Iggy and the Stooges - Search and Destroy
"The best of all of them is what happened when he played the Whisky in Los Angeles ... It was a very star-studded, Jack-and-Anjelica-and-Warren night. He was waiting for his dealer, to cop, intent on getting his shot of heroin before he went on. But he had no money. So he went to the VIP booths one at a time and explained the situation. He said, 'Look, you're here to see me, and I can't go on until my dealer is here, and he's waiting to be paid, so give me some money so I can fix up, and then you'll get your show.' He got more than enough money. He stood off to the side and shot up. The lights went down, the music went up, he stood onstage and collapsed. Without a note being sung. He'd OD'd in front of everyone. And had to be carried off. I think that was one of his greatest shows ever ... It was so minimally perfect. It just says a very great deal."
- Danny Fields
"If I don't terrorize, I'm not Pop."
- Iggy Pop
Warning: Potential loss of objectivity ahead.
Before we begin, I'll warn you that I may find it hard to be entirely objective about this song. You see, it's one of my favourite songs of all time, and the Stooges are one of my favourite bands. This song, in my mind, is one of the purest punk songs I've ever heard (along with Pay To Cum by Bad Brains, American Jesus by Bad Religion and Holiday in Cambodia by The Dead Kennedys). When I think of punk and hardcore, this is the song that plays in my head. Some have said that I Wanna Be Your Dog is really the greatest punk song of all time, but this is, at least in my humble opinion, the epitome of the form. This is the kind of music that
The Stooges have influenced every band in the world that ever put a fuzz pedal between a guitar and an amp and decided to hit their cymbals a little harder than the norm. From the rather explicit copycats like The White Stripes and The Hives, to Eugene Hutz, Henry Rollins and Morrisey, the level of plaudits is almost universal. A list of bands who have covered them includes The Sex Pistols, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Slayer, The Birthday Party, The Black Keys, Guns and Roses, Rage Against The Machine, REM and Sonic Youth.
To add to all of that, Iggy Pop broke the Rock Nutter Scale(tm).
Name: He wasn't christened Iggy Pop, you know. He named himself after the first band he played in (The Iguanas) and a local junkie. His dear, trailer park resident mother actally christened him James Jewel (?) Osterberg. Which is almost as weird as Iggy.
Drugs: He practically defines rock and roll excess. He may be the only man Keith Richards respects when it comes to serious drug use.
History of Violence and Reckless Behaviour: He wrote the book. He dropped out of varsity to be a blues drummer, married a 13 year old heiress and lived in a house full of guns with the MC5 intent on dying in a shootout with the police. And then the real weirdness started. Read Please Kill Me by Legs McNeil to understand the full scope of Pop's depravity and craziness. He is the Rock Nutter. All bases, from ODing on stage, rolling around in broken glass mid-gig, calling out an entire biker gang for a fight, to appearing on British TV in see through pants, are covered. One gets the feeling that, while Ozzy may have bitten the head off a bat on stage, Iggy would prefer to bite the head off the guy from Blink 182.
Fallen afoul of the law? If he hasn't, he should have. In fact, if he hasn't it's only because the law is scared of him. No jail can contain him.
In short, Keith Richards probably wears a little rubber bracelet with WWID? on it. Sorry Willie, you were never really in the race.
On to the song. The song drips anger and disaffection, from the opening guitars, seemingly fuzzed into another universe, and the atonal, almost out-of-time guitar lead building up to a shriek when Iggy Pop delivers the first of many lyrical body blows, proclaiming himself, almost crooning, as a "streetwalking cheetah with a heart full of napalm". From that point on, Pop, the Asheton brothers (described by Pop as two of the dimmest bulbs in rock and roll) and James Williamson (by all accounts an immensely unlikeable character and the person who turned Pop's heroin use into an addiction) pound the world into submmission with a vicious slab of fuzzed-out bass and shrieks that make it sound like the world is collapsing around your ears. This is music that should be played so loud that it makes your neighbours' ears bleed, like Jello Biafra used to do. This is the music that will signal the apocalypse. To be honest, it's more difficult to describe a song that I love and that I've heard so many times than it is to be critical of some of the dreck that I've been listened to recently.
Verdict: Apocalypse Now.
Tomorrow: Guns And Roses - Welcome To The Jungle.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Friday, June 5, 2009
It's too late for me, save yourself.
This song makes me want to die. Consider it an entirely irrational, instinctive, visceral reaction, but it sounds like it should be the theme tune to a 70s sitcom starring Norman Fell (a.k.a. TVs Mr Roper).
I'm not going to say anything and, instead, listen to tomorrow's song until I've banished the foul taste of this abomination from my mind.
My verdict should be clear.
I'm not going to say anything and, instead, listen to tomorrow's song until I've banished the foul taste of this abomination from my mind.
My verdict should be clear.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Neither free, nor a man
Joni Mitchell - Free Man In Paris
Written about David Geffen and a trip to Paris with Robbie Robertson from The Band, this is one of the rather cheekboned Ms Mitchell's favourite live songs. To put it into perspective, if Willie Nelson was the happy stoner uncle of folky, country music, Mitchell would be the weird aunt who you're not sure is a Wiccan or just in need to electro-convulsive therapy. Either way, she normally embarrasses herself at family gatherings and wears clothes that look like hippies threw them away. She may even be a sculptor. in the same way that I've managed to stretch that metaphor to the painful limit, Mitchell seems intent to stretch the upper limits of her vocal range to the same heights - She manages to hit notes that would reduce our canine friends to conniptions and that automatically make me want to do someone harm. However, this is a more consistent and less breathy vocal than normal from Mitchell, while still retaining some of her trademark minor key, legato vocals. She can't so much as hold a note as want to slide it up or down a hill.
Musically, there's some slide guitar in the mix, some flute or recorder, some airily-strummed, folky guitar, a shuffly drumbeat and a serious reliance on the 'new' idea of stereo recording. The music side is not really noteworthy. Rock and roll flautism reminds me of bearded men in dresses shouting 'AQUALUUUNG'.
The whole package is a little twee and chanteuse-y for me. I prefer music with a little more edge than this, which has about as much sharp edge as a properly baby-proofed lawn. This music is incapable of offending or provoking moral outrage in any way. But apart from that, it's perfectly fine, even if Mitchell looks like a horse trying to eat an ice cream when she sings.
Verdict: Give me death.
Tomorrow: Carole King - It's Too Late.
Written about David Geffen and a trip to Paris with Robbie Robertson from The Band, this is one of the rather cheekboned Ms Mitchell's favourite live songs. To put it into perspective, if Willie Nelson was the happy stoner uncle of folky, country music, Mitchell would be the weird aunt who you're not sure is a Wiccan or just in need to electro-convulsive therapy. Either way, she normally embarrasses herself at family gatherings and wears clothes that look like hippies threw them away. She may even be a sculptor. in the same way that I've managed to stretch that metaphor to the painful limit, Mitchell seems intent to stretch the upper limits of her vocal range to the same heights - She manages to hit notes that would reduce our canine friends to conniptions and that automatically make me want to do someone harm. However, this is a more consistent and less breathy vocal than normal from Mitchell, while still retaining some of her trademark minor key, legato vocals. She can't so much as hold a note as want to slide it up or down a hill.
Musically, there's some slide guitar in the mix, some flute or recorder, some airily-strummed, folky guitar, a shuffly drumbeat and a serious reliance on the 'new' idea of stereo recording. The music side is not really noteworthy. Rock and roll flautism reminds me of bearded men in dresses shouting 'AQUALUUUNG'.
The whole package is a little twee and chanteuse-y for me. I prefer music with a little more edge than this, which has about as much sharp edge as a properly baby-proofed lawn. This music is incapable of offending or provoking moral outrage in any way. But apart from that, it's perfectly fine, even if Mitchell looks like a horse trying to eat an ice cream when she sings.
Verdict: Give me death.
Tomorrow: Carole King - It's Too Late.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
America's Outlaw
Willie Nelson - On The Road Again
I don't think that, as a Gen X'er who didn't grow up in Texas, you can think of this song without thinking of it's far more pop culture mooring point. Yes, Eddie Murphy, singing it as Donkey in Shrek. And if anyone is cool enough to deserve a bit of pop culture big ups, Willie could do worse than step up to the plate. He's not far off gold medal nutterdom on the Rock Nutter Scale (tm). Witness:
(1) Must have done enough drugs to kill a regiment of dutch soldiers
Check! Nelson is not only a member of National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws, he's co-chair of the board!
(2) Must have been to prison more times than the neck tattoo fairy - check!
Nelson is no fan of the IRS or the DEA, both of whom have put him in the chookie for tax evasion and marijuana possession respectively.
(3) Must be reknowned for wild and destructive behavior
I think that counting Keith Richards, Kinky Friedman and Kid Rock as friends is probably destructive enough for various reasons. Plus he starred in Friedman's Roadkill.
(4) Should have a proper pseudonym
His middle name is Hugh. Badass.
(5) Should have a suitably weird history
He's a country musician, it's practically part of the job description.
That seals it - Nelson is the most badass of rock nutters encountered so far (mainly because Grace Slick is a poor owner of the title so far and Rick James is nobody's hero). Needless to say, while Keith Richards and Iggy Pop haven't been subjected to scrutiny yet, they are coming up and the title may change hands. Willie is, however, a true outlaw legend and, by all accounts, a genuinely genuine one at that.
But on to the song. It's upbeat country fare, all skiffle-y beat, fingerpicked guitar and a nifty slide solo. There's some harmonica. There's a real fun, good ol' boy live vibe to it. Nelson sounds like he's having a good time. There's genuine enthusiasm. It's no Johnny Cash/Hank Williams opus, but that's not the point - Willie doesn't exist to remind you that you're dying, like Johnny Cash does. If Cash is the substance-abusing, suicidal father of country music, Nelson is the drunken, stoner uncle who's always smiling. And this song is all about getting on the bus, jamming with his friends and making music for the people. Rock on Willie. I may be harping on about Aretha again, but Nelson's bonhomie is precisely what differentiates this as a song from hers - you can almost hear him smiling his way through, and it's a genuine smile.
Verdict: Legend rolls on
Tomorrow: Joni Mitchell - Free Man In Paris
I don't think that, as a Gen X'er who didn't grow up in Texas, you can think of this song without thinking of it's far more pop culture mooring point. Yes, Eddie Murphy, singing it as Donkey in Shrek. And if anyone is cool enough to deserve a bit of pop culture big ups, Willie could do worse than step up to the plate. He's not far off gold medal nutterdom on the Rock Nutter Scale (tm). Witness:
(1) Must have done enough drugs to kill a regiment of dutch soldiers
Check! Nelson is not only a member of National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws, he's co-chair of the board!
(2) Must have been to prison more times than the neck tattoo fairy - check!
Nelson is no fan of the IRS or the DEA, both of whom have put him in the chookie for tax evasion and marijuana possession respectively.
(3) Must be reknowned for wild and destructive behavior
I think that counting Keith Richards, Kinky Friedman and Kid Rock as friends is probably destructive enough for various reasons. Plus he starred in Friedman's Roadkill.
(4) Should have a proper pseudonym
His middle name is Hugh. Badass.
(5) Should have a suitably weird history
He's a country musician, it's practically part of the job description.
That seals it - Nelson is the most badass of rock nutters encountered so far (mainly because Grace Slick is a poor owner of the title so far and Rick James is nobody's hero). Needless to say, while Keith Richards and Iggy Pop haven't been subjected to scrutiny yet, they are coming up and the title may change hands. Willie is, however, a true outlaw legend and, by all accounts, a genuinely genuine one at that.
But on to the song. It's upbeat country fare, all skiffle-y beat, fingerpicked guitar and a nifty slide solo. There's some harmonica. There's a real fun, good ol' boy live vibe to it. Nelson sounds like he's having a good time. There's genuine enthusiasm. It's no Johnny Cash/Hank Williams opus, but that's not the point - Willie doesn't exist to remind you that you're dying, like Johnny Cash does. If Cash is the substance-abusing, suicidal father of country music, Nelson is the drunken, stoner uncle who's always smiling. And this song is all about getting on the bus, jamming with his friends and making music for the people. Rock on Willie. I may be harping on about Aretha again, but Nelson's bonhomie is precisely what differentiates this as a song from hers - you can almost hear him smiling his way through, and it's a genuine smile.
Verdict: Legend rolls on
Tomorrow: Joni Mitchell - Free Man In Paris
Romper Stomper
The Supremes - Where Did Our Love Go?
And Diana Ross stomps into the list, leading the Supremes in their first hit, the 1964 Holland-Dozier-Holland opus Where Did Our Love Go?, which was originally offered to the Marvelletes (the big dogs in the girl groups yard) who thought it was a bit childish. Ross, of the 'no-hit Supremes' as they were then known, latched her claws into it, and the result is a saccharine sweet "burning, burning yearning" of "burning love that stings like a bee".
It's really girl group-y. This could be the template, in fact. Sweet as sugar harmonies, a sax solo, minimal but driving drumming with a great stomp beat that was augmented by 'stomp boards' or additional plywood boards on top of mahogony floors which the artists stomped on while singing.
Needless to say, it's been covered by everyone from the J.Geils Band to Soft Cell to the Pussycat Dolls. And it's cool - it just hits me much more than Aretha's effort. I really like it. Maybe it's the simplicity - you can hear that this was recorded on 3 tracks - just vocals, sax and rhythm, no messing around - walk in, drop the track and head out to become stars. It's a simple song, done simply, relying on nothing by beautiful voices and a hearkening back to simplicity. Oh, and they say the word 'baby' more times than a pack of pregnant women.
Verdict: Sweet death by stomping
Tomorrow: Willie Nelson - On The Road Again
And Diana Ross stomps into the list, leading the Supremes in their first hit, the 1964 Holland-Dozier-Holland opus Where Did Our Love Go?, which was originally offered to the Marvelletes (the big dogs in the girl groups yard) who thought it was a bit childish. Ross, of the 'no-hit Supremes' as they were then known, latched her claws into it, and the result is a saccharine sweet "burning, burning yearning" of "burning love that stings like a bee".
It's really girl group-y. This could be the template, in fact. Sweet as sugar harmonies, a sax solo, minimal but driving drumming with a great stomp beat that was augmented by 'stomp boards' or additional plywood boards on top of mahogony floors which the artists stomped on while singing.
Needless to say, it's been covered by everyone from the J.Geils Band to Soft Cell to the Pussycat Dolls. And it's cool - it just hits me much more than Aretha's effort. I really like it. Maybe it's the simplicity - you can hear that this was recorded on 3 tracks - just vocals, sax and rhythm, no messing around - walk in, drop the track and head out to become stars. It's a simple song, done simply, relying on nothing by beautiful voices and a hearkening back to simplicity. Oh, and they say the word 'baby' more times than a pack of pregnant women.
Verdict: Sweet death by stomping
Tomorrow: Willie Nelson - On The Road Again
Done Right, Every Time
Aretha Franklin - Do Right Woman, Do Right Man
I know, I know, I missed yesterday. Stop acting like your world fell apart. There was a specific medical reason for it - gluteal glaucoma. Basically, I just couldn't see my ass posting anything. Especially about this song. Which is not to say that there is anything wrong with it. There's not - it's an amazing, beautiful, touching song. And it's sung with incredible emotion, as perfectly arranged as a song could be and all of the instruments just work perfectly in the context of the song - twinkling pianos, bubbling horns, just the slightest hint of upright bass and snare drum, almost in a waltz figure.
To add to this, the vocal harmonies are stunning and Aretha's lead vocals are on the baddest side of badassville. It's also been covered by a veritable clutch of pretenders - everyone from Sinead o'Connor and Cher to the Flying Burrito Brothers and Willie Nelson, none of whom, I'm willing to be, managed to so much as touch the original.
But still, it just doesn't do it for me. I'm just not that into it, to use the popular term. It's cool, but there's no spirit of playfulness, no feeling that Aretha didn't see it as anything more than a job, albeit one that she did really well. I know that's very subjective. I don't care either. Chances are, if you haven't heard this, you'll love it, and if you have, you already do, but maybe it just needs to grow on me.
Verdict: Done right, but not with love.
Tomorrow: The Supremes - Where Did Our Love Go
I know, I know, I missed yesterday. Stop acting like your world fell apart. There was a specific medical reason for it - gluteal glaucoma. Basically, I just couldn't see my ass posting anything. Especially about this song. Which is not to say that there is anything wrong with it. There's not - it's an amazing, beautiful, touching song. And it's sung with incredible emotion, as perfectly arranged as a song could be and all of the instruments just work perfectly in the context of the song - twinkling pianos, bubbling horns, just the slightest hint of upright bass and snare drum, almost in a waltz figure.
To add to this, the vocal harmonies are stunning and Aretha's lead vocals are on the baddest side of badassville. It's also been covered by a veritable clutch of pretenders - everyone from Sinead o'Connor and Cher to the Flying Burrito Brothers and Willie Nelson, none of whom, I'm willing to be, managed to so much as touch the original.
But still, it just doesn't do it for me. I'm just not that into it, to use the popular term. It's cool, but there's no spirit of playfulness, no feeling that Aretha didn't see it as anything more than a job, albeit one that she did really well. I know that's very subjective. I don't care either. Chances are, if you haven't heard this, you'll love it, and if you have, you already do, but maybe it just needs to grow on me.
Verdict: Done right, but not with love.
Tomorrow: The Supremes - Where Did Our Love Go
Monday, June 1, 2009
Unity through funk
Funkadelic - One Nation Under A Groove
While it's possible (although improbable) that you haven't heard One Nation Under A Groove, it's impossible, especially if you have listened to popular music in the last 15 years, to not recognise some of its hooks - maybe the shouted background vocal of "Feet don't fail me now" or the legato vocal of "Ready or not, here we come" (memorably appropriated by The Fugees). It's an immense, gigantic, month-long marquee tent full of groove-funk, led by the inimitable George Clinton who was, at the same time, making brassier, bassier funk with Parliament, on an entirely different record label. The result was, at a later date, Parliament Funkadelic, but that's another story.
The song is pretty much just .. funky (if it's not clear, funk is not something I know a hell of a lot about) - maybe a bit groovier than Parliament, which is all brassy, party grooves. It's all Hendrix-flavoured noodly guitars, bouncing bass, smooth as butter backing vocals and a vocal that ranges between croony and mellow to excited and exhortational. And it's long at seven and a half minutes. This must be the Stairway To Heaven of funk - you get the feeling that in music stores in 70s Harlem, there was a sign above all the bass guitars saying something Wayne's World-ish like "No Groove". And, like Stairway, it's an anthemic song that's inspired everyone from Prince to Outkast to those funk-thieves The Red Hot Chili Peppers and all manner of g-funk and hip-hop music.
Verdict: National Anthem of the United States of Funk
Tomorrow: Aretha Franklin - Do Right Woman, Do Right Man
While it's possible (although improbable) that you haven't heard One Nation Under A Groove, it's impossible, especially if you have listened to popular music in the last 15 years, to not recognise some of its hooks - maybe the shouted background vocal of "Feet don't fail me now" or the legato vocal of "Ready or not, here we come" (memorably appropriated by The Fugees). It's an immense, gigantic, month-long marquee tent full of groove-funk, led by the inimitable George Clinton who was, at the same time, making brassier, bassier funk with Parliament, on an entirely different record label. The result was, at a later date, Parliament Funkadelic, but that's another story.
The song is pretty much just .. funky (if it's not clear, funk is not something I know a hell of a lot about) - maybe a bit groovier than Parliament, which is all brassy, party grooves. It's all Hendrix-flavoured noodly guitars, bouncing bass, smooth as butter backing vocals and a vocal that ranges between croony and mellow to excited and exhortational. And it's long at seven and a half minutes. This must be the Stairway To Heaven of funk - you get the feeling that in music stores in 70s Harlem, there was a sign above all the bass guitars saying something Wayne's World-ish like "No Groove". And, like Stairway, it's an anthemic song that's inspired everyone from Prince to Outkast to those funk-thieves The Red Hot Chili Peppers and all manner of g-funk and hip-hop music.
Verdict: National Anthem of the United States of Funk
Tomorrow: Aretha Franklin - Do Right Woman, Do Right Man
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