Here in the Golden State we really only have two seasons: wet and dry. Okay, if you factor in mudslides, firestorms and earthquakes, we have five seasons that us Californians, um, enjoy during any given year. It’s always quite comforting on a warm October day when someone reminds you that it’s earthquake weather, or when the weather report includes how acrid the air is because there’s a fire burning out of control somewhere. Yeah, it’s not all beaches and movie stars in California, but one thing that’s always welcome here is rain. We don’t get nearly enough to supply the water needs of the state, but when it pours, there’s a kind of underlying comfort that you can flush your toilet or take an extra minute or two in the shower without the water police reminding you how much we need to conserve. Alas, the rainy season hasn’t quite started. Oh, we’ve had a few storms, but nothing that will add significantly to the snow pack in the Sierras, fill the lakes and reservoirs, or allow me to hose down the back patio without feeling guilty.
In the realm of music, though, rain has been a popular theme for decades. Sometimes it’s a metaphor for redemption, sometimes misery, and sometimes it’s not a metaphor at all — sometimes, it’s just a song about rain. So, here we go with six songs that, for me, are a not-so-subtle rain dance to the weather gods. (more…)
On November 9, to coincide with the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, PBS in New York (check your local listings for date and time in your area) will air the 60-minute documentary How the Beatles Rocked the Kremlin. The film is co-produced by WNET.ORG and London’s Blakeway Productions.
There seem to be two camps of people when it comes to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame: those who feel that rock and roll deserves a permanent place to showcase the important effect it’s has had on popular culture, and those who believe that the intention of rock music was rebellion against the mainstream; that a stuffy old shrine goes against everything the music stands for, and screw you if you don’t agree with them. I belong to the former group, partly because I’m from Cleveland, Ohio and got caught up in the hysteria of bringing the Rock Hall to the north coast, and also because I feel that there needs to be a place where people can look at rock and roll as an art and examine its history. I’ve been to the museum, and could have stayed for days marveling at Hendrix’s guitar and fragments of Keith Moon’s drum kit.
Me: You two have been making music together for nearly 40 years. What do you consider to be the secret to your success?
Yesterday was a special day in Bootleg City. Every September 10 — or “One After 909,” as some folks call it — we celebrate Beatle Day, which kicks off early in the morning with one of the fabled creatures emerging from beneath a stack of old records to poke his head into the sunlight. (”Good day, sunshine,” the Beatle always says. It’s so freakin’ adorable.) If he doesn’t see his shadow, his group’s music will finally be made available online. The problem is, he always sees his shadow. Bootleg City could really use some overcast days this time of the year.
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As you might have heard, the Beatles albums have been remastered, in a format called “CD.” (“Compact disc,” right? I owned some of those back when I had hair.) Not that you would know from this site—Popdose has done a lousy job covering this.
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During the summer of 1990, I entered the Record Exchange, my hometown indie store, to buy my first Beatles album. Hard to believe that an audiophile like myself didn’t own a single Beatles LP at all. At one time I copied a friend’s parent’s scratched up White Album on to cassette, and I once recorded the second side of 