Jeff Lynne, Aimee Mann, Michael Penn, Stephen Bishop, Howard Kaylan of the Turtles, producer extraordinaire Peter Asher (who was also half of Peter & Gordon), Emo Phillips, Marcia Strassman, and Dan Castellaneta was clearly the place to be that night.
If you’re a Beatles fan who’s never heard the genius parody that is the Rutles, you’re really missing out. It’s a fair assessment to suggest that 90 percent of all power pop is unabashedly derivative of the works of John, Paul, George, and Ringo, and plenty of comedians have taken the world’s most famous Liverpudlians and had a laugh at their expense, but few have done such an exquisite job of it and gotten the blessing of the members themselves to boot — well, three-quarters of them, anyway. George actually made a cameo in the original film; as for the others (if we can trust Wikipedia’s word on the matter), Ringo liked the happier scenes but felt the ones that mimicked the sadder times in the band’s career hit too close to home, while John loved the film so much that he refused to return the videotape and soundtrack he was given for his approval, warning Neil Innes that “Get Up and Go” was too close to “Get Back” and to be careful so as not to be sued by Paul. This might explain why Macca always said “no comment” when asked of the film at the time of its release, as well as Innes’s remark that Sir Paul “had a dinner at some awards thing at the same table as Eric one night, and Eric said it was a little frosty.”
Well, fair enough, you can kind of understand that. It’s fine and well for us to have a laugh at it all, but then, we didn’t live it. George was around for much of the planning of the original film, but according to producer Gary Weis, even the Quiet One got a bit testy at one point, snapping, “We were the Beatles, you know!” Moments later, however, he shook his head and said, “Aw, never mind.”
My grandfather loved his guitars. He listened to old Hank Williams Sr. records, a bit of Les Paul and Mary Ford, and a smattering of Hawaiian music, all to hear what was happening on the fretboards. Williams stuck to strummed chords, Paul overdubbed, sped up and slowed down his jazz licks to possessed proportions and the Hawaiians always knew their way around the pedal steel. As far afield as these tastes ran, there was a definite common denominator, so the fact that Pop loved “Oh Babe, What Would You Say?” by Hurricane Smith was even more confusing.
For starters, this hit single sounds nothing like the rest of Smith’s output, the sort of music you would expect from the early 1970s. It is a throwback to Big Band Hit Parade panache, with a swinging string section worthy of Nelson Riddle and an up-front sax that complements, not kills, the tune. Secondly, Smith’s voice is treated with an echo-back bounce more in line with David Bowie and John Lennon than Cab Calloway and Louis Armstrong. None of this seemed to make sense in Pop’s collection. What gives? (more…)
Grammy week is upon us, and I couldn’t be less excited. I used to live for the Grammys during the early part of the year, just like I lived for the Oscars and the Golden Globes — even though the Grammys are traditionally even more artistically bankrupt than the Globes. Most likely anybody who stumbles across Popdose can name at least a dozen past Grammy travesties right off the top of your head, so I won’t go into them here. (OK, but just a few, and all from the glory years of 1988-89: Jethro Tull getting Best Hard Rock/Metal Performance; DJ Jazzy Jeff & Fresh Prince beating Public Enemy for the first Best Rap Performance trophy, and off camera at that; Milli Vanilli, of course.) But this year is special: It’s the first in memory that I couldn’t give a damn who wins any of the major categories, or indeed any award that’s likely to be handed out during the televised ceremony.
Sure, plenty of artists I like are nominated, but unless you’re rooting like mad for either an Amy Winehouse recovery speech or an Amy Winehouse train wreck — or, perhaps, both over the course of the evening — is there much of anything to root for at all? Are we supposed to hope the Foo Fighters win all the awards that the Chili Peppers didn’t win last year? Are we supposed to cheer for “Umbrella,” a terrific song that nonetheless doesn’t really seem like Song/Record of the Year material? Or are we supposed to hope Kanye West wins Album of the Year so he doesn’t once again pitch a fit over being shunned in the top categories? Zzzzzzzzzz…
And what’s up with that Album of the Year category, anyway? Herbie Hancock’s Joni Mitchell tribute? Really? And, yeah, Vince Gill made a virtuoso five-album set that showed off his multifaceted talents, but what impact did it have? Where’s Radiohead, or Arcade Fire, or the White Stripes? Where’s the Robert Plant/Alison Krauss album? Where’s Springsteen, for God’s sake? (He’s never won this category.) Where’s Daughtry? (more…)
Their last record as a true “band.” Full of experiments, sonically and musically. They are one of my all-time faves. “Respectable Street” has one of the most amazing guitar riffs.
By 1989 McCartney faced a new and unexpected challenge: restoring his commercial viability. Even such moribund albums as Wild Life and London Town had Top-Tenned during the 1970s despite critical drubbings, but the disastrous film and soundtrack Give My Regards to Broad Street in 1984 seemed to mark a tipping point in the public’s willingness to consume products of patchy quality just because they had the Macca seal of approval. In 1986 McCartney released the Hugh Padgham-produced, thoroughly modern (and not-half-bad) album Press to Play, only to watch it stall at Number 30 on the Billboard album chart and become his first long-player to fall short of gold-record status.
F. Scott Fitzgerald once famously declared that there are no second acts in American lives. It’s a good thing that the 
On March 8, 2008, the Rutland Times reported the breathtaking news that the world and elsewhere would soon be privy to something quite remarkable: “
My grandfather loved his guitars. He listened to old Hank Williams Sr. records, a bit of Les Paul and Mary Ford, and a smattering of Hawaiian music, all to hear what was happening on the fretboards. Williams stuck to strummed chords, Paul overdubbed, sped up and slowed down his jazz licks to possessed proportions and the Hawaiians always knew their way around the pedal steel. As far afield as these tastes ran, there was a definite common denominator, so the fact that Pop loved 
