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No music, no life: Top 10 music docs of the decade

February 1, 2021 Dennis Hartley Leave a comment

By Dennis Hartley

(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on January 30, 2021)

Without music, life would be a mistake. – Friedrich Nietzsche

After 11 months of hunkering down, I’d imagine “Netflix fatigue” is setting in for some (you know…when you spend more time scrolling for something “interesting” than actually watching anything). Buck up, little camper… there are still many worthwhile films-you just need to know where to look. With that in mind, I’ve combed my 2011-2020 review archives and picked out the 10 top music docs of the decade. If music be the food of love, play on!

Big Star: Nothing Can Hurt Me – Founded in 1971 by singer-guitarist Chris Bell and ex-Box Tops lead singer/guitarist Alex Chilton, the Beatle-esque Big Star was a anomaly in their hometown of Memphis, which was only the first of many hurdles this talented band was to face during their brief, tumultuous career. Now considered one of the seminal influences on the “power pop” genre, the band was largely ignored by record buyers during their heyday (despite critical acclaim from the likes of Rolling Stone).

Then, in the mid-1980s, a cult following steadily began to build around the long-defunct outfit after college radio darlings like R.E.M., the Dbs and the Replacements began lauding them as an inspiration. In this fine 2013 rockumentary, director Drew DeNicola also tracks the lives of the four members beyond the 1974 breakup, which is the most riveting (and heart wrenching) part of the tale. Pure nirvana for power-pop aficionados.

Gimme Danger – Well it’s 1969 OK, all across the USA/It’s another year for me and you/Another year with nuthin’ to do/Last year I was 21, I didn’t have a lot of fun/And now I’m gonna be 22/I say oh my, and a boo-hoo (from “1969” by The Stooges)

They sure don’t write ‘em like that anymore. The composer is one Mr. James Osterberg, perhaps best known by his show biz nom de plume, Iggy Pop. Did you know that this economical lyric style was inspired by Buffalo Bob…who used to encourage Howdy Doody’s followers to limit fan letters and postcards to “25 words or less”? That’s one of the revelations in Jim Jarmusch’s 2016 cinematic fan letter to one of his idols.

Jarmusch is a bit nebulous regarding the breakups, reunions, and shuffling of personnel that ensued during the band’s heyday (1967-1974), but that may not be so much his conscious choice as it is acquiescing to (present day) Iggy’s selective recollections (Iggy does admit drugs were a factor).

While Jarmusch also interviews original Stooges Ron Asheton (guitar), and his brother Scott Asheton (drums), their footage is sparse (sadly, both have since passed away). Bassist Dave Alexander, who died in 1975, is relegated to archival interviews. Guitarist James Williamson (who played on Raw Power) and alt-rock Renaissance man Mike Watt (the latter-day Stooges bassist) contribute anecdotes as well.

A few nitpicks aside, this is the most comprehensive retrospective to date regarding this influential band; it was enough to make this long-time fan happy, and to perhaps enlighten casual fans, or the curious. (Full review)

Heart of a Dog – I love Laurie Anderson’s voice. In fact, it was love at first sound, from the moment I heard “O Superman” wafting from my FM radio late one night back in the early 1980s. It was The Voice…at once maternal, sisterly, wise, reassuring, confiding, lilting, impish. Hell, she could read the nutritional label on a box of corn flakes out loud…and to me it would sound artful, thoughtful, mesmerizing.

It’s hard to describe her 2015 film; I’m struggling mightily not to pull out the good old reliable “visual tone poem”. (Moment of awkward silence). Okay, I blinked first…it’s a visual tone poem, alright? Even Anderson herself is a somewhat spectral presence in her own movie, which (like the artist herself), is an impressionistic mixed media mélange of drawings, animations, video, and even vintage super 8 family movies from her childhood.

You could say that Death is Anderson’s co-pilot on this journey to the center of her mind. But it’s not a sad journey. It’s melancholy and deeply reflective, but it’s never sad. (Full review)

Janis Joplin: Little Girl Blue – In Amy Berg’s 2015 documentary, we see a fair amount of “Janis Joplin”, the confident and powerful cosmic blues-rocker; but the primary focus of the film is one Janis Lyn Joplin, the vulnerable and insecure “little girl blue” from Port Arthur, Texas who lived inside her right up until her untimely overdose at age 27 in 1970.

“She” is revealed via excerpts drawn from an apparent trove of private letters, confided in ingratiating fashion by whisky-voiced narrator Chan Marshall (aka “Cat Power”). This is what separates Berg’s film from Howard Alk’s 1974 documentary Janis, which leaned exclusively on archival interviews and performance footage. Berg mines clips from the same vaults, but renders a more intimate portrait, augmented by present-day insights from Joplin’s siblings, close friends, fellow musicians, and significant others.

Despite undercurrents of melancholy and sadness and considering that we know going in that it is not going to have a Hollywood ending, the film is surprisingly upbeat. Joplin’s intelligence, sense of humor and joie de vivre shine through as well, and Berg celebrates her legacy of empowerment for a generation of female musicians who followed in her wake. On one long dark night of her soul, that “ball and chain” finally got too heavy to manage, but not before she was able to wield it to knock down a few doors. (Full review)

Linda Ronstadt: The Sound of My Voice – Ronstadt (and that truly wondrous voice) is the subject of this intimate 2019 documentary portrait by directing tag team Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman (The Celluloid Closet, Howl, Lovelace). The film is narrated by Ronstadt herself (archival footage aside, she only appears on camera briefly at the end of the film).

Bad news first (this is a matter of public record, so not a spoiler). While Ms. Ronstadt herself is still very much with us, sadly “that wondrous voice” is not. In 2012 she was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease (she mentions in the film that it runs in her family), which has profoundly affected her ability to sing. That said, she remains sharp as a tack; in turns deeply thoughtful and charmingly self-effacing as she reflects on her life and career.

For those of us “of a certain age”, Ronstadt’s songbook is so ingrained in our neurons that we rarely stop to consider what an impressive achievement it was for her to traverse so much varied musical terrain-and to conquer it so effortlessly at each turn.

What struck me most as I watched the film is her humility in the wake of prodigious achievement. I don’t get an impression the eclecticism stems from calculated careerism, but rather from a genuine drive for artistic exploration. (Full review)

Miles Davis: Birth of the Cool – Few artists are as synonymous with “cool” as innovative musician-arranger-band leader Miles Davis. That’s not to say he didn’t encounter some sour notes during his ascent to the pantheon of jazz (like unresolved issues from growing up in the shadow of domestic violence, and traumatic run-ins with racism-even at the height of fame). Sadly, as you learn while watching Stanley Nelson’s slick and engrossing 2019 documentary, much of the dissonance in Davis’ life journey was of his own making (substance abuse, his mercurial nature). Such is the dichotomy of genius.

Produced by George Martin – While no one can deny the inherent musical genius of the Beatles, it’s worth speculating whether they would have reached the same dizzying heights of creativity and artistic growth (and over the same 7-year period) had the lads never crossed paths with Sir George Martin. It’s a testament to the unique symbiosis between the Fabs and their gifted producer that one can’t think of one without also thinking of the other. Yet there is much more to Martin than this celebrated collaboration.

Martin is profiled in this engaging and beautifully crafted 2011 BBC documentary. The film traces his career from the early 50s to present day. His early days at EMI are particularly fascinating; a generous portion of the film focuses on his work there producing classical and comedy recordings.

Disparate as Martin’s early work appears to be from the rock ’n’ roll milieu, I think it prepped him for his future collaboration with the Fabs, on a personal and professional level. His experience with comics likely helped the relatively reserved producer acclimate to the Beatles’ irreverent sense of humor, and Martin’s classical training and gift for arrangement certainly helped to guide their creativity to a higher level of sophistication.

81 at the time of filming, Martin (who passed away in 2016) is spry, full of great anecdotes and a class act all the way. He provides some candid moments; there is visible emotion from the usually unflappable Martin when he admits how betrayed he felt when John Lennon curtly informed him at the 11^th hour that his “services would not be needed” for the Let it Be sessions (the band went with the mercurial Phil Spector, who infamously overproduced the album). Insightful interviews with artists who have worked with Martin (and admiring peers) round things off nicely. (Full review)

Ryuichi Sakamoto: Coda – There’s a wonderful moment of Zen in Stephen Nomura Schible’s 2018 documentary where his subject, Japanese composer Ryuichi Sakamoto, after much experimentation with various “found” sounds, finally gets the “perfect” tonality for one single note of a work in progress. “It’s strangely bright,” he observes, with the delighted face of a child on Christmas morning, “but also…melancholic.”

One could say the same about Schible’s film; it’s strangely bright, but also melancholic. You could also say it is but a series of such Zen moments, a deeply reflective and meditative glimpse at the most intimate workings of the creative process. It’s also a document of Sakamoto’s quiet fortitude, as he returns to the studio after taking a hiatus to engage in anti-nuke activism and to battle his cancer. A truly remarkable film.

The Theory of Obscurity – As defined in The Theory of Obscurity: a film about The Residents (and by the artists themselves) the Residents are not a “band” …so much as they are an ongoing art installation.

In his 2016 film, Director Don Hardy Jr. took on the unenviable task of profiling a band who have not only refused to reveal their faces in any billed public appearances over a 40-year career but continue to this day to willfully obfuscate their backstory (and the fact that publicity is handled through their self-managed “Cryptic Corporation” puts the kibosh on any hopes of discovery).

Attempting to describe their music almost begs its own thesis-length dissertation; it’s best understood by simply sampling it yourself. Just don’t expect anything conventional. Or consistent; they are experimental in every sense of the word.

The Residents have been more musically influential than one may assume; members of Devo, Primus, Ween and the Talking Heads are on hand to testify as such. I was a little surprised that Daft Punk isn’t mentioned, especially since they literally wear their influences on their sleeves (well, in this case, their heads). While The Residents are not for all tastes, Hardy has fashioned an ingratiating, maybe even definitive, portrait of them. (Full review)

The Wrecking Crew – “The Wrecking Crew” was a moniker given to an aggregation of crack L.A. session players who in essence created the distinctive pop “sound” that defined classic Top 40 from the late 50s through the mid-70s. With several notable exceptions (Glen Campbell, Leon Russell and Mac “Dr. John” Rebennack) their names remain obscure to the general public, even if the music they helped forge is forever burned into our collective neurons.

This 2015 documentary was a labor of love in every sense of the word for first-time director Denny Tedesco, whose late father was the guitarist extraordinaire Tommy Tedesco, a premier member of the team.

Tedesco traces origins of the Wrecking Crew, from participation in co-creating the legendary “Wall of Sound” of the early 60s (lorded over by mercurial pop savant Phil Spector) to collaborations with Brian Wilson (most notably, on the Beach Boys’ seminal Pet Sounds album) and backing sessions with just about any other chart-topping artists of the era you would care to mention.

Tedesco has curated fascinating vintage studio footage, as well as archival and present-day interviews with key players. You also hear from some of the producers who utilized their talents. Tedesco assembled a group of surviving members to swap anecdotes…and they have got some great stories to tell. Tedesco’s film is a celebration of a unique era of popular art that (love it or loathe it), literally provided the “soundtrack of our lives” for some of us of a (ahem) certain age. (Full review).

Behind the Music, Documentary, On Music

Stars ‘n’ Bars: Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets (½) & The Go-Gos ()

August 3, 2020 Dennis Hartley Leave a comment

By Dennis Hartley

(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on August 1, 2020)

“That’s the problem with drinking, I thought, as I poured myself a drink. If something bad happens you drink in an attempt to forget; if something good happens you drink in order to celebrate; and if nothing happens you drink to make something happen.”

— Charles Bukowski, from his novel Women

You have likely heard the cliché that the Inuits have 50 words for “snow”? This is, of course, not 100% true. What we have here, is failure to communicate. What we do have here is a case of “polysynthesis” …which means that you have a base word (in this case, “snow”), which is then attached to many different suffixes which change the meaning. In this context, people of the north have hundreds of ways of describing snow (I know. This sounds like something the drunk at the end of the bar would say…stay with me).

Anyone who has ever spent a few hours down the pub knows there are as many descriptive terms for “drunks” as there are for “snow” . Happy drunks, melancholy drunks, friendly drunks, hostile drunks, sentimental drunks, amorous drunks, philosophical drunks, crazy drunks…et.al. You get all the above (and a large Irish coffee) in the extraordinary, genre-defying Sundance hit Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets.

Co-directed by brothers Turner and Bill Ross, the film vibes the “direct cinema” school popularized in the 60s and 70s by another pair of sibling filmmakers-the Maysles brothers. It centers on the staff and patrons of a Las Vegas dive bar on its final day of business. At least that is the premise I bought into hook, line, sinker, and latest issue of Angling Times. It was only after I saw it that I discovered this little tidbit via IndieWire:

Except that in reality, that bar is still open, it’s in New Orleans, and the patrons gathering for one last hurrah were cast by the filmmakers Turner and Bill Ross.

As Johnny Rotten once said, “Ever feel like you’ve been cheated?” Sheepishly, I read on:

The night before the film premiered to rave reviews at Sundance, the Ross Brothers sat down, at a bar over beers, for a 70-minute interview with to discuss how they made “Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets” and the inevitable questions they knew it would unleash. From the Ross Brothers’ perspective, this, their fifth feature film that has everyone at Sundance talking, is simply the natural evolution of their process as filmmakers.

“With our first film we cast a broad net, we spent 100 hours and a year of life with people until we realized you could fish, how you could wait for these moments, find these moments, and then as we got further and further along, how can you can feed a situation where you create a dynamic situation that might be conducive to what you are looking for,” said Turner. “And we’ve gotten further along into this fifth feature. Well actually can we create a dynamic scenario where we could provoke or create situations where we might elicit these authentic found moments we’re looking for.”

That their work has been embraced and supported by the part of the documentary community that sees nonfiction filmmakers more as artists using form than documentarians practicing journalism, has given the brothers a supportive community and place in the filmmaking world. The flip side is that it’s an association that puts them on one side of the increasingly useless binary of nonfiction vs. fiction that defines most film festivals, and that their latest film confounds.

I hadn’t felt this much like a dunce since the night I happened onto Zak Penn’s Incident at Loch Ness while channel-flipping and got sucked into what I assumed was an obscure Werner Herzog documentary about the Loch Ness monster that I had somehow missed. I had no idea it was a mockumentary until the credits. Hook, line, sinker, and fake Nessie.

My bruised ego aside, I rather enjoyed Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets (whatever the hell it “is”). Populated by characters straight out of a Charles Bukowski novel, the film works as a paean to the neighborhood tavern and a “day in the life” character study. It is also a microcosm of human behavior, infused with all the alcohol-induced bathos you’d expect.

“Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets” is now playing via SIFF’s Virtual Cinema platform.

Here are 2 fun facts I learned watching Allison Ellwood’s rock doc The Go-Gos. I never realized they were the first all-female band who wrote their own songs and played their own instruments to have a #1 album (I suppose that says something about the music biz that it took until 1982 for that precedent to be set?). I had also assumed they are inducted in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. They are not (WTF?) That shows how much I know.

The band has also been overdue for a feature-length career retrospective; Ellwood’s film offers an absorbing portrait of the groundbreaking quintet’s rise, fall and resurrection(s).

The film begins with their D.I.Y. roots in the burgeoning L.A. punk scene of the late 70s, and goes on to recount the shuffling of various personnel that eventually settled into the now-classic lineup of lead vocalist Belinda Carlisle, rhythm guitarist and vocalist Jane Weidlin (both original co-founders) guitarist-keyboardist and backing vocalist Charlotte Caffey, bassist Kathy Valentine, and drummer Gina Schock.

The doc does play like a glorified episode of “VH-1’s Behind the Music” at times, with the inevitable tales of bruised egos, backstage squabbles, drug addiction (and don’t forget rehab!)…but hey, that’s rock and roll. It’s nice to see the band recognized for their talent, influence and perseverance (hard to believe they have been around for 40 years). It’s also inspiring to see them together and producing new songs. They’ve still got the beat, baby!

“The Go-Gos” is now playing on Showtime cable and VOD.

On Music, On Politics

Reelin’ in the years: A mixtape (and a tribute)

July 27, 2020 Dennis Hartley Leave a comment

By Dennis Hartley

(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on July 25, 2020)

In my 2009 review of Ang Lee’s Taking Woodstock, I wrote:

“If you can remember anything about the sixties, you weren’t really there”. Don’t you hate it when some lazy-ass critic/wannabe sociopolitical commentator trots out that old chestnut to preface some pompous “think piece” about the Woodstock Generation?

God, I hate that.

But I think it was Paul Kantner of the Jefferson Airplane who once said: “If you remember anything about the sixties, you weren’t really there.” Or it could have been Robin Williams, or Timothy Leary. Of course, the irony is that whoever did say it originally, probably can’t really remember if they were in fact the person who said it first.

You see, memory is a funny thing. Let’s take the summer of 1969, for example. Here’s how Bryan Adams remembers it:

That summer seemed to last forever
and if I had the choice
Yeah – I’d always wanna be there
Those were the best days of my life

Best days of his life. OK, cool. Of course, he wrote that song in 1984. He’d had a little time to sentimentalize events. Now, here’s how Iggy Stooge describes that magic time:

Well it’s 1969 okay.
We’ve got a war across the USA.
There’s nothing here for me and you.
We’re just sitting here with nothing to do.

Iggy actually wrote and released that song in the year 1969. So which of these two gentlemen were really there, so to speak?

“Well Dennis,” you may be thinking (while glancing at your watch) “…that’s all fine and dandy, but doesn’t the title of this review indicate that the subject at hand is Ang Lee’s new film, Taking Woodstock? Shouldn’t you be quoting Joni Mitchell instead ?”

Patience, Grasshopper. Here’s how Joni Mitchell “remembers” Woodstock:

By the time we got to Woodstock
We were half a million strong
And everywhere there was song and celebration

She wrote that in 1969. But here’s the rub: she wasn’t really there.

There was a point in there, somewhere. Somehow it made sense when I was peaking on the ‘shrooms about an hour ago. Oh, I’m supposed to be writing a movie review. Far out, man.

2020 has been quite a year; the kind of year that gets memorialized in song. Actually, with five months still to go (survive?), somebody already has memorialized 2020 in song:

New Year’s Eve, don’t it seem
Like decades ago?
Back in 2019
Back when life was slow

Now it’s June, we’re just halfway done
2020, hey are we having fun?
How many years will we try
To cram into one?

You thought we’d be living 1918 again
But we messed that up so bad
God had to toss 1930 in

As the sun rose on 1968 this morning
A tweet from the john
Please let’s not add the Civil War
How many years will we cram into one?

Oh boy
How much more will she take?
Boys, hope you enjoy
Your beautiful tax break

We’re not repeating history, just the parts that sucked
2020, what the actual fuck?
Pray we get through, but hey don’t hold your breath
‘Cause there’s plenty left to wreck
We got six months left

How many years
How many years will we try
How many years will we try
To cram into one?

— Ben Folds, “2020”

Do you see what he did there? Since we are still ensconced in “2020” (and all it implies) I think it’s safe to confirm Ben Folds is really there, in 2020-right along with the rest of us. And if I may add…I think Mr. Folds has written the best pop elegy for 2020 (in ¾ time!). Since first hearing it last Thursday on The Late Show, I must have watched this 25 times:

It got me thinking (which is always dangerous) about other songs I love with a year as the title…or in the title. So here are my top 10 picks, presented chronologically (how else?!).

“Hilly Fields (1892)” – I was hooked on this haunting, enigmatic song from the first time I heard it on a Bay area alt-rock station in 1982 (it was either KTIM-FM or KUSF-FM; I used to listen to both stations religiously when I lived in San Francisco in the early 80s). It sounded like the Beatles’ Revolver album, compressed into three and a half minutes. The artist was Nick Nicely, an English singer-songwriter who released this and one other song, then mysteriously vanished in the mists of time until reemerging with a full album in 2004 (which was basically a compilation of material he had accumulated over the previous 25 years). He’s since put out several albums of new material, which I have been happily snapping up.

“Paris 1919” – This lovely chamber-pop piece by Velvet Underground alum John Cale is from his eponymous 1973 album, which I think is his finest song cycle. Obviously I wasn’t alive in 1919, but when I close my eyes and listen, Cale’s evocative lyrics make me feel like I’m sitting in a sidewalk cafe somewhere in Europe between the wars:

The Continent’s just fallen in disgrace
William William William Rogers put it in its place
Blood and tears from old Japan
Caravans and lots of jam and maids of honor
Singing crying singing tediously

Efficiency efficiency they say
Get to know the date and tell the time of day
As the crowds begin complaining
How the Beaujolais is raining
Down on darkened meetings on Champs Elysee

“1921” – Got a feeling ’21 is gonna be a good year… Great track from the The Who’s classic 1969 double-LP rock opera Tommy, with nice vocals from Pete Townshend.

“1969” – From The Stooges’ debut album…

Last year I was 21
I didn’t have a lot of fun
And now I’m gonna be 22
I say oh my and a boo hoo

I get a sense that 1969 was not Iggy’s happiest year.

“1979” – The Smashing Pumpkins’ 1996 single was a sizeable hit for the band. It’s an autobiographical song written by front man Billy Corgan about coming of age in the ‘burbs (he was 12 in 1979). Sense memories of hanging with his buds; the restlessness of budding adolescence. I see it as an update of Gerry Goffin and Carole King’s “Pleasant Valley Sunday”.

Creature comfort goals, they only numb my soul
And make it hard for me to see
Ah, thoughts all seem to stray to places far away
I need a change of scenery

— from “Pleasant Valley Sunday”

That we don’t even care, as restless as we are
We feel the pull in the land of a thousand guilts
And poured cement, lamented and assured
To the lights and towns below
Faster than the speed of sound
Faster than we thought we’d go, beneath the sound of hope

— from “1979”

“1983 (A Merman I Should Turn to Be)” – This trippy magnum opus was a highlight of Jimi Hendrix’s classic double-LP, Electric Ladyland.

“1984” – Spirit’s ominous song, like its literary inspiration by George Orwell, never seems to lose its relevancy. In fact, in light of very recent events, you could easily rename it “2020”:

Those classic plastic coppers, they are your special friends
They see you every night
Well they call themselves protection but they know it’s no game
You’re never out of their sight

1984
Knockin’ on your door
Will you let it come?
Will you let it run?

“Nineteen Hundred and Eighty Five” – It’s tough to pick a favorite from Wings’ finest album (it’s a strong set) but I’ve always had a soft spot for this one. I wouldn’t call it Sir Paul’s finest lyrical moment (I just can’t get enough of that sweet stuff my little lady gets behind) but McCartney has such a genius for melody and arrangement that I am prepared to forgive him.

“1999” – Mommy…why does everybody have a bomb? Good question; I yearn for the day it no longer needs to be asked. In the meantime, this Prince classic IS the bomb. I’ll never tire of it.

“In the Year 2525 (Exordium and Terminus)” – Look in the dictionary under “one-hit-wonder”, and you will see a picture of Zager & Evans. Love it or hate it, if man is still alive, if can woman can survive– I bet this song will still be playing somewhere in the year 9595. In case you’re wondering, Evans passed away in 2018, and Zager now builds custom guitars.

(One more thing) RIP Peter Green

I was dismayed to learn this morning about the passing of English musician Peter Green, one of my guitar heroes. Most obits are noting that he wrote “Black Magic Woman”…but that is just a minor part of his significance in the rock ‘n’ roll pantheon.

An expressive player and distinctive vocalist, the original Fleetwood Mac co-founder was also a master at creating memorable riffs:

While he could obviously rock out with the best of them, he also crafted music of incredible beauty and subtlety; perhaps none more so than the classic Mac instrumental, “Albatross” (which was acknowledged by the Beatles as inspiration for the Abbey Road track “Sun King”).

If pressed for a favorite Green track, I usually cite “Before the Beginning”, a heartrending slow blues number from Fleetwood Mac’s excellent 1969 album Then Play On:

Sadly, Green struggled with drug dependency and mental health issues for most of his life, but his influence and musical legacy is assured…as evidenced by tributes from his peers:

Most sadly have lost one of the most tasteful guitar players ever I have always been a huge admirer of the great Peter Green may he rest in peace.

— Peter Frampton (@peterframpton) July 25, 2020

(from “Before the Beginning”)

But how many times
Must I be the fool
Before I can make it
Oh make it on home
I’ve got to find a place to sing my words
Is there nobody listening to my song?

Rest assured, Mr. Green…I will be listening always. RIP.

On Music

Energy, Space, and Time: RIP Ennio Morricone

July 6, 2020 Dennis Hartley Leave a comment

By Dennis Hartley

(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on July 6, 2020)

I often use the same harmonies as pop music because the complexity of what I do is elsewhere.

— Ennio Morricone

Well, this is embarrassing. When I heard the news this morning that film composer Ennio Morricone had passed away, my initial thought was “Wait…isn’t he already gone?” I quickly came to my senses and realized I was conflating him with film director Sergio Leone, who passed away in 1989. That gaffe either demonstrates that a). I’m a tad slow on the uptake, or b). The names “Leone” and “Morricone” are forever enmeshed in the film buff zeitgeist.

Of course, if I’d really been paying attention I would have noticed that his score for Quentin Tarantino’s 2015 western The Hateful Eight was an original one; perhaps I could be allowed some leeway of willful ignorance, based on Tarantino’s history of “re-appropriating” some of Morricone’s music that was originally composed for Leone’s films back in the 60s and 70s.

While he was unarguably most recognized for collaborating with fellow countryman Leone on genre classics like A Fistful of Dollars, For a Few Dollars More, The Good, the Bad, & the Ugly, Once Upon a Time in the West, and A Fistful of Dynamite (aka Duck, You Sucker!) that is not to imply that spaghetti westerns were Morricone’s raison d’etre.

Indeed, he worked with a bevy of notable film directors, like Bernardo Bertolucci (1900, Luna), Roman Polanski (Frantic), Terrence Malick (Days of Heaven), Pedro Almodovar (Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!), Brian De Palma (The Untouchables, Casualties of War), Samuel Fuller (White Dog), even John Carpenter…a director known for also taking on the scoring duties for his films, didn’t pass up a chance to work with the maestro (The Thing).

Morricone’s music was burned into my neurons before I had even seen any of the films he scored. When I was a kid, my parents had one of those massive, wood-finished stereo consoles with built-in AM-FM tuner, turntable and speakers. One of my favorite albums in my parents’ collection was this one, by Hugo Montenegro and his Orchestra:

I remember strategically planting myself dead center (for that maximum “360 Stereo” effect). “Hut, two, three, fo! Hut, two, three, fo! Ah-ah-ah-ah-aaah, wah-wah-waaah…” I was riveted.

Something about Morricone’s music captured my imagination. I guess it was…cinematic.

That’s the beauty of Morricone’s art; you can appreciate it as a film buff, as a music fan-or both. That was evident from reactions on social media, like Yo-Yo Ma’s lovely tribute:

I'll never forget the way Ennio Morricone described music as “energy, space, and time.” It is, perhaps, the most concise and accurate description I’ve ever heard. We'll truly miss him. This is the Love Theme from "Cinema Paradiso." #EnnioMorricone pic.twitter.com/kpbkodhHrh

— Yo-Yo Ma (@YoYo_Ma) July 6, 2020

With an embarrassment of riches to pick from (60 years of score credits to his name), this may be a fool’s errand, but here are 10 of my favorite Morricone soundtrack compositions:

On Music, On Politics

Now We See the Light: A Mixtape

June 15, 2020 Dennis Hartley Leave a comment

By Dennis Hartley

(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on June 13, 2020)

Hey you know something people
I’m not black
But there’s a whole lots a times
I wish I could say I’m not white

— Frank Zappa, “Trouble Every Day”

It has been an interesting week here in Mayberry (the one with the Space Needle).

As the Seattle Police Department works to broker a deal with protesters occupying an autonomous zone in the heart of Capitol Hill, a Seattle City Council member said the area known as “CHAZ” should remain in community control permanently.

The Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone, known as “CHAZ,” has been in community control since Tuesday when Seattle Police Chief Carmen Best decreased the officers’ presence in the East Precinct to allow for peaceful protests.

Seattle Councilwoman Kshama Sawant called the “CHAZ” movement a major victory. She said the area should be turned over permanently into community control, instead of back in the hands of the Seattle Police Department.

Sawant said she plans to create legislation to turn the East Precinct into a community center for restorative justice. The councilwoman wants to discuss the legislation with people involved in CHAZ, black community organizations, restorative justice, faith, anti-racist, renter organizations, land trusts, groups, labor unions that have a proven record of fighting racism.

Most of my heroes don’t appear on no stamps
Sample a look back you look and find
Nothing but rednecks for four hundred years if you check
Don’t worry be happy
Was a number one jam
Damn if I say it you can slap me right here
(Get it) let’s get this party started right
Right on, c’mon
What we got to say (yeah)
Power to the people no delay
Make everybody see
In order to fight the powers that be

— Public Enemy, “Fight the Power”

Yes, I live in a blue city chock full of Marxists and dirty Hippies. Few cities are “bluer” than Seattle. We have have a weed shop on every corner. We have public statues of Jimi Hendrix and V.I. Lenin. We have a progressive, openly gay female mayor. We have a female African American police chief. We have a high-profile female city council member who is a Socialist Alternative. As Merlin once foretold-a dream for some…a nightmare for others:

Seattle Mayor says, about the anarchists takeover of her city, “it is a Summer of Love”. These Liberal Dems don’t have a clue. The terrorists burn and pillage our cities, and they think it is just wonderful, even the death. Must end this Seattle takeover now!

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) June 12, 2020

Oh, dear. Let’s take a peek at the terrorist-fueled burning and pillaging that has been raging in Seattle’s Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone for the past week (sensitive viewers be warned):

The humanity. Not quite as harrowing as a Burning Man festival…but in the ballpark.

My insufferable facetiousness aside, there is in fact a “revolution” happening in Seattle right now; and on streets all over America. “Revolution” doesn’t always equate “burning and pillaging”. Granted, some of that did occur when the protests started two weeks ago.

There’s something happening here
What it is ain’t exactly clear
There’s a man with a gun over there
Telling me I got to beware
I think it’s time we stop, children, what’s that sound
Everybody look what’s going down

— The Buffalo Springfield, “For What It’s Worth”

But there is something happening here; something percolating worldwide that goes deeper than that initial visceral expression of outrage over the injustice of George Floyd’s senseless death; it feels like change may be in the offing. It will still take some…nudging. And I fear some feathers may get ruffled.

It isn’t nice to block the doorway,
It isn’t nice to go to jail,
There are nicer ways to do it
But the nice ways always fail.

— Malvina Reynolds, “It Isn’t Nice”

So it is in that spirit that I say come gather ’round, people-wherever you roam, and give a listen to my mixtape of 15 protest songs…some old, some newer, but all as timely as ever.

Alphabetically…

Green Day – “American Idiot”

The Temptations – “Ball of Confusion”

Public Enemy – “Fight the Power”

The Buffalo Springfield – “For What It’s Worth”

The Wailers – “Get Up, Stand Up”

The Specials – “Ghost Town”

Malvina Reynolds – “It Isn’t Nice”

Stevie Wonder – “Living For the City”

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young – “Ohio”

The Beatles – “Revolution”

Gil Scott-Heron – “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised”

Bob Dylan – “The Times They Are A-Changin’”

Frank Zappa & the Mothers of Invention – “Trouble Every Day”

Marvin Gaye – “What’s Goin’ On”

The Clash – “(White Man) In Hammersmith Palais

On Music

Rave on, rave on..St. Patrick’s Awesome Mixtape

March 17, 2020 Dennis Hartley Leave a comment

By Dennis Hartley

So this St. Patrick’s day is going to be a little weird, right? On this commemoration of the day that Saint Patrick drove the snakes into the sea, the snakes have *possibly* returned (in a roundabout way) to bite us all on the ass. Bars and restaurants are closed, public health authorities are (wisely) advising “social distancing” to help thwart spread of the Covid-19 virus (so parades are right out), the kids are home from school…and you’re considering taking up day drinking. Be strong. Don’t go there yet. Wait until dusk.

Meantime, take a breather. Turn off the news for 30 minutes, kick back, brew a nice cup of chamomile tea (OK…with just a splash of Dead Rabbit, as long as the kids aren’t looking) put in the earbuds and enjoy some fine music imported from the Emerald Isle.

Guest Post, On Music

CD review: The Who Live at Hull 1970

March 14, 2020 Dennis Hartley Leave a comment

By Bob Bennett

Note: Bob Bennett is a long-time friend and fellow Who fanatic who shared a few thoughts with me in an email regarding his first spin of The Who Live at Hull 1970, a 2-CD set that was released in 2012 (one that I’d missed too, for some reason). Never one to let a damn fine review go to waste, I asked him if he’d mind terribly if I passed it along. -D.H.

Summary: A muscular performance featuring The Who at the peak of their talent recorded on the night after the stellar Live at Leeds album.

Airplane pilots sometimes describe minimizing the possibility of a chain of events happening as avoiding the holes lining up in overlapping slices of Swiss cheese – the more layers, the more unlikely it is that the holes in the cheese line up.

If you take all of the variables of a live rock performance (tempo, acoustics, song selection, miking, individual band member performance, recording production etc. ) and layer them as holey slices of cheese they will occasionally line up – maybe just for a few bars or even one perfect song.

It is these moments that rock fans cherish, and usually they are lost to the universe as they emanate from sweaty taverns or crowded theaters packed with fans. The Who Live At Leeds is one of those rare moments where an entire performance was perfect and the captured result is almost a religious experience.

Live At Hull was recorded 80 km to the East of Leeds; apparently as a backup to the performance the night before. It is not a true bootleg. It features The Who at the top of their game, with very few effects and no keyboards. And while brilliant in many spots, it does not match the unattainable heights of Live At Leeds.

The opening song is a thunderous performance of Entwhistle’s “Heaven and Hell” that features Keith Moon playing furiously with a fusillade of almost incomprehensible fills. It is an astonishing wall of sound that initially echoes the staggering gig of the previous night but then lapses into lower quality jamming. The song is all the more poignant for the now prescient lyrics that foretold John’s death many years later. If you are a Keith Moon fan, this opening song is worth buying the album for.

There are many other flashes to of brilliance to be enjoyed, particularly in unexpected variations of Pete Townshend’s guitar work. But alas, the generous 2-CD recording (which includes all of Tommy on the 2^nd disc) is brought to earth by a strange mix that at times buries the right side vocals and short shrifts the bassline unless you crank the volume.

The drums are mixed up front as are Roger’s vocals. So clear is Roger’s voice that I understood the lyrics in several spots for the 1^st time. It sounds as if Pete had 2 mics and would travel from one to another (one with distinctly higher volume). Keith’s and John’s vocals sound distant — as does the crowd.

Pete’s upbeat banter from Live at Leeds (“Assemble the musicians!” “Rock otter” “Thomas”) is gone though we do get some thoughtful song intros by Roger before they play covers from other artists. Keith’s playing on disc 2 is at times a bit uninspired — as if he was tiring or perhaps a bit bored with Tommy (“Amazing Journey” and “Sparks” did have great drumming).

The backup vocals (rarely a strong point of The Who) are often wobbly. One song at the end of Disc 1, “My Generation”, is a near disaster, turning into a self-indulgent jam by Pete with many false endings as the rest of the band gamely follows along for 15 minutes.

Overall, it is a muscular, workman-like performance, very physical, that makes me marvel at the sheer effort that The Who put pleasing their audiences such as this one; likely composed of factory workers and dock workers in the hard scrabble port city of Kingston upon Hull.

The experience of listening to Live at Hull is a bit disconcerting. It is like meeting the twin brother of a friend that you did not know had a twin at all. The tone of the guitars, the tuning of the drums, the sound of the gong and the tenor of the voices are identical to that on Live at Leeds. Some of the songs are near note perfect copies on both nights (causing me to toss my assumption that all of Keith’s drumming was pure spontaneity). Gradually one realizes that the albums are fraternal, not identical twins. And in this case, one of the “twin brothers” gave a once-in-a-lifetime performance …in Leeds.

On Music

This ain’t the Summer of Love: 10 essential rock albums of 1970

February 24, 2020 Dennis Hartley Leave a comment

by Dennis Hartley

(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on February 22, 2020)

Clearly, I was diggin’ the super sounds of the 70s. (ca. 1978)

I’m livin’ in the 70’s
Eatin’ fake food under plastic trees
My face gets dirty just walkin’ around
I need another pill to calm me down

-from “Living in the 70s” by Skyhooks

If you’ve grown weary of your hippie grandparents getting misty-eyed over “the 50^th anniversary of the Beatles on Sullivan”, “the 50^th anniversary of the Summer of Love” or “the 50^th anniversary of Woodstock”, I have good news for you. The 60s are finally over.

The bad news is …welcome to the 1970s!

When it comes to music, the 1970s were pretty, pretty, good. In fact, I have to say that some of the finest music known to humanity was produced during that decade. Now there are some who subscribe to the theory that one’s “musical taste” is formed during high school and thenceforth set in stone. Full disclosure: I graduated from high school in 1974.

I still say some of the finest music known to humanity was produced during that decade.

In the several years following the release of the Beatles’ game-changing Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album in 1967, the genre broadly referred to as “rock ‘n’ roll” progressed by leaps and bounds. You could say it was “splintering”. Sub-genres began to propagate; folk-rock, blues-rock, progressive rock, country rock, hard rock. By the time the new decade rolled around, you could add more variations: Latin rock, jazz-rock, funk-rock, and polar extremes that would come to be dubbed as “soft rock” and “heavy metal”.

I’ve lost my curly locks (ditto aviator glasses) and there are a few more lines on my face, but I’d guess around 70% of the music that I still listen to was created in the 1970s. (Oh god here he goes now with the anniversary mention) It’s hard to believe that 1970 was (ahem) 50 years ago …but there you have it. With that in mind, here are my picks for the 10 best rock albums of 1970, a year that offers an embarrassing wealth of damn fine LPs.

All Things Must Pass – George Harrison

1970 was an interesting year for the four artists formerly known as “The Beatles”. The belated release of the less-than-stellar Let it Be (actually recorded prior to 1969’s Abbey Road) was overshadowed by solo album debuts from all four ex-band mates. While John Lennon’s Plastic Ono Band, Paul McCartney’s McCartney, and Ringo Starr’s Sentimental Journey certainly contained fine material, I don’t think anybody saw this one coming (always watch out for the “quiet ones”). George Harrison had been “quietly” stowing away some very strong material for some time-at least judging by this massive 3-record set (although one could argue that the 3^rd LP, comprised of 4 meandering jam sessions, was excess baggage). Produced by Phil Spector and featuring a stellar list of backing musicians (Eric Clapton, Ringo Starr, Badfinger, Billy Preston, Gary Wright, Bobby Keys, Peter Frampton, Gary Brooker, Alan White, Ginger Baker, Dave Mason, et.al.) Harrison delivers an astonishing set of songs, many of which have become classics.

Choice cuts: “I’d Have You Anytime”, “My Sweet Lord”, “Isn’t it a Pity (Version One)”, “Let it Down”, “What is Life”, “Beware of Darkness”, “All Things Must Pass”, “Art of Dying”.

Bitches Brew – Miles Davis

Miles Davis is considered a “jazz” artist, but first and foremost he was an artist; one who defied categorization throughout his career. The influence of this 2-LP set on what came to be called “fusion” cannot be overstated. But be warned: this is not an album you put on as background; it is challenging music that demands your full attention (depending on your mood that day, it will sound either bold and exhilarating, or discordant and unnerving). Miles always had heavyweight players on board, but the Bitches Brew roster is legend: including future members of Weather Report (Wayne Shorter, Joe Zawinul), Return to Forever (Chick Corea, Lenny White) and The Mahavishnu Orchestra (John McLaughlin, Billy Cobham) – who are all now acknowledged as key pioneers of fusion.

Choice cuts: “Pharoah’s Dance”, “Bitches Brew”, “John McLaughlin”.

Black Sabbath – Black Sabbath

Album 1, side 1, cut 1: Howling wind, driving rain, the mournful peal of a bell, and the heaviest, scariest tri-tone power chord intro you’ve ever heard. “Please God help meee!!” Talk about a mission statement. Alleged to have been recorded in a single 12-hour session, Black Sabbath’s eponymous debut album blew teenage minds, scared the bejesus out of the clergy and ushered in a genre of rock that showed no fear of the dark.

Choice cuts: “Black Sabbath”, “The Wizard”, “N.I.B.”, “Evil Woman”, “Sleeping Village”.

Bridge Over Troubled Water – Simon and Garfunkel

Simon and Garfunkel went out on a high note with their swan song album (figuratively and literally…if you factor in Art Garfunkel’s soaring vocal performance on the title cut). The album not only features one of Paul Simon’s finest and most enduring song cycles, but outstanding production as well by engineer and co-producer Roy Halee. Halee picked up a Grammy for Best Engineered Recording; the album was festooned with an additional 5 Grammys (including Album of the Year and 4 wins for the title track alone). Simon went on to enjoy a highly successful solo career, and while Garfunkel continued to record and perform (including a reunion or two with Simon), his focus shifted to acting.

Choice cuts: “Bridge Over Troubled Water”, “El Condor Pasa”, “Cecilia”, “So Long, Frank Lloyd Wright”, “The Boxer”, “The Only Living Boy in New York”.

Emerson, Lake, & Palmer – Emerson, Lake, & Palmer

In my 2016 tribute to Greg Lake, I wrote:

Greg Lake was not only one of the gods of prog-rock, but for my money, owned the greatest set of pipes in any musical genre.

That voice has captivated me from the first time I heard “In the Court of the Crimson King” wafting from my radio back in 1969. Even through a tinny 4″ speaker, that beautiful, cathedral voice shot directly through my medulla oblongata and took my breath away.

Prog-rock’s first super-group not only had “that voice”, but the keyboard wizardry of Keith Emerson (The Nice) and the precise drumming of Carl Palmer (The Crazy World of Arthur Brown and Atomic Rooster). ELP’s eponymous debut showcases the trio’s virtuosic musicianship and seamless blending of folk, rock, jazz and classical influences.

Choice cuts: “The Barbarian”, “Take a Pebble”, “Knife-Edge”, “Lucky Man”.

Fire and Water – Free

On an episode of his AXS-TV interview series, former AC/DC lead singer Brian Johnson described the voice of his guest Paul Rodgers thusly: “Velvet chocolate, with a splash of whiskey if required.” Perfect. Speaking of “perfect”, Free’s third studio album is damn-near. Fire and Water is an apt title for this strong set of elemental R&B-flavored blues-rock; propelled by Simon Kirke’s powerful drumming, Andy Fraser’s fluid bass lines, and Paul Kossoff’s spare yet dynamic guitar playing, topped off by Rodgers’ distinctive vocals (possessing a voice like that by 21 can only be attributed to “a gift from beyond”).

Choice cuts: “Fire and Water”, “Oh I Wept”, “Mr. Big”, “Don’t Say You Love Me”, “All Right Now”.

Led Zeppelin III – Led Zeppelin

For their third album (my favorite), Led Zeppelin continued to draw from the well of Delta blues, English folk and heavy metal riffing that had informed the “sound” of Led Zeppelin and II the previous year, but indicated they were opening themselves to a bit of new exploration as well. Robert Plant and Jimmy Page were taking an interest in Eastern music, most evident in the song “Friends” which features an exotic string arrangement that hints at future forays into world music like “Four Sticks” (on IV) and “Kashmir” (on Physical Graffiti). While not bereft of straight-up rockers, this album is also their most “acoustic”, with folk and country-blues influences sprinkled throughout (Page even throws in some banjo for their arrangement of the traditional folk ballad “Gallows Pole”).

Choice cuts: “Immigrant Song”, “Friends”, “Since I’ve Been Loving You”, “Gallows Pole”, “Tangerine”, “That’s the Way”, “Bron-y-aur Stomp”.

The Man Who Sold the World – David Bowie

You could say that David Bowie invented the idea of “re-invention”. It’s also possible he invented a working time machine, as he was always ahead of the curve (or leading the herd). He was the poster boy for “postmodern”. If pressed, I’d have to say my favorite Bowie “period” would be the Mick Ronson years (1969-1973). When he released his third album in 1970, Bowie was on the precipice of outer space and transitioning to a harder rock sound. Mick Ronson’s crunchy power chords and fiery solos feel like a warmup for Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, which was just around the corner.

Choice cuts: “Width of a Circle”, “All the Madmen”, “Black Country Rock”, “After All”, “Running Gun Blues”, “The Man Who Sold the World”.

Rides Again – The James Gang

One of the most majestic and melodic hard rock albums of the 70s, in a realm with Who’s Next. It was the second of three studio albums with Joe Walsh on lead vocals, guitar, and keyboards (Walsh departed the band in 1972, and bass player Dale Peters and drummer Jim Fox would go on to recruit several more guitarists and lead vocalists throughout the decade, including the late great Tommy Bolin). This is one of Walsh’s finest moments; especially in the Abbey Road-style suite on side 2 (Walsh continued a partnership with producer Bill Szymczyk; working with him on 7 of his solo albums between 1972-1992).

Choice cuts: “Funk #49”, “The Bomber: Closet Queen”, “Tend My Garden”, “Garden Gate”, “There I Go Again”, “Thanks”, “Ashes, the Rain and I”.

Tea for the Tillerman – Cat Stevens

To paraphrase from one of the tunes on this album, Cat Stevens had “come a long way” from his first charted hit “I Love My Dog” in 1966 to this beautifully crafted song cycle in 1970. After a life-threatening bout with TB in 1969 that left him hospitalized for months, Stevens went through a spiritual and creative transformation that ultimately inspired him to produce an amazing catalog of compositions within a short period of time (his 1971 follow-up Teaser and the Firecat is equally outstanding). Several songs from this album ended up on the soundtrack for Hal Ashby’s 1971 film Harold and Maude.

Choice cuts: “Where Do the Children Play?”, “Wild World”, “Miles From Nowhere”, “On the Road to Find Out”, “Father and Son”, “Tea for the Tillerman”.

Bonus Tracks!

Here are 10 more 1970 releases worth a spin:

After the Gold Rush – Neil Young
Alone Together – Dave Mason
Benefit – Jethro Tull
Ladies of the Canyon – Joni Mitchell
Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs – Derek and the Dominos
Lola vs. Powerman and the Moneygoround – The Kinks
Moondance – Van Morrison
Morrison Hotel – The Doors
Sweet Baby James – James Taylor
Tumbleweed Connection – Elton John

On Music

My 2020 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Inductee picks

October 20, 2019 Dennis Hartley Leave a comment

By Dennis Hartley

(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on October 19, 2019)

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has announced their 16 nominees for 2020, which must be weeded down to 5 for the next induction. Once again, I will dutifully fulfill my mission as an alleged pop culture critic and argue for my 5 picks (while hopefully not enraging fans of the remaining 11). Just remember kids…it’s only rock ‘n’ roll. So relax.

The nominees: Notorious B.I.G., Whitney Houston, Pat Benatar, Dave Matthews Band, Depeche Mode, the Doobie Brothers, Judas Priest, Kraftwerk, MC5, Motörhead, Nine Inch Nails, Rufus featuring Chaka Khan, Todd Rundgren, Soundgarden, T. Rex, and Thin Lizzy.

As usual, the Hall plays fast and loose with the definition of “rock and roll”, but there you have it. This year is a tough one; I’ve already lobbied previously for 4 of this year’s returning nominees (Judas Priest, Kraftwerk, MC5, and Todd Rundgren) and I am pushing for 2 of them again because they are way overdue. However, I am limited to 5 selections, so 3 of my picks are from among the 9 first-time nominees (just for the record, Soundgarden and Motörhead were my runner-ups from that “first-time nominee” pool).

The Doobie Brothers – Yes, I was just as surprised as you that this band wasn’t already in the Hall of Fame; one would think this is a shoo-in. They’ve been around 50 years, sold 40 million albums, and have been a staple artist on classic rock stations for decades.

There were two distinct iterations of the band’s “sound” in the course of their most productive years; the Tom Johnston era (1970-1975), and the Michael McDonald era (1975-1982). Johnston steered the band into rock-country-blues-R&B territory, and McDonald added his patented “blue-eyed soul” and jazz-pop leanings to the mix when he replaced Johnston as front man. Regardless of who was at the helm, their brand has consistently stood for well-crafted songs, tight live shows and outstanding musicianship.

Best 3 albums: Toulouse Street (1972), The Captain and Me (1973), and Takin’ It to the Streets (1976).

Kraftwerk (6^th nomination…yes, SIXTH…c’mon already!) – In terms of innovation and lasting influence, this German “krautrock” outfit (founded 1970) holds the most import of my 5 selections. While not necessarily the first band to embrace electronica, they were among the first who were able to seamlessly forge the technology with pop sensibilities.

Eschewing traditional guitar-bass-drum backup for synths, vocoders, and drum machines, Kraftwerk upped the ante with self-consciously detached, metronomic vocals that caused many to snicker and dismiss the band as a novelty act in their early days. They’re not laughing now, as Kraftwerk’s influence still flourishes in rock, hip-hop and club music.

Best 3 albums: Autobahn (1974), Trans-Europe Express (1977), and Computer World (1981).

Todd Rundgren (2^nd nomination) – It’s shocking to me that the Hall waited until last year to nominate Todd; he had my vote (it didn’t take…they never listen to me). After all, he’s been in the biz for over 50 years, and is still going strong. He is a true rock and roll polymath; a ridiculously gifted singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, and record producer extraordinaire. He is also a music video and multimedia pioneer.

Granted, his mouth gets him into trouble on occasion (he is from Philly you know), and he does have a rep for insufferable perfectionism in the studio-but the end product is consistently top shelf (including acclaimed albums by Badfinger, The New York Dolls, Meatloaf, The Tubes, Psychedelic Furs, and XTC). Whether he’s performing pop, psych, metal, prog, R&B, power-pop, electronica or lounge, he does it with flair. A wizard and a true star.

Best 3 albums: Something/Anything? (1972), Todd (1974) and Faithful (1976).

Thin Lizzy – If the Hall wishes to uphold the integrity of the “rock” in their namesake, they’ll do the right thing and induct this first-time nominee into its ranks, pronto. Founded in Dublin, Ireland in 1969, this hard-rocking outfit was led by charismatic vocalist/bassist Phil Lynott until his untimely death in 1986.

They had a revolving door of guitarists…but what players: including Eric Bell, the late great Gary Moore, and the classic dual-guitar lineup of Scotsman Brian Robertson and American import Scott Gorham.

“Thin Lizzy Classic” pretty much died with Lynott’s passing, but the band has continued to tour in various iterations, bolstered by a strong song catalog and high-energy performances. I saw them with Deep Purple in Seattle back in 2004, and they still have it!

Best 3 albums: Vagabonds of the Western World (1973), Jailbreak (1976) and Johnny the Fox (1976)

T. Rex – Another first-time nominee that seems like a no-brainer. Originally formed as the duo Tyrannosaurus Rex in 1967, songwriter-lead vocalist-guitarist Marc Bolan and percussionist/obvious Tolkien fan Steve Peregrin Took (aka Steve Porter) put out several albums of acoustic Donovan-style psychedelia before going electric, adding personnel and shortening the band name to T. Rex in 1970 (and never looking back).

Bolan’s unique coupling of hard-driving power chord boogie with pan-sexual stage attire turned a lot of heads in 1970, eventually making him the (literal) poster boy for what came to be labelled as “glam-rock” (although, to my ears Bolan’s songs remained strongly rooted in traditional Chuck Berry riffs and straight-ahead blues-rock…albeit chockablock with playfully enigmatic and absurdist lyrics). With his prolific songwriting, charismatic stage presence and guitar chops, Bolan was like David Bowie and Mick Ronson rolled into one. T. Rex had a marked influence on punk-rock, New Romantic and Goth. Induct now!

Best 3 albums: Electric Warrior (1971), The Slider (1972) and Tanx (1973).

On Music

One sweet dream: On “Abbey Road” at 50 and an anniversary reissue

September 30, 2019 Dennis Hartley Leave a comment

By Dennis Hartley

(Originally posted on Digby’s Hullabaloo on September 28, 2019)

Image result for abbey road

“A pleasant but unadventurous collection of basically low-voltage numbers.”

-from the original 1969 Newsweek review of Abbey Road

By 1969, the Beatles had probably done enough “living” to suit several normal lifetimes, and did so with the whole world looking in. It’s almost unfathomable how they could have achieved as much as they did, and at the end of all, still be only in their twenties.

Are there any other recording artists who have ever matched the creative growth that transpired over the scant six years that it took to evolve from the simplicity of Meet the Beatles to the sophistication of Abbey Road?

Hindsight being 20/20, should we really be so shocked to see the four haggard and sullen “old guys” who mope through the 1970 documentary, Let it Be? Filmed in 1969 and directed by Michael Lindsay-Hogg, the movie was originally intended to be a TV special but ended up documenting the “making of” the eponymous album (there were also snippets of the band working on several songs that ended up on Abbey Road).

Sadly, the film has a rep as hard evidence of the band’s disintegration. Granted, there is some on-camera bickering (most famously, in a scene where an uncharacteristically riled-up George reaches the end of his tether with Paul’s fussiness).

Still, signs of a deeply rooted musical camaraderie remain in that outdoor mini concert filmed on a London rooftop. If you look closely, the boys are exchanging glances that telegraph they’re having a grand time jamming out; an affirmation that this is what this band of brothers were put on this earth to do, and what the hell …it’s only rock ’n’ roll.

The Let it Be movie doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of how tumultuous 1969 was for the band. As Ian MacDonald notes in his excellent 1994 assessment of the Beatles’ catalog, Revolution in the Head:

The day after the rooftop concert, the band recorded three songs unsuited to recital in a moderate gale [“Two of Us”, “Let it Be”, and “The Long and Winding Road”] before winding the [recording sessions for the “Let it Be” album] up in some relief. An ignominious failure which shook their faith in their collective judgement, it had pushed them to the verge of collapse. […]

[soon after the “Let it Be” sessions wrapped] a fatal rift in the group’s relationships opened when Lennon, Harrison, and Starr asked the Rolling Stones’ American manager Allen Klein to take over the Beatles’ affairs. McCartney, who favoured Linda Eastman’s family firm of management consultants, immediately opened a court battle which long outlasted the remainder of the Beatles’ career.

The dream was over. Or so it seemed. The boys were not about to go out on a sour note (at least in a creative sense). As Bob Spitz writes in his exhaustive band bio, The Beatles:

The tapes from earlier in the year that would eventually become “Let it Be” languished in the can, abandoned, a victim of haste and sloppy execution. “[They] were so lousy and so bad,” according to John – “twenty-nine hours of tape …twenty takes of everything – that “none of us would go near them …None of us could face remixing them; it was [a] terrifying [prospect].” “It was laying [sic] dormant and so we decided ‘Let’s make a good album again,’” George recalled.

Beatles musicologist Tim Riley picks it up from there – from his 1988 book Tell Me Why:

Still, venturing out into solo careers was a daunting notion, especially when the itch to make more Beatles music wouldn’t go away – perhaps the rooftop set had been so promising that they felt the need to reconcile the musical loose ends on the unreleased “Get Back” [album] sessions [from early 1969]. If the Beatles were still a band, they owed their audience a follow-up to “The White Album”. George Martin remembers a phone call from Paul in July asking him to help make a record “the way we used to do it.”

In case you hadn’t heard, that record turned out pretty good.

In fact, I’m listening to it at this very moment, as I write this review. Specifically, it is the 3-CD + Blu-ray disc “Abbey Road Anniversary Super Deluxe” box set (also available in a truncated 2-CD edition). The reissues commemorate the 50th anniversary of the album (originally released in the U.K. September 26, 1969 and in the U.S. on October 1, 1969).

CD 1 is the album itself, remixed in stereo from the original 8-track masters (supervised by George Martin’s son Giles). I don’t have a state-of-the-art sound system, but even so I was able to discern the difference upon first listen. The tracks have a warm, analog resonance that sound closer to the original vinyl (we’ve come full circle, I suppose). Upon initial listen, “Something”, “Here Comes the Sun”, “Sun King”, “Because”, “You Never Give Me Your Money” and “Golden Slumbers” benefit the most from the upgrade.

CDs 2 and 3 contain alternate takes of the Abbey Road cuts (it’s fun to hear the studio chatter, especially Lennon’s playful and frequently hilarious lyric improvisations) as well as early takes of their 1969 45 “The Ballad of John and Yoko” and its B-side “Old Brown Shoe”. Other highlights include Paul’s demos for “Come and Get It” and “Goodbye” (hits he wrote for Apple Records artists Badfinger and Mary Hopkins, respectively) and takes of George Martin’s isolated orchestral parts for “Something” and “Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight”…which remind you of his genius for song arrangement.

I haven’t had time to explore the Blu-ray yet; it contains 3 different enhanced versions of the new mix: in Dolby ATMOS, in 96kHz/24-bit DTS-DD Master Audio 5.1, and in 96kHz/24-bit High Res Stereo. Obviously, these mixes require a high-end setup for full appreciation; I’ll hang on to it in case I ever get a spare $25,000 for a home theater room.

The Super Deluxe Edition also includes a 100-page book with rare photos (many taken by Linda Eastman), essays and track-by-track annotation with the complete rundown on personnel involved in each session.

This is a lovely package, a treat for Beatle fans. It’s pricey, but you have an option to pick up the 2-CD version for less than $20 (although it’s missing the Blu-ray, quite a few of the outtakes and demos, and the book…come on, you know you want the box set!).

I remember buying the LP when it came out. I was 13 and living in Columbus Ohio. October of 1969 was a stressful time for my family. My dad had just left for a tour in Vietnam, and my mom was at the end of her tether. It was the first time they had been apart for an extended period of time since their wedding in 1955; my brothers were typical 2 and 4 year-old terrors and I was adding to her aggravation being a typical 13 year-old male with a smart mouth and no father figure to give it a well-deserved smack.

I think that was when music became important to me; in a spiritual way. I couldn’t articulate at the time why Abbey Road was so important to me, but it was. I was like Richard Dreyfuss playing with the mashed potatoes… “This MEANS something!” Abbey Road provided the salve I needed at that moment. And at this moment. And in the end…