Posts Tagged ‘Triumph’

The Friday Mixtape: 10/2/09

The important thing to remember is that I didn’t set out to make this mix as it is.

The initial concept was to pull out the box of CDs I seldom listen to and pull tracks from them. It is not a judgment call as to why the Beasties’ Hello Nasty is down there on the Island of Misfit Toys; I just don’t listen to the album much and, if I have a yen for the Boyz, I go for Ill Communication or Paul’s Boutique. If I am in a really regressive state of mind and nostalgia has me by the nosehairs, out comes A Flock Of Seagulls (which is amazing considering how tiny my nostrils are.)

(Who am I kidding? My nostrils are HUGE.)

There are songs here that I never listen to. The dust on Orgy’s Vapor Transmissionand the Pushmonkey CD are like instant mud – just add water. Some of these tunes are fondly remembered, some barely remembered and still others come from the “what was I thinking” file, but in combination, this constitutes the strangest mix I think I’ve ever achieved and, quite rightly, I’m afraid of it.

Somebody hold me.

A Flock Of Seagulls – Wishing (If I Had A Photograph Of You) from The Best of A Flock of Seagulls (1987)

Beastie Boys – Intergalactic from Hello Nasty (1998)

Eve 6 – Leech from Eve 6 (1998)

Keats – Hollywood Heart from Keats (1984)

Leaves’ Eyes – Elegy from Vinland Saga (2005)

Limblifter – Screwed It Up from Limblifter (1995)

My Little Dog China – Eggshells from Velvis Carnival (1994)

Orgy – Fiction (Dreams In Digital) from Vapor Transmission (2000)

Procol Harum – Bringing Home The Bacon from Grand Hotel (1973)

Pushmonkey – Handslide from Pushmonkey (1998)

Sweet – Burn On The Flame from Strung Up (1975)

T Bone Burnett – The Long Time Now from The Criminal Under My Own Hat (1992)

The Screamin’ Cheetah Wheelies – Boogie King from Big Wheel (1999)

Thomas Dolby – Airwaves from The Golden Age of Wireless (1982)

Triumph – Headed For Nowhere from Surveillance (1987)

Death by Power Ballad: Triumph, “Let the Light (Shine on Me)”

Triumph was an arena rock staple in the late ’70s and through much of the ’80s, particularly in their native Canada, where they were known for their bombastic, pyro-filled shows, as well as bassist Mike Levine’s inexhaustible collection of sports apparel. They had a few gold records here in the States, and a handful of rock radio hits (“Magic Power,” “Lay It on the Line,” and the like), but never made it to the level of stardom that their countrymen Rush managed to achieve in the same period.

Unlike Rush, whose approach to music has always given the appearance of a united front, Triumph had two distinct, dichotomous camps—the guys who just wanted to rawk yer ballz off (Levine and drummer/vocalist Gil Moore) and the sensitive, progressive-minded Artiste with a capital A (guitarist/vocalist Rik Emmett). Thus, any given Triumph album—say, 1984’s pretty awesome Thunder Seven—would have its share of arena stompers (”Spellbound,” and the Zeppelinesque “Cool Down”) alongside pastoral instrumental passages (”Midsummer’s Daydream”), with an occasional what the fuck moment (”Time Canon”) tossed in for good measure.

Things got pretty ridiculous, though, by 1987, when the band belched out Surveillance. The music was a typical pastiche of the ridiculous (“Rock You Down”), the anthemic (”Never Say Never,” “Carry on the Flame”) and the instrumentally showy (”Intro: Into the Forever,” “Prelude: The Waking Dream”). The liner notes, however, attempted to tie the vast and various incongruous pieces together by attaching a literary quote to introduce each song’s lyrics. The extra percussion you heard was the sound of Aristotle, Lucretius, Alexander Pope, Blaise Pascal, and others rolling in their graves. Or perhaps they were rocking. Anyway, once you got past the pretentiousness, it was … oh wait—it was impossible to get past the pretentiousness.

Hung at the end of Side One (track 6 on the CD), “Let the Light (Shine on Me)” cut through the band’s literary aspirations with a beautiful, steadily building anthem to persistence and commitment. It truly stands as one of Triumph’s more … um … triumphant moments. (more…)

Basement Songs: Triumph, “Fight the Good Fight”

In the world of Canadian major-league rock and roll, if Rush are the Toronto Blue Jays and April Wine are the single ‘A’ Vancouver Canadians, Triumph would be the triple ‘A’ Ottawa Lynx: Three decent musicians good enough to make it to the bigs who never put up good enough numbers to stay in the show. The musical equivalent of Crash Davis. They did have one really good season, though: the release of Allied Forces in 1981. Who couldn’t relate to the story of the girl who pulls the covers over her head in hopes that the DJ’s going to play her favorite song in “Magic Power”? I was that kid.

Yet, in ‘81, I was caught up in the Journey Escape PR. The only person I knew who owned Allied Forces was a kid named Pat Lopriore, one of the coolest, nicest kids in the school. Unfortunately, an after-school fist fight we had (which ended with me getting pantsed by some taunting kids and a humiliating, tear-filled walk home) severed any close bond the two of us might have had. Moreover, back then you lived with an album until you knew every nuance of your favorite songs. It would be a couple years before I convinced my folks to let me join the Columbia House Record Club and I began to understand that music could be a disposable commodity (because, really, who actually gets Sammy Hagar Live 1980 unless it comes free with seven other albums?). I played Escape until the record needle began to gag each time it came close to the vinyl. After that, I dove right into The Kinks’ State of Confusion. It wasn’t until the seventh grade that I began to appreciate Triumph’s formulaic mainstream rock and roll. It wasn’t “Magic Power” that I played over and over, though. It’s the song that opens side two of Allied Forces, “Fight the Good Fight,” that still affects me and makes me feel 13 again. (more…)