Posts Tagged ‘Instruments’

Caught on Tape: Slash and Burn

slash[1]The interview is set for 2:00 PM. At a quarter ‘til, the black hat, cascading curls, and nose ring saunter through the management office’s front doors. The receptionist raises eyes from a computer monitor and is momentarily stuck to her chair. She fights through the inertia of awe and approaches. Her hand is extended tremulously, but Slash ignores the shake and encloses her in a friendly embrace. He sees me sitting on the couch, walks over, and shakes my hand heartily. He even apologizes for being late when he’s 15 minutes early.

This is who Slash is. He understands the importance of keeping business appointments and hugging the people who work for you. Twenty years ago, back in ’87, when he recorded Guns N’ Roses’ debut, Appetite For Destruction, he set in motion the ritual beheading of the ’80s metal hair bands. With Velvet Revolver, he has synthesized the electric blues and R&B raunchiness of the Stones and Aerosmith and almost single-handedly brought about the Renaissance of the Les Paul.

At that moment in time, he made the transition from guitar player to Guitar Player God. With the metamorphosis came perks – engorged bank accounts and burning hot stripper girlfriends. Through it all, though, one thing stayed constant: His love for the guitar. He loves playing them and talking about them, and when we finally made our way to one of the conference rooms, that’s exactly what we did.  (more…)

Death by Power Ballad: Paul Stanley, “Hold Me, Touch Me”

I’ve long had a man-crush on soft spot in my heart for Paul Stanley, Kiss’ lead vocalist and most musical member.  He’s the best singer in the band, a commanding stage presence, and his songs are the best things on every one of the dozens of albums the band has shat out since their 1974 debut (sure, Gene Simmons might claim to have written 300 unreleased songs, but they all doubtless suck, just like most of the ones that got released).  And at age 57, he can still bring it live, whether in seven-inch leather heels with Kiss, or in more modest foot apparel in his solo shows.  Check out his DVD One Live Kiss for a primer on playing great rock and roll well past what most people consider an acceptable sell-by date.  Seriously, he’s only six years younger than my father, and Dad had to give up playing to sold-out stadium audiences in his early 40s.  It’s exhausting.

Stanley’s put out two solo records in his career—1978’s Paul Stanley (part of Kiss’ stunt of releasing four solo records simultaneously) and 2006’s Live to Win.  Each has plenty to recommend it, if you’re into the kind of melodic rock on which he’s built his career.

“Hold Me, Touch Me (Think of Me When We’re Apart)” was the sole single released from the 1978 album (peaking at Number 46), and it features many of the instrumental hallmarks of the day, mainly the shimmering acoustic guitars, dead-sounding drums, anonymous background vocals, and faux strings (courtesy of something called an “Omni string ensemble,” an analog synthesizer that, coincidentally, was also responsible for powering Mork’s journey from Ork to Earth that same year).

Stanley is in his most sensitive pillow-talk voice, doubtless laying on his back in a state of repose, fingers gently playing with his own chest hair, sensitively addressing the chick he’d just met backstage six hours before:

Though I know that you are sleepin’
Girl, there’s somethin’ I must say
Though the road may wind
My love will find the way

That’s a really nice sentiment, Paul.  Certainly, this divine maiden would be charmed as all hell by your wooin’ and philosophizin’ about winding roads and such.  But she’s asleep. You acknowledge this in the first line.  She’s probably even snoring a little.  This fazes you not a bit, though, cuz you go on: (more…)

Mojo’s Cold Shot: Los Lobos, “That Train Don’t Stop Here”

Los Lobos‘ 1992 album Kiko is nothing short of fabulous. A tour de force of primitive rhythms, Latino percussion, gorgeous acoustic and muddy electric guitars, and melodic variance of epic Sgt. Pepper scale. Oh, and the album’s punctuated with baritone saxophone, not a common rock flourish, at least since about 1962.

In other words, it’s pure genius. I might argue its a top-five, all-time album, next to the likes of Exile on Main Street and the aforementioned Pepper, if one caught me  in a mood to argue such things (or held a gun to my head). It’s that good.

Part of what makes the album tick is the Lobos’ willingness to dip into whatever musical style that suits each particular song and bust out of whatever typecast that came before in their recorded repertoire. That’s not easy, especially when it comes at the expense of defying audience expectations.

Drunken mariachi (“Rio De Tenampa”),  dusty acoustic folk (“Two Janes”), countrified rock (“Reva’s House”), and a half-dozen other styles find their way on to Kiko—including rockin’ blues of the pre-Cream style.

That brings us to today’s Cold Shot, “That Train Don’t Stop Here,” proving that blues can pop up in the same old places—or where it’s completely unexpected. Songs like this say to me that the blues is a living, organic form, and not just marooned on old 78s in the Smithsonian’s humidor.

In the title of its greatest-hits compilation, Los Lobos called itself “just another band from East. L.A.” I beg to differ—regardless of the humble beginnings, this band—and record—is one for the ages.

Reblog this post [with Zemanta]

CD Review: Coconut Records, “Davy”

Coconut RecordsToo many actors turned “musicians” simply stumble through albums without much creativity or passion, depending on the fame and “talent” society has somewhat widely agreed upon to carry them from success in one outlet into success in another. Occasionally, however, some are true renaissance men/women – as we saw last week – but it can be hard to tell upon first impression.

Enter Jason Schwartzman, whose musical career dares to annoy not just because he’s known as an actor, and not just because he’s already achieved some kind of fame in the music business, but also because he’s the worst kind of celebrity, a celebrity who was born into fame. A branch on the seemingly vast Coppola family tree, Schwartzman was sucking on a silver spoon before he was even conceived.

Formerly the drummer for the now splitsville “The OC” phenom band Phantom Planet, Schwartzman has released Davy, a second album under his solo project, Coconut Records. And despite the laundry list of reasons why you might be pre-disposed to hate it, doing so only makes it easier for Schwartzman to knock you off your feet.

A short but significant 28 minutes long, Davy is a surprisingly unpretentious album of acoustic guitar and piano based pop. Scoring immediate earnest points, Schwartzman is outward about his influences (namely, the Beatles, the Beatles, and… did he mention… the Beatles?) without unbearable mimicry.

The closest Schwartzman comes to banking on his fame is in “Drummer,” an autobiographical track with a chorus that spells it all out, “I was a drummer in a band you’ve heard of,” but dismisses the statement as quickly as he mentions it, following it up with a ho-hum, “Isn’t that the way it goes?” (Not for every drummer, no, Mr. Schwartzman, but anyhow…) Beyond that line, he makes no references to his famous lifestyle, his wealth or his acting career. Schwartzman sticks to pop basics – love, family, attempts to understand life. (more…)