Although he’s known to many simply as the eccentric bespectacled guy who serves as the band leader for the CBS Orchestra on The Late Show with David Letterman, Paul Shaffer’s career has been a wide and varied one, taking him from the position of musical director for the Toronto production of “Godspell” in 1972 all the way to being the musical director and producer for the annual Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony…and, trust me, you don’t get a gig like that without some serious music street cred. Shaffer has detailed many of his experiences – with the help of David Ritz – in his newly-released autobiography, We’ll Be Here For The Rest Of Our Lives, a light and breezy trip through his life and times in which he chats about Saturday Night Live, This is Spinal Tap, and many, many more topics which would appeal to the average Popdose reader. And what luck: although his press schedule was decidedly rigorous, your pals here at Popdose managed to score ten minutes to chat with Mr. Shaffer about his book and some of the topics contained therein.
It’s great to talk to you, Paul. I’m a big fan.
Hi! Thank you. How are you?
I’m great. I just finished your book yesterday, and it’s fantastic.
Thank you!
Now, how long was the idea of doing an autobiography gestating?
Oh, you know, I’ve wanted to do one for years. Some ten years ago, I got a book deal and tried to do it. I wrote three stories up, and I just never had time to go back to it. So this time, when I was re-introduced to David Ritz, who is the A-list celebrity biographer, just a couple of years ago, he said, “If you ever want to do a book”… I thought, “Well, that’s the way to do it: do it with somebody, and that way, he has the responsibility of turning it in on time.” And we did! But we had fun together, the two of us, and he…besides doing all of the music biographies, like Ray Charles and Smokey Robinson, he also did Don Rickles. So I knew he had me covered. And he was able to get my voice down and, of course, we worked well together as well. It really was co-writing.
Rhino Records laid off a lot of people two weeks ago. Some think the company is dead, while others, including former Popdose staffer/new Rhino guy John C. Hughes, implore us to be patient. As the poet said, “Time will tell just who has fell, and who’s been left behind …” But no matter what happens going forward, I hold in my hands a box set that will become part of the awesome Rhino legacy, and further confirm that Rhino is/was one of the last great record labels.
Big Star: Keep an Eye on the Sky is the shit, that thing the fanboys have been waiting more than 30 years for. It’s the validation, the vindication. It’s the drug, so open your veins, because now when your friends look at you blankly when you mention Big Star, you can sit them down, stick this in, all 98 tracks spread over four discs, hand them the beautiful 100-page booklet that comes with the set, and wait for them to finally acknowledge you as the trendsetter that you’ve always thought yourself to be.
That booklet I mentioned is as good a place to start as any. As usual, Rhino didn’t just dig up a bunch of moldy photos and hire some hacks to write trite copy. Following opening remarks from Ardent Studios owner and producer John Fry, we’re treated to a wonderful essay by noted Memphis musicologist Robert Gordon. Gordon gives us an oversight, the crucial details of Big Star’s career, such as it was. The story begins in Memphis in 1971 with creation of the band’s original lineup of Alex Chilton and Chris Bell on guitars, Jody Stephens on drums, and Andy Hummel on bass. The brilliant first album, #1 Record, that went nowhere. The departure, and later the death of Big Star co-founder Chris Bell. The even more brilliant second album, 1974’s Radio City, that once again got lost in the music business shuffle. The fateful decision to try one more time, the result being an album, Third/Sister Lovers, so dark and so fragile, that it wouldn’t be released for four years, and then only by a label, PVC, that had little to lose. (more…)
“What’s that? You’ve named it already?” Peter Holsapple asked, attempting to share Chris Stamey’s between-songs mutterings with the audience at McCabe’s Guitar Shop in Santa Monica last Friday night. After a few more mumbles from his partner, Holsapple officially introduced the crowd to the retro condenser mic at center stage: “We’re calling her ‘Old Betty.’”
Welcome to the ramshackle, utterly charming onstage world of Holsapple & Stamey, circa 2009. Their place in the pantheon long since secure, the two indie-rock progenitors (once and, apparently, future co-leaders of the dB’s) are back on the road with nothing to prove, but a new set of amiable songs to work into the repertoire. They recently released their second album as a duo, Here and Now, on the Bar/None label; it comes a mere 17 years after they flew in the face of grunge with their beloved, stripped-down Mavericks LP. Yes, they were mavericks when mavericks were cool (before a certain Alaskan claimed the mantle) – but now they’re content to pretend, as they do on the new album’s title track, that their greatest ambition is to avoid screwing up: “If there ever was a show/We could not afford to blow to bits/We could always hire some counterfeits/To do that show.”
“Here and Now” serves as the perfect introduction to Holsapple & Stamey’s lighthearted, self-effacing duo aesthetic; indeed, if there were a market for a sitcom featuring a pair of aging rockers good-naturedly barnstorming the land – a gender-redefined, hipster Golden Girls, if you will – then “Here and Now” would be its theme song. It led off the McCabe’s concert, which also featured sterling (if shambolic) renditions of album cuts “Santa Monica,” “Early in the Morning” and “Widescreen World.” Stamey also sang Big Star alum Chris Bell’s “I Am the Cosmos,” and the duo covered Family’s prog-rock fave “My Friend the Sun,” which opens the Here and Now album.
“Our label tells us that if we sell enough copies of the new album on CD, they’ll release it on vinyl!” Holsapple enthused at one point Friday night. Holsapple & Stamey have been around long enough to see traditions like album-release orders turned on their heads; thankfully, as they’ve proved on this mini-tour, other traditions – like the sound of two friends harmonizing around a condenser mic – can always pick up exactly where they left off. (more…)
For someone who can talk your ear off, Syd Straw certainly has built an enigmatic career. After establishing her bona fides as an arty modern-rock diva during the mid-’80s, as part of the Golden Palominos collective, Straw released her solo debut Surprise in 1989 – then didn’t make another album for seven years. Her next break, following 1996’s War and Peace, was even longer: a dozen years, ending with the appearance last year of Pink Velour.
Not that Straw wasn’t working through the intervening years. Her husky, distinctive voice has made her a favorite among discerning artists and producers looking for a duet partner or backing vocalist; her list of guest credits is as long as her own discography is short. She also found work as an actress during the 1990s, and a generation of Nickelodeon-bred dorks (you know who you are) remember her as the number-fetishizing Miss Fingerwood on The Adventures of Pete and Pete.
Most of all, she has remained a beloved, influential (and eccentric) presence among fellow musicians, indie-rock scenesters, artists and literary types – always quick with a bon mot (or 10), always with her beloved dog Henry in tow, and always generous with her time and talents. (The title of this Popdose Guide was Straw’s idea, something to do with a well-connected artist who’s released just three albums in 20 years circling all the way back around from obscurity to a position just the other side of ubiquity.)
The Golden Palominos, Visions of Excess (1985) and Blast of Silence(1986)
Straw got her first exposure to the musical big time singing background vocals for Pat Benatar, but she rose to prominence with her contributions to these albums, which (like all the Palominos’ discs) featured collectives of high-profile alt- and art-rock musicians gathered together by former Feelies and Pere Ubu drummer Anton Fier. Visions of Excess was the group’s second album and its most popular, thanks to Michael Stipe’s vocals on “Boy (Go)” and “Omaha” as well as John Lydon’s on “The Animal Speaks.” It was Straw, however, who proved the real discovery on Visions; her riveting vocals came as a revelation toward the end of the set, on the tracks “(Kind of) True” and “Buenos Aires.”
Blast of Silence followed a year later and featured an utterly different sound from its predecessor; two decades on, it’s remembered as one of the albums that gave birth to the alt-country genre. Fier’s assemblage this time featured Matthew Sweet, Jack Bruce, T-Bone Burnett, Don Dixon, Chris Stamey and many others. Again, however, it was Straw who provided the most resonant contributions, including “Angels” (which she co-wrote with Fier and Peter Blegvad) and a terrific cover of Lowell George’s “I’ve Been the One.” Straw toured extensively with the Palominos during this period, enhancing her reputation as both a lead vocalist and band member, and endearing her to a vast array of alt-rock insiders who would provide her with work and comradeship for decades to come. (more…)
I’ve always been a fan of the Monkees. I watched the show when it came on the first time, and later when it was in reruns. I got most of their albums handed down to me from my brothers, and the ones I didn’t have, I got later. (Yes, even the one where the Monkees were down to just Micky Dolenz and Davy Jones.) During their initial period of popularity, there was a big scandal when it was discovered that they didn’t play their own instruments (which was kind of a crock, considering that Michael Nesmith and Peter Tork were both accomplished musicians before they joined the group). I didn’t care one way or the other. I still liked them.
This CD came out in 1992, at a time when you couldn’t swing an animal of your choice without hitting yet another tribute album. I don’t know any of these bands, which isn’t saying much. After all, if you read my site you know the kind of stuff I listen to!
Anyway, on to the music. The first song, “The Day We Fall in Love,” is done by a guy named Deacon Lunchbox who (if I remember the liner notes correctly) died before this CD was released. If you want to hear a schmaltzy romantic ballad performed by a guy who sounds like Yosemite Sam, here’s your chance!
Next we have the Monkees’ first big hit, “Last Train to Clarksville,” by Big Fish Ensemble. I don’t think it’s that great a version, but I threw it in here because just about everybody knows the song.
When you hear the name “Don Dixon,” you’re probably more likely to think of him in terms of his production career than for his accomplishments as a singer and songwriter … and for those who have thrilled to each and every album in his oeuvre, it’s starting to get really annoying. Not that there isn’t a ton of work amongst his past efforts as a professional knob-twiddler to make him legitimately legendary in his field, but there’s just so much more to the man than that. Next week, Jon Cummings and myself will be providing ample proof of that, when we perform our first collaboration and offer up The Popdose Guide to Don Dixon, but for now, I thought I’d ease you into his work by discussing the best … okay, only … single-disc anthology of Dixon’s work: the obscurely-named (If) I’m a Ham, Well You’re a Sausage: The Don Dixon Collection.
(Actually, the title makes sense … more or less … within the first 30 seconds of the album, but until then, you’re allowed to go, “What in the hell does that mean?”)
If you know Dixon’s solo work at all, then you’re probably familiar his lone semi-hit: “Praying Mantis.” (There’s a video for it somewhere, because I definitely remember seeing it on “120 Minutes” at some point or other, but apparently it’s become so obscure that it’s not even on YouTube.) The track was definitely a highlight of his Enigma-Records-era releases, but as this collection quickly demonstrates, catchy pop tunes were plentiful within the grooves of everything he released during that time period. It’s no wonder that bands like R.E.M., the Smithereens, Guadalcanal Diary, and The Connells were drawn to his production methods; Dixon himself could jingle and jangle with the best of them, having been playing along with the guys in Arrogance throughout the ’70s and early ’80s before going it solo. Indeed, a couple of the tracks which ended up on his solo records were actually Arrogance tracks … including “Praying Mantis”!
One of the great things about writing for a blog as world famous as Popdose is that the mere mention of my association with this collective of rock-blog superheroes gains me access to a world most people only dream about.
Okay, maybe it’s a world only I dream about.
Regardless, I’ve chosen to use my considerable clout not to bed French models and have all my drinks comped, but to ask some of my favorite artists for those albums that mean enough to them to be Desert Island Discs.
So, without further ado …
Peter Holsapple (dB’s founder, auxiliary member of R.E.M. and Hootie & the Blowfish):
Top five? Boy, make it hard on an old guy, would ya?
“What’s that? You’ve named it already?” Peter Holsapple asked, attempting to share Chris Stamey’s between-songs mutterings with the audience at McCabe’s Guitar Shop in Santa Monica last Friday night. After a few more mumbles from his partner, Holsapple officially introduced the crowd to the retro condenser mic at center stage: “We’re calling her ‘Old Betty.’”
For someone who can talk your ear off, Syd Straw certainly has built an enigmatic career. After establishing her bona fides as an arty modern-rock diva during the mid-’80s, as part of the Golden Palominos collective, Straw released her solo debut Surprise in 1989 – then didn’t make another album for seven years. Her next break, following 1996’s War and Peace, was even longer: a dozen years, ending with the appearance last year of Pink Velour.
The Golden Palominos, Visions of Excess (1985) and 
Blast of Silence followed a year later and featured an utterly different sound from its predecessor; two decades on, it’s remembered as one of the albums that gave birth to the alt-country genre. Fier’s assemblage this time featured Matthew Sweet, Jack Bruce, T-Bone Burnett, Don Dixon, Chris Stamey and many others. Again, however, it was Straw who provided the most resonant contributions, including 
