Monday, September 2, 2013

Screaming Memes, etc








(Source: The Sourpuss)


Devo officially released the inspiration for their Are We Not Men? album cover. According to their version, golfer Chi Chi Rodriguez was contacted about the use of his image. He apparently was enthused about the prospect and made the band to promise to give him copies of the record to hand out to friends, etc. When the album was released Rodriguez was disappointed to see the image had been altered. (A mash-up of four presidents was added to the golfer's likeness.)




(Thanks to Art Chantry for the heads up.)

In what surely must be a seal of the coming apocalypse, Disney has released a t-shirt that plays on— that's right—the first Joy Division album cover. (The fact that the band's name was Joy Division should've been enough to give them pause.)



Anybody remember how those early portable CD player's skipped all over hell during car rides? The mind reels at the prospects here:






Ever wonder what that stuff is they made Keith Richards out of? (The same material as those aircraft black boxes?) Lemmy may be made out of it too.




Sunday, September 1, 2013

The Marxist Harmonies of Gang of Four


Just discovered this: A searing performance of Gang of Four's To Hell with Poverty from the BBC program Old Grey Whistle Test in 1981. Guitarist Andy Gill describes the song as his guitar playing moment of clarity: The song is built on what is essentially a two note vamp (with some variation) that Gill finger f**ks the s**t out of and would find an influence for his guitar playing style ever after, a complete departure from his previous work (which I was a big fan of). See here how he tortures more harmonics out of his Strat than had he thrown it into a Vitamix. He also embroiders his playing with some well manipulated feedback and enough plectrum friction against the strings to start a fire and otherwise bangs his guitar like a recalcitrant tambourine.

This sonic reapplication of his guitar style is ironic when considering Gill's impressive and distinctive brand of harmonic mersch executed on the first two albums. After To Hell he essentially abandoned the rich explorations of the first two albums and instead opted for a stripped down style that can be heard to best effect on their third album (and last of their classic period), Songs of the Free, and everything else that followed. After Songs of the Free the band would embark on its caffeinated Kaja Goo Goo stage with its ironically titled album Hard (it proved to be anything but). The result was an effect drenched wash of sound, one note grooves, synths (!)Syndrums and a drawerful of various dorky electronics that'd prove to be de riguer of the period. It was the 80s, after all, and many of us were intoxicated with the new digital gadgetry. It's forgivable but in retrospect comes off about as dated as platform shoes.

Sorry, boys, but Syndrums don't quite carry the Marxist message: They're so totally bourgeois.




Just to remind, the masterwork bag of knives guitar harmonies of Gill's explorations matched with Hugo Burnham's stammering, stomping drum syncopations of If I Could Keep It for Myself. This two punch combination would then be immediately abandoned after the Solid Gold album—an album, IMHO, that was easily their best.

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

"The Worst Music Video of All Time"


The companion piece to the popular Worst Record Cover of All Time post, this Billy Squier Video was  awarded that title in an unanimous vote by 400 music industry professionals who put their coke-addled brains together and picked this video as the worst ever by a major label artist. 




Directed by High School Musical's Kenny Ortega and argued by Dangerous Minds that it's such "a whopping steaming turd" (so said by the Capital Records exec who gave it the green light) that it just may've killed Squier's career. Hard to believe given the font of potential career maiming dreck that practically built MTV in the early 80s. You'd think another video of a narcissistic, poodle-permed preening rockstar would hardly be given notice. Sure, Ortega's Toddlers and Tiaras style choreography does have Squier coming off like someone who couldn't rock a body if they were at a Saudi stoning, and, yes, musically he was your typical herniating East Coast screamer bellowing over a bed of Walmart-worthy power ballads—whatever you think of it now, back in the day Squier was selling this stuff for double platinum (and nowadays it might even get booked on one of those themed rock cruises). But, jeez, career death? If that were the case MTV would've been committing career genocides on a monthly basis. 

Squier claimed the video made had him come off either as too gay or too drugged and too much of a pretty boy. And while the last part of the video does have a kind of The Boys in the Band quality, you'd think he'd have to be drugged not to realize that editing wasn't going to make his epileptic Tom Cruise (or a drunken Miley Cyrus) flash mobs presentable. (Was there a magic to the storyboards that just didn't translate?)  Or maybe Squier was just another pebble in the pavement for the traveling waves of hip hop and grunge to follow. Like the voluminous hair of the early 80s, Squier's time was a narrow window. The zeitgeist just couldn't swallow his slight stuff for very long. 

(Forgive the third generation VHS copy resolution quality.)



It kind of fits, doesn't it?

See original article without all my purpley prose here.

To prove that worse is entirely in the eye of the beholder, a reader suggested this horrid video as a contender. Clearly, to some Spinal Tap was no joke. (See how the Metal Queen wields a sword. Heh-heh.)

Stop the presses! A truly, truly awful nominee for the Amateurs from Hell category: I defy you to get all the way to the end. (I couldn't.) Greasy mullets and frizzy hair stacks all around, ill-fitting leather, horrid location scouting, and video that may've been shot by the worst wedding videographer in the world. (The addiction to sudden sky dissolving shots will leave you speechless.) A masterpiece of Ed Woodian proportions.

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Iggy and Peaches Cut it Up


Peaches, the gold star slut goddess, and Iggy, the bare-chested Viagra geezer who still swaggers at 65 (!), pair up for this little piece of pop provocation (as provocative as two people who play for different teams shouting past each other can be) lipsynching with tongues thoroughly affixed to cheeks while battling bikinied zombies among others.

Iggy's still got it and Peaches is her own category. A good pair:

Saturday, August 24, 2013

Music that Matters, Pt 15

147)
Mott the Hoople
, Violence, Crash City Kids, Marionette, One of the Boys: Before Freddy was constructing his show tune Taj Mahals with Mormon Tabernacle deep choirs (cf. Bohemian Rhapsody), Ian Hunter was weaving comparative grass huts of drama Queen of his own. Mott's Marionette, Violence, and Crash City Kids may've been much less for scale and ambition than Queen, and their technique was downright garagey when held against Queen's academic approach—call Hunter a Spike Jones next to Freddy's Leonard Bernstein (it's appropriate that Queen guitarist Brian May would pursue a PhD in astrophysics). In Marionette, some of Hunter's lyric lines don't quite seem to fit without a shoehorn and some of the word choices could've used a few more drafts, but the pomp and burlesque of the music hall are all over the place and may've provided Freddy a template. Plus, late stage Mott had established a sound entirely their own, departing from their earlier pub's version of a Jumpin' Jack Flash cum Blonde on Blonde. Though they were never far from their very anglicized versions Chuck Berry and Little Richard, it served them well.

Marionette by Mott the Hoople on Grooveshark

Crash City Kids and Violence are quintessential examples of Hunter's scaled up garage operas with broad strokes of humor, and in the case of Violence, well applied frenzy.

Crash Street Kidds by Mott the Hoople on Grooveshark

Violence by Mott the Hoople on Grooveshark

One of the Boys is no garage opera but another example of Mott's brilliant use of effects, cf. the dialing phone, middle interlude, and Hunter's continuous stream of yelps, shouts, and screams that even outdo Robert Plant for the guy who can't resist the sound of his own voice. Future Bad Company guitarist Mick Ralph's displays an encyclopedic turn on Keith Richard's Chuck Berryisms—neither man ever meeting a suspended chord they didn't like.

One of the Boys by Mott the Hoople on Grooveshark

148) Polysics, Peach Pie on the Beach: Hailing from Japan (which will be obvious when you hear it), Polysics are admitted Devo fanatics (also obvious) with a sound saturated in '80s effects and a playing style that you'd think could only come out of an amphetamine drip. Like most Japanese bands I've heard, the musicianship is ridiculously high if not always as innovative as you'd expect given the skills. Peach Pie on the Beach has enough punch to knock out a club bouncer, the musical equivalent of Japan's frenetic food packaging graphics. This tune makes a great little eye opener to bump up your morning coffee.

Peach Pie on the Beach by POLYSICS on Grooveshark

 
149) Black Randy and the Metro Squad, I Tell Lies Everyday: Judging from the work, I think it's safe to say that Black Randy—AKA the very white John Morris (d. 1988 from complications of AIDS)—likely didn't intend his racist humor to sound like satire or irony. It's pretty clear it he just thinks that sh*t is funny. That aside, the band, who play their little black hearts out, may well have been one of the best in Los Angeles at the time. Randy, for his part, wasn't much of a singer but then this band could make GG Allin sound good.




150) John Coltrane, My Favorite Things: One of the legacies of punk rock was to take classic gems and turn them into something more sinister, say, like the Sex Pistols' deconstruction of My Way. Long before the age of irony, beboppers had already put the flag in that territory. To wit: hear how Coltrane plunges his horn deep into favorite things and blows away all traces of Julie Andrews' perfumed innocence. He does this by stripping out chunks of the melody and schmearing it over with a gig bag's worth of jagged alien bits and eliminates the whole When the bee stings, when the dog bites bridge section (they hint at it but then move along, teasingly, just to let us know what they've done) until the very end as a way out. This is iconoclasm at its best. I'm sure my dad would've hated this, wondering Where the hell's the melody? It's still there, Pops. You can always count on Julie Andrews for her melodic piety and spoonfuls of sugar. Just don't look for it in Coltrane. 

Below, a live, extended version; the shorter album version here.





151) Scott JoplinBethena: A Concert Waltz (Joshua Rifkin): Firstly, this is one of the greatest American composers, ever. His music brought the salon into the whorehouse, marrying early 20th century dance music with the bittersweet tears of Chopin, the first hints of jazz, and like the tango, lots of sexual subtext. And he wrote so goddamn many great ones. Bethena is a departure from the rags (Joplin wrote serious music as well as pop) and throws together a suite of melodies with new piece of connecting tissue with every new verse. Bethana is the opus that no one could write but him and helps make him the singular giant he was. Ragtime would fall out of favor but great melodies Joplin could toss out like coins into a fountain. The modernists like Schoenberg and Berg, even a Tin Pan Alley cat like Gershwin, gathered all the glory of posterity. Rites of Spring still has devotees bending their knees in fealty (Stravinsky borrowed much from early jazz). I'd argue for Joplin is at least as deserving of knee bending. He doesn't get nearly the credit he deserves. (I think Rifkin plays it a little too fast but I'm not gonna hate him on it.)




152) Duke EllingtonPrelude to a Kiss: Pure sweet melody: There's so many little golden nuggets in this tune, just drop the needle in anywhere and it's achingly beautiful. Though, I think Prelude is a misnomer: I hear a Post-Mortem to a Kiss. It's too beautiful to be happy and sadness is where all the beauty comes from because, as we know, everything ends—beauty most dramatically. It's too precious to exist for long. (Forgive me, that was a downer.) Anyway, Ellington could never have existed without Joplin first and let's just thank the universe that they both did.






153) Spirit, Twelve Dreams of Doctor Sardonicus album: From Los Angeles and 1970 and quite possibly one of the great neglected classics of all time. Every track is a gem of craft and chock full o' bits of jazz, proto-prog and metal, electric folk, psychedelia, blue-eyed soul, and funk back in a time when rock and roll was all of that. Possibilities, man! Just like any new relationship when you don't know any better and believe you can do anything. And people were listening––Jimmy Page for one. Spirit was one of a crop from an historically fertile Los Angeles period and blah-blah-blah that we'll never see again. Just be glad it happened once. I love this @*%$ing town!

Nature's Way by Spirit on Grooveshark

Animal Zoo by Spirit on Grooveshark

Mr. Skin by Spirit on Grooveshark




154) Magazine, TV Baby: A b-side with three lines of lyric probably tossed off as filler in an hour or two of unused studio time and it ends up being one of the best things the band ever did. Easily one of Howard Devoto's most intense vocals demonstrating what he was capable of before his latter period descent into self parody as an auditioner for a Keenan Wayans directed Music Man. Also why, IMHO, Magazine was (briefly) one of the best bands of their period. All accomplished with some of the hardest ass boogie woogie styled piano you'll hear, no guitar, a first-year student level saxophone (that's perfect), and a drummer who drives the whole dirty thing straight into its adorable little heart of darkness. Later this song would pop up on their leftovers album Scree and I'd play it over and over on repeat. It went straight into my own little heart of darkness which is what the best music is supposed to do.

T.V. Baby by Magazine on Grooveshark


155) Supergrass, I Should Coco album: The first Supergrass album sounds a little like Pablo Honey Radiohead on happy meds and the best of '70s era Brit Invasion. If you, like me, believe in songs über alles then this is a band you should know. This trio of young 'uns obviously spent some time with their parent's record collections and to good effect—guitars, analog keys, harmonica, hooky falsetto background choruses, it's like the '90s never happened and that's just fine all right. These are songs that bring you in on the first hearing. Verily.

P.S. As to "She's So Loose": Why are boys always complaining about "loose" women? Why hate the giver of the gift so? Jesus, stop with the judging, thank your good fortune, and STFU!


She's So Loose by Supergrass on Grooveshark

Caught by the Fuzz by Supergrass on Grooveshark


156) Miles Davis, Fat Time: Sure, Miles was some phat cat with that whole Birth of Cool, Gil Evans collabs, and Bitches Brew thing. Sacreligious maybe but I really dig this album and the later period rock stuff with all the guitar noodling. Miles knew what he was doing. He could've made Kind of Blue in his sleep for 30 years but that wasn't Miles. He was the Peck's Bad Boy of jazz. He liked to kick his fans' expectations in the shins and The Man with the Horn was where it really began in earnest. He's not shouting here, just whispering (note that he never pulls the mute out of his horn). A groove as deep as a foxhole, no changes so the players didn't have distract themselves with any charts, just dynamics, bangin' and blowing while the maestro sits by and smokes a pack, shoots up, snorts a brick, tilts back a bottle or whatever he was doing in those days while he waits his turn to blow that shriek at the end. This is cool because Miles was cool and that's that.

Fat Time by Miles Davis on Grooveshark



157) The StranglersThe Raven album: I had a girlfriend once who was a Stranglers evangelist and tried to convert me to them for years. I'll say I liked their 'boards and by the '80s no one played them like that anymore (it was all one finger thin synth lines and harmonic anorexia), but much of the rest sounded like a rehash in faux punk drag with some edging of New Wave. There was also an uncomfortable malevolence and misogyny (Bring on the Nubiles, et al). Not that there weren't moments, but The Raven was different. It's baroque sound sucked me in (I'm a sucker for harpsichords) and it was much more restrained and mature than anything previous. (They needed some maturity.) The rockers rocked (The Raven below, Dead Loss Angeles) and the slow ballad (Don't Bring Harry, also below) is one of the best things they ever did. From this album their sound continued on a trajectory of softening. But The Raven was their peak and it's a pretty tall one.

Ice by The Stranglers on Grooveshark


The Raven by The Stranglers on Grooveshark


Don’t Bring Harry by The Stranglers on Grooveshark

Friday, August 23, 2013

Do old game consoles dream of electric sheep?


A "remix" of Radiohead's Nude as performed on old-ass technogizmos. The creator is James Houston and his "band's" line-up is as follows and the results are rather ingenious: 

Sinclair ZX Spectrum - Guitars (rhythm & lead)
Epson LX-81 Dot Matrix Printer - Drums
HP Scanjet 3c - Bass Guitar
Hard Drive array - Act as a collection of bad speakers - Vocals & FX.

Big Ideas (don't get any) from James Houston on Vimeo.

As seen at TheFoxIsBlack.

Another more recent video of the work of Houston in a collaboration with Julian Corrie.

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

A Los Angeles Blues in Pink


Ciro Hurtado is a Lima, Peru born guitarist who's been living in the U.S. since emigrating in 1975 to study at the Guitar Institute of Technology. Earlier in his career he worked with the flashy guitar ensemble Strunz and Farah. Interesting to note that his Grammy winning mature style is much more subdued and compositionally based than the pyrotechnical style of Strunz and Farah. Rather than go all apes**t a la, say, Al Dimeola, which he's certainly capable, he chooses an understated approach that is, IMHO, much more effective.

But enough about him. Duly noted, Hurtado's style also veers much too close to the MOR style that we usually eschew here at Jellyroll. But, as you'll note in his various videos, Hurtado often features babes dancing provocatively to his music. The dancer below is an example of particularly impressive example. While the pulse of the music is much more NyQuil, the dancer goes totally Red Bull, an excellent choice to pump some blood into this otherwise pleasant lullaby.

Beyond the obvious charms of her good looks, physical presence, and that excitable skirt she's working, I guarantee that you'll agree she has the most infectious and natural smile you'll ever see on a dancer anywhere. The smile is of course the only reason why we've posted this. Please, we have standards here (sometimes).

Enjoy and prepare to smile. BTW, her name is April Espejo and she is with the Los Angeles based dance company Raices Peruanas.


Here's what the composer has to say:

When we talk about Peruvian music, many people envision the panpipes and flutes of the music of the Andes. Since the '60s Andean musicians have been playing for tips in the subways and parks from Paris to Anchorage. However, In the past 10 years or so, Afro Peruvian music has been making great inroads in the World Music scene. Before the '50s, there were practically no records of Afro Peruvian music played on the radio in Peru. My knowledge of Afro Peruvian music was relegated to the "Tamaleros," who were the Afro-Peruvians who would come to our neighboorhoods in Lima to sell tamales. Generally the group was composed of tumba (conga) and cow bell players. They would start playing a descarga "jam" and a couple of kids would dance to the beat. After the show they would sell hot tamales from big bamboo baskets. 
Nicomedes Santa Cruz, a folklorist, poet, and writer, was the pioneer of Afro Peruvian music. His album Cumana was the first album to make it to the Peruvian airwaves in the mid '50s.
In 1995, David Byrne, the singer of Talking Heads signed a group of Vals and Afro Peruvian musicians to his label Luaka Bop. The album, The Soul of Black Peru made it to the top of the charts. Suzana Baca became an international star because of this album.

I wrote the piece La Negrita Tomasa as a vocal piece a few years ago. This instrumental arrangement for Guitar and Cajon played by Julio Ledezma was recorded for my album Los Angeles Blues. I wrote the piece in the Zapateado (footwork) style.


There were a number of typos and errors in the originally posted draft. They have been since corrected. Apologies!