George Harrison was an intensely spiritual man, but the compilation gods have never been kind to him. His first best-of – actually a kiss-off from Apple/Capitol after he signed with Warner Bros. in 1976 – was downright insulting, with one LP side devoted not to his solo work, but to his Beatles songs. The Best of Dark Horse (1976-1989), compiled with Harrison’s participation and released in time to capitalize on the success of the Cloud 9 album and the Traveling Wilburys, was considerably more thorough in covering its timeframe; yet it failed to include the Apple hits. With Harrison now sadly gone, and his musical legacy split between two conglomerates that have not (yet) managed to merge, it long has seemed that newcomers to his music might never find a comprehensive sample of his best work in one package.
But lo, this week brings the new, “career-spanning” EMI comp Let It Roll: Songs by George Harrison … and I’m sorry to say that the wait continues.
Of course, any reduction of a long career to a single, 19-track CD is bound to be full of holes. (Though it must be said, while we’re on the subject of single-disc solo-Beatles comps, that EMI did an excellent job with Lennon Legend and even did right by Ringo with the recent Photograph set.) But Let it Roll’s inclusions (and exclusions) seem so random, its sequencing so thoughtless, that one can only wonder whether the compilers gave any consideration to (or even had much knowledge of) the arc of George’s career. That’s a sweeping accusation, I know, and I’ll be suitably embarrassed if it turns out that George himself wrote the track listing on a napkin while lying on his deathbed, or perhaps put it in his will. (Such information might be in the album credits or in Warren Zanes’ liner notes, neither of which EMI saw fit to include with review copies of the CD.) (more…)
While on a routine errand to buy a baseball mitt, Tom Petty pulled up to a stoplight and glanced over at the car waiting next to him. The other driver was uber producer Jeff Lynne. It was 1987 and Petty had been listening to George Harrison’s triumphant Cloud Nine, which Lynne had produced. So impressed was he by the sound and the songwriting of Harrison’s record that Petty had the former ELO frontman pull over in order to compliment him. Then he uttered the words that would change Petty’s life and kickstart the second phase of his career: “How’d you like to work on some songs together?”
At the time, Petty was in rebuilding mode. He and his storied band, the Heartbreakers, had just completed a world tour behind their album, Let Me Up (I’ve Had Enough).The Florida native was worn out from the constant battles with MCA, his record company, the tension within the band (in particular between Petty and drummer Stan Lynch), and just the grind of being on the road for most of the ’80s. Making matters worse, just before the tour an arsonist had burned Petty’s home to the ground. Literally, he was at a crossroads. The chance meeting with Lynne led to Petty co-writing Roy Orbison’s comeback single, “You Got It,” as well as the formation of the Traveling Wilburys, a laid back supergroup that included Petty, Harrison, Orbison, Lynne, and Petty’s old touring mate, Bob Dylan. Soon thereafter Petty and Lynne commenced on the landmark record, Full Moon Fever, Petty’s first solo recording without the Heartbreakers. (more…)
I love the new Bob Dylan album. I do. Because the older Bob Dylan gets, the more he sounds like Tom Waits. Seriously, though, Together Through Lifeis another solid, rich album. You can check out the zydeco vibe on “It’s All Good” in the mix down below. Also you’ll find some new Neil Young, some old George Harrison and a couple artists covering the Grateful Dead, including Jane’s Addiction.
Rhino has just released A Cabinet of Curiosities, the ultimate Jane’s Addiction “live, rare, and unreleased” package. A little wooden curio cabinet filled with voodoo dolls, lyrics, reproductions of old fliers, along with the discs (a regular edition in a plain ol’ cardboard slipcase will be released next month). You’ll have to supply your own eyeliner and Nag Champa incense, though.
I got into Jane’s Addiction during the heady summer of 1991 (or was it 1990?) A friend had taped Ritual de lo Habitualfor me and while at first I didn’t like “that weird LA shit,” I had to admit it was growing on me. I was having a cigarette (it may even have been a clove cigarette) and listening to side two’s centerpiece, “Three Days,” unfolding like the warm summer evening outside.
Two girls heard the music and came to my window — they crawled into my dorm room and we all sat down on my futon and got acquainted. We instantly became friends. We shared all our stories and some grass. Staying up all night talking, laughing, and playing that tape over and over endlessly. In the morning the three of us watched the sun come up and we ate waffles together. (more…)
As a consumer, viewer, and overall commentator of pop culture, I find myself looking for those dreaded paradigm shifts, those touchstone moments where I can say, “This is the moment everything changed.” After all, that gives me something to write about. In September, one of those possibly pivotal moments could occur: The entire Beatles catalog gets a remastering and deluxe re-release.
Where Elvis Presley could be considered the start of youth culture as an economic force, the Beatles are arguably the lynchpin of youth culture gaining political and cultural power. Their voice became louder than the establishment and their actions could create real change, versus the symbolism of previous movements. They were the frontline for the Flower Children as well as pop music in general, and as such, positioned themselves as the Baby Boomer generation’s social icons.
No surprise, then, that in 2009, those Boomers probably already own all the Beatles albums on CD. While some are genuinely excited that these remasters are coming, it’s easy to make a case that the same Boomers are post-double-dip, having already “upgraded” from vinyl and (ha-ha!) 8-track, and to steal a quote from Pete Townshend, they “won’t get fooled again.”
That leaves the new generation, some of which are just as ardent admirers of the Fab Four, that have learned of new ways to get their music, shiny aluminum discs be damned. For some, their copy of The Beatles Rock Band video game will be enough, while for others, those remasters need to hit iTunes or else risk complete irrelevance. For still others, the interwebs and bittorrents will give them whatever they want for the unreasonable price of $0.00. So, if a fraction of the first wave of fans bothers to buy into the upgrade, and the most recent converts have forsaken the CD format and the concept of paying for music, what does that mean?
Likely, it means that for the first time in almost a half century, the Beatles will not be the reliable cash cows they’ve always been, and the incredible force that had been Baby Boomer buying power will need to cede control to Generation Net. It’s a big statement to make, even in the face of the success of The Love Album, the Cirque Du Soleil soundtrack that mashed up the best of Bug Music, sold way above expectation and helped set the stage for this massive refurbishment. Remember that album was, in part, based upon the mash-up novelty and was, in a way, a new entity. These remasters aren’t. To hazard a guess, I’d expect the diehards are going to cherrypick what they choose to replace, further reducing the impact of the Beatles Armada.
But again, none of us win the horse races 100% of the time. I could be dead wrong and we could be ushering in yet one more massive win for Team John, Paul, George and Ringo. It’s a long, long, long time to September, but one thing’s for sure. Either way, we’ll have a lot to write about.
February 18, 1977, is a Friday. NASA’s new craft, the space shuttle, makes a test flight bolted to a 747. The flight lasts a little over two hours and reaches an altitude of 16,000 feet. In a nod to Star Trek fans, the test vehicle is called the Enterprise. Today’s Washington Post contains a story by Bob Woodward about CIA payments to King Hussein of Jordan. Secretary of State Cyrus Vance continues a tour of the Middle East and meets with Hussein, as well as the president of Lebanon. Seattle’s first Fat Tuesday carnival week celebration gets rowdy, with reports of public intoxication, public drug use, and one case of public sexual intercourse, which attracts a crowd of 100. An exhibition of paintings by Andy Warhol closes in Washington. Character actor Andy Devine, who frequently appeared in westerns, on TV, and did Disney cartoon voice-overs in a distinctively scratchy, high-pitched voice, dies at age 71. Harley Race successfully defends his NWA heavyweight wrestling title by defeating Wahoo McDaniel in Richmond, Virginia. Two Japanese astronomers discover a new asteroid, to be named 5017 Tenchi. In Uruguay, a dog is killed by a UFO.
Celebrity guests on The $25,000 Pyramid this week are Joanne Worley and John Schuck. Tonight, the spy series Hunter premieres on CBS-TV, but will be canceled after only eight episodes. (A different show with the same title will run for nine seasons on NBC in the 80s.) Also on TV tonight: The Rockford Files.
Elvis plays Columbia, South Carolina, and KISS plays Madison Square Garden in New York City. Santana and Tower of Power open a two-night stand at the Aragon Ballroom in Chicago. Al Stewart and Wendy Waldman perform in Upper Darby, Pennsylvania, and the Kinks are at Winterland in San Francisco. The Marshall Tucker Band plays Passaic, New Jersey; in 2007, the show will be released on DVD. In Cincinnati, ELO shares a bill with Steve Hillage and Gentle Giant, and Triumph plays San Antonio. Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers and the Greg Kihn Band are together for the third of four nights in Berkeley, California. After nine years in court, Neil Diamond buys the masters of his early recordings on the Bang label. (more…)
As a musician, singer, and songwriter, I am often surprised by the similarities between myself and Tom Petty. We’ve both been supremely blessed with the love of good women, the musical input and support of first-rate musicians, and the unceasing ability to stick to our guns – against almost insurmountable odds. Yep, ol’ Tom Petty and I have an awful lot in common, I like to think. He, of course, lives in a palatial estate in sunny California and, well, I just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Geico.
See, as much as I like to think that the head Heartbreaker and I are cut from the same cloth, share the same undying dedication to rock & roll (no matter how uncool that may be at the time), and walk with the same tenuous swagger that comes from having seen it all and done it all, the truth is that when they made Tom Petty, they broke the mold. And burned the cloth.
How I came to know of Tom Petty is a story I’ve told friends and will now tell you:
When I was a kid, I was already neck-deep in my love for rock & roll. As my twelfth birthday approached, I began dropping a series of not-so-subtle hints that I wanted the new Pretenders album as a gift. Over and over, I mentioned the Pretenders. When they appeared on television, I made sure to turn up the volume and yell, “Oh cool, the Pretenders!” within earshot of my parents. The last thing I wanted was for them to buy me the wrong album.
Finally, my birthday arrives and I rip into the album-shaped present that sits before me. I throw the wrapping paper on the floor and gaze at the – wait a second, this isn’t the Pretenders album. It’s Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers Damn the Torpedoes. Not wanting to hurt my parents’ feelings, I feign excitement and, once my birthday dinner is over, carry the album to my room with all the enthusiasm of a pack of Fruit of The Loom briefs.
From the moment I touched needle to wax, though, I was in love. (more…)
I’ve gotten bored with what I’ve been listening to lately, so recently I went back into my collection to dig out CDs I haven’t spun in a while, like De La Soul’s 3 Feet High and Rising, an album I haven’t listened to in at least four or five years. Hearing this excellent disc again piqued my interest for two reasons, the first being that I didn’t realize the direct influence it most likely had on my love of both Urban Dance Squad and P.M. Dawn.
Urban Dance Squad brought rock, ska, and funk to their rap, throwing together bits and pieces of sounds that didn’t seem like they’d flow as one — sort of what Prince Paul does these days. 3 Feet High and Rising is one of the first albums he produced and a starting point for his future sound collisions. Then there’s P.M. Dawn, who happen to be one of my all-time favorite groups; there are at least three or four tracks on 3 Feet High that could have fit nicely on P.M. Dawn’s 1991 debut, Of the Heart, Of the Soul and of the Cross: The Utopian Experience. With both groups the flow is pretty much the same, and even the lyrical style is similar, right down to the lines that seemingly make no sense on first listen but when broken down actually have some legit meaning.
But that’s not really the reason I’m bringing it up here. It’s because I’m wondering if there was any other album in the ’80s on which the biggest hit was track 20! 3 Feet High almost seems like a rap album from this decade, with a skit between every song (hell, they have two in a row at points), but even so, “Me, Myself and I,” a #1 rap hit and De La Soul’s only Top 40 hit (until they backed the Gorillaz on “Feel Good Inc.” in 2005), is buried all the way down at track 20.
I still think the album is excellent, despite the fact it felt like a decade had passed by the time I got to “Me, Myself and I,” but it really got me wondering if there was another track in the entire decade buried that far down on a disc. Greatest-hits and multiple-disc sets don’t count — I’m talking a single disc where the biggest hit was that far down. Hell, even just a single that was that far down on an album. Better yet, name any big hit that far down on a normal LP in any decade. It might have happened more frequently in the past decade on rap albums, but I still think it’s a pretty rare feat.
One morning, Joe Satriani woke up to 40 text messages on his cell phone. After scrolling through 40 variations of “holy schet u got ripped off,” Joe texted back his good friend (whose Internet name is Fuzzyslippers621) the following reply: “wot d feck R U talkin bout?” This went back and forth for about 15 minutes until Joe realized his cell phone was actually a phone. So he called Fuzzyslippers621 and asked in regular English, “What the fuck are you talking about?” To which his friend replied, “Haven’t you heard the new Coldplay song?” He had not, but after launching his Limewire program, he downloaded an illegal copy, waited for his iTunes player to play it, and lathered up his head for his morning shave.
The opening strains of the song were interesting, but he had no idea what all this “ripping off” business was, until …
He was stunned. There it was. An unabashedly plagiarized portion of a song he wrote years before. “How could this be?” He wondered as he carefully glided the Gillete “Fusion” razor over his grizzled pate. The more his listened to “Viva La Vida,” the angrier he got. Beads of shaving cream-infused sweat started rolling off his head. Furiously, he texted his lawyer the following message: “I wnt 2 sue.”
And so began the story of one artist’s quest to right the wrongs that had, uh, wronged … him. Right.
Joe Satriani’s claim may have merit, but if he does win in court, lawyers for artists whose work has been the inspiration for other songs that sound uncannily like the original are going to have work after listening to this mix.
My Popdose colleague Matthew Bolin started a back and forth about Satriani’s lawsuit against Coldplay, and me being the opportunist I am, decided to float a Mix Six idea I had been thinking about for a few weeks. Jeff Giles, Scott Malchus and Michael Fortes all contributed suggestions to this mix, so with that, let’s get started! (more…)
1968’s The Beatles, aka “The White Album,” is the Beatles at their most frightening: the sound of drugs, of implosion, of tension and competition. Added to that are the numerous songs which present the band at their most menacing, loaded with echo and reverb; sound collages and mumbles; the sudden bursts of vocals from Yoko Ono on “The Continuing Adventures of Bungalow Bill” and “Birthday.” A primary example is the slash and burn of “Helter Skelter,” which leaves the listener on edge as it fades out and back in, then starts to fade out again, but rushes back with a final crash, followed by the most punk moment in the history of the band: Ringo’s scream of “I’ve got blisters on my fingers!” and a final guitar slash. This song is scary enough as it is — made even more so by the claim from Charles Manson that it contained secret messages that led him to order the Tate-La Bianca murders.
Then there’s “Revolution 9,” which really isn’t a song — it’s an experimental art piece — but is spooky enough as it is, with the seemingly endless swirl of moans, crowd noises, backwards tracks, and the monotonous repetition of “number nine.” Add the rumors that it contains a secret message — that if played backwards, the “number nine” becomes “turn me on, dead man” — and you’ve got more possible chills. (As for the “dead man” rumor: yeah, it sounds a bit like that, if that was specifically what you were listening for when you played it. Otherwise, nuh-uh.)
But the track that really gets me on “the White Album” is what follows “Helter Skelter”: a track by my favorite Beatle, George Harrison. “Long, Long, Long” is, for some critics, Harrison’s high point with the group: a languid, swirling love song — possibly to God. Both the composition and arrangement are effective at keeping the listener on edge: it opens with an acoustic guitar amped to sound almost sitar-like, and doubled with a Hammond organ playing slow, Gothic triplets through a Leslie speaker to give it a swirling effect. George starts singing, double-tracked with himself — almost in a whisper, and a little behind the chord, as if he’s caught up in prayer. Then….THWACK, Ringo’s drums come in, puncturing the quiet with rolls drenched in echo. The basic structure of the song plays out a second time, then producer Chris Thomas joins in with a piano in the more forceful bridge, as at least three Georges sing in unison, almost screaming the “Oh!”’s at the end of this portion, then switch back to the creepy placidity of the verses one final time. (more…)
It’s not necessarily a bad thing to be at times, mind you, but a good smart-ass pulls it off with a modicum of grace and might give you a chuckle for it. In the music world, there are relatively few of the latter. Instead of a wink and a nod, they just about knock you unconscious and then ask if “you saw that.” You can tell one from the other by their choices in the realm of cover songs.
A word of note to anyone who is not a music nerd accidentally finding themselves at this site: a cover song is when an artist records another artist’s song, hence covering it. The term ‘remake’ fits as well. The term ’smart-ass’, at least relative to this article, refers to those who decide to go all hipster and record something that bears no relevance, charm or wit toward their own sensibility. I’m thinking of Madonna’s cover of “American Pie” or that godawful A Perfect Circle CD where the songs weren’t just reworked, they were worked over, until all that was left was roadkill disguised as tribute. Then there’s the Bluegrass Tribute to Pink Floyd’s The Wall. More notoriously, I’m thinking of the late-’50s pop songs from black artists covered by teen idol white artists because, you know, if it comes from a white guy in a sweater, the subtext can’t be about sex. Right? Pat Boone? Tutti Frutti?
Purchase this CD (Amazon)
While on a routine errand to buy a baseball mitt, Tom Petty pulled up to a stoplight and glanced over at the car waiting next to him. The other driver was uber producer Jeff Lynne. It was 1987 and Petty had been listening to George Harrison’s triumphant 
As a consumer, viewer, and overall commentator of pop culture, I find myself looking for those dreaded paradigm shifts, those touchstone moments where I can say, “This is the moment everything changed.” After all, that gives me something to write about. In September, one of those possibly pivotal moments could occur: The entire Beatles catalog gets a remastering and deluxe re-release.
As a musician, singer, and songwriter, I am often surprised by the similarities between myself and Tom Petty. We’ve both been supremely blessed with the love of good women, the musical input and support of first-rate musicians, and the unceasing ability to stick to our guns – against almost insurmountable odds. Yep, ol’ Tom Petty and I have an awful lot in common, I like to think. He, of course, lives in a palatial estate in sunny California and, well, I just saved a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Geico.
1968’s 
A word of note to anyone who is not a music nerd accidentally finding themselves at this site: a cover song is when an artist records another artist’s song, hence covering it. The term ‘remake’ fits as well. The term ’smart-ass’, at least relative to this article, refers to those who decide to go all hipster and record something that bears no relevance, charm or wit toward their own sensibility. I’m thinking of Madonna’s cover of “American Pie” or that godawful A Perfect Circle CD where the songs weren’t just reworked, they were worked over, until all that was left was roadkill disguised as tribute. Then there’s the Bluegrass Tribute to Pink Floyd’s The Wall. More notoriously, I’m thinking of the late-’50s pop songs from black artists covered by teen idol white artists because, you know, if it comes from a white guy in a sweater, the subtext can’t be about sex. Right? Pat Boone? Tutti Frutti?