Posts Tagged ‘Keith Richards’

CD Review: The Rolling Stones, “Get Yer Ya-Ya’s Out” 40th Anniversary Edition

The Rolling Stones - Get Yer Ya-Ya's OutJust when you start to think that Rhino is the only company that knows how to do the box set thing, along comes ABKCO Records with their entry in the definitive statement sweepstakes. In this case the statement in question is in regard to the classic live Rolling Stones album Get Yer Ya-Ya’s Out from 1969.

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. (more…)

Infinite Play: The Rolling Stones, “Let It Loose”

2158f0cdd7a03742aec58110.L._SCLZZZZZZZ_[1]Last week, I took the redeye back from Vegas while still slightly hung over from a blowout the night before. I hadn’t fully recovered a few days later, but that didn’t prevent me from stopping by my regular hangout. I decided to join Giles and Asregadoo on Bourbon Street, and was two sips into my first Knob Creek when I realized I was in the mood for Exile on Main Street by the Rolling Stones. I guess recapping the events of a weekend in Sin City for the staff was the closest I get to that album’s stoned-out decadence.

Unfortunately, the otherwise excellent jukebox lacks this particular masterpiece, and had to wait until I was done for the night when I could crank it up on the journey home. But I didn’t realize that my iPod was set on Shuffle, so after “Rocks Off,” I didn’t get the breathless rush of “Rip This Joint,” but rather “Let It Loose.”

Some albums hit you on first listen. Others remain outside your grasp for years no matter how many times you keep coming back to them. Then, one day, it all starts to make sense, opening up worlds you never thought existed. Exile is one of those albums. I knew “Tumblin’ Dice” and “Happy” from classic rock radio, but, like most double albums, it was too sprawling. The other albums the Stones put out in that period, Beggars Banquet, Let It Bleed, and Sticky Fingers, were more accessible, more compact. Even worse was a muddy mix that made most of Mick Jagger’s vocals unintelligible. I could only pay it lip service, repeating what others had said about it, for fear of losing my credibility. (more…)

Rock Court: The People vs. Eric Clapton

Rock Court

For the prosecution: Mojo Flucke, Ph.D.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the prosecution will prove that Eric Clapton has committed numerous crimes against rock, namely:

• Making music way more derivative than legally permissible for a rock god
• Exploiting fans by releasing milquetoast pap
• Squandering monstrous talent

Clapton is not God, contrary to the Islington graffito proclaiming it during his tenure in John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers. He is, however, an excellent blues mimic, taking compositions like Robert Johnson’s “Crossroads,” William Bell and Booker T. Jones’ “Born Under a Bad Sign,” and for Mayall, Freddie King’s “Hideaway.” He can derive like few others on earth, in a musical milieu where creatively covering other compositions is the best way to connect with the audience.

Yet great blues musicians contribute at least one or two original compositions–or the definitive interpretation of someone else’s song–to the canon of blues standards. B.B. King has “The Thrill Is Gone” and “Every Day I Have the Blues.” Junior Wells, “Messin’ With the Kid.” John Lee Hooker, “Boogie Chillen’,” “Boom Boom” and “One Bourbon, One Scotch, and One Beer.”

Clapton’s got nothing. “Layla” is known for its innovative coda written by Domino Jim Gordon and a legendary main riff written and co-performed by Duane Allman. “Sunshine of Your Love” was co-written by all three members of Cream. Its undisputedly legendary guitar solo opens not with an original Clapton-improvised phrase, but the melody from “Blue Moon.”

Left to his own devices, Clapton churns out total dreck. There’s a lot to choose from; I’ll keep it brief by offering the “greatest whiffs” from three different decades: (more…)

CD Review: Son Volt, “American Central Dust”

Son Volt - American Central DustOnce upon a time there was a pioneering Americana band from Belleville, Il. called Uncle Tupelo. Two of the founding members of the band were Jeff Tweedy and Jay Farrar. The band recorded three albums for a local indie label, and when they were signed by Sire Records, they expanded the trio (which included Mike Heidorn) to a five-piece. Sadly, the relationship between Farrar and co-songwriter Tweedy was deteriorating faster than the band’s fortunes were rising. Just before the release of Uncle Tupelo’s first major label album, Anodyne, Farrar decided he was leaving. The band broke up in 1994. Farrar formed Son Volt, and everyone else formed Wilco.

It’s inarguable that Wilco has received the lion’s share of the spotlight in the intervening years, and I’ve often wondered how that must make Jay Farrar feel. But Son Volt has made some terrific albums, and stayed out on the road through it all, except for a three-year period when Farrar pursued a solo career. There have been a lot of lineup changes, but the one constant, Farrar, soldiers on. (more…)

Dw. Dunphy On… Drawing

There was a period of time during junior high and high school when I was convinced music wouldn’t be a part of my life. I couldn’t afford to get a guitar or a keyboard, I didn’t have the outsize personality the other rock kids had, and I found it terribly difficult to put across my ambitions to even the few people I entrusted with my goals. I focused more on the possibility of going into comics. Just as some of my earliest recollections are of songs, I also have an undiminished affinity for Charlie Brown and the Peanuts gang. In those high school years my attention was fixed on the artist Al Williamson, whose superrealistic, detailed style was so perfect in the notorious EC science-fiction comics of the late ’50s and early ’60s. In my mind, his work on Marvel’s adaptation of The Empire Strikes Back and his subsequent work on the Star Wars newspaper strip are the epitome of great comic book art.

In the past month I’ve been rooting through the boxes in my attic, looking at the stuff I’ve squirreled away up there over the years. I came upon a small cache of drawings, paintings, and such, gave them a once-over, and decided maybe it was a good idea to bring them downstairs and get some quality scans together, just to have a decent record of their existence. I doodle from time to time, but my dreams of being in the business of comics are long gone. This is partly due to the quality of what’s out there, specifically the writing. In the past two decades Neil Gaiman, Alan Moore, and Frank Miller have made that once unimaginable leap from the “funny books” to honest-to-God literature, and they didn’t even have to change their addresses. With the often funny but deeply felt Bone saga, Jeff Smith made a brilliant epic out of something that might have been relegated to a goofy kids’-comic limbo at one time. And then there’s Jon J. Muth’s insanely awesome adaptation of Fritz Lang’s M. Each example not only deserves space on the snootiest of bookshelves, but some deserve to kick a few warhorses off those shelves just for breathing room.

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