Why is it the French insist on adding cream to everything?
With Nadine, that’d be whipped: In this video of I Wanna Be a Rolling Stone from 1978, French pop singer Nadine Expert shows herself – or was handled – to be quite the provocateur, if only not musically. Not much to be found on her online that wasn’t written in Russian or French so I’ve no idea of her backstory; maybe she doesn’t need one. The one upfront seems to be the one that mattered most. According to a Facebook page, she released three singles, an album, and appeared on French television. She was 21 when the video was shot.
Around the same time as this video, a friend would drag me to see the very popular stage show Beatlemania. At the time I saw it, they’d a McCartney look alike on bass who’d learned to play left-handed. None of that changed the fact that it sounded like a bar band in costumes standing before screens of contemporary newsreels. My friend didn’t seem to mind: But then, he was from Las Vegas. I just kept thinking, Forget this.I should go give those records another listen. I’d be way more absorbed by Ms Expert’s performance here.
Listen up, kiddos: Once there was a band called Led Zeppelin and they ruled the world. Back in the dinosaur-friendly Jurassic – 1969-1976, the period before the In Through the Out Door album, I don’t bother with that one – many Western cave shelters had Zeppelin records on their shelves sitting next to a whole variety of other eclectic musicks. For my older sister, my gateway to the band, they were played in rotation with Cal Tjader, Pentangle, and Barbra Streisand. (My sister is way older than me.)
If you’re of a generation riper than Millennial, you may already suffer from a classic rock radio-induced Zeppelin fatigue. Try to forget that: Take some cleansing breaths and dig into this. (See the vid below.)
First some data: According to a study, music fans are divided into three categories: omnivores, univores, and a third group of omnivores that listens to fusty classical in addition to rock and pop. The majority of us are univores; people tend to be more like univore-like these days.
I’ve personally had some Zeppelin revisionism recently, influenced by the highly disputed (by the band itself – it’s not flattering) but very compelling band muckraker, The Hammer of the Gods(1985). (FYI: Some of its juicier bits are verifiably true, like Jimmy Page’s relationship with a then 15 year-old girlfriend. Google Lori Maddox.) While I can't deny the greatness of some of their output, I’ve had to take them down a few notches.
(Plus, Page’s post-Zeppelin legacy is pretty dismal – c’mon, Cloverdale Page and The Firm? Anyone? – and those weatherbeaten Page and Plant reunions. Though, you have to give props to Plant’s more recent work, especially with Alison Krauss and John Paul Jones’ work with Diamanda Galas and Them Crooked Vultures. Come to think, Page is the only stinker.)
Anyway, for me, the true Zeppelin evergreen has always been Since I've Been Loving You. If you’ve a low threshold gag reflex for unctuous cocktail lounge cheese, you may balk at where Corinne Baily Rae steers this gem to start. If so, then trust me, you’ll love the second half. I prefer the first but whatever: When people without Robert Plant’s Herculean wail try to go toe-to-toe with the original, they come off like a suckas. Rae doesn't go there. She journeys elsewhere else and it’s a brilliant choice.
I took some time off from this blog. Was busied with other things. In that time had a daughter grow into womanhood with an appreciation of (much of the music that) I love too. She also tells me I need to move myself into the 21st century. I promise to do that.
But first, a bit of revisiting done proper. Recommended for anyone who needs a lift right now – and really, who doesn't?
For a generation drunk on histrionic power ballads, coke, over-indulgent fashion, and the constant threat of thermonuclear war, Live Aid may've seemed the perfect sedative: The problem: A severe drought in Ethiopia causing catastrophic stress on food resources. This in turn made worse by the abuses of a ruthless local government. Eventually, as many as 8.5 million would be effected. The response: Back when televisions bulged thicker than the Berlin Wall, the West witnessed the catastrophe play out from the distance of the evening news. The leaky-bleaky hearts of rock's (white) elite community would be spurred into action, or song at least. This spur would eventually take the form of Band Aid in 1984, and then Live Aid a year later.
The brainchild of Irish and Scottish do-gooders and middling has-been rockers Bob Geldof (Boomtown Rats who was temporarily knighted for his effort, the Irish) and Midge Ure (bubble-gum era Ultravox, the Scottish). Beginning successfully with the recording of Do They Know It's Christmasunder the moniker Band Aid, the record raised $24 million. (It'd be re-recorded in 1989 and 2004.)
Live Aid was to be a double concert extravaganza that would live telecast a simultaneous performance from both sides of the Atlantic (London and Philadelphia). The event would also inspire same-day concerts around the world including the Soviet Union, Japan, Canada, and Australia. For its part, the London concert would famously feature The Greatest Live Performance in the History of Rock Music!
In the end, the positive effect of Live Aid has been the subject of debate. It was estimated that the concerts ultimately raised $225 million (£150 million) – that's $526 million in 2018 dollars. Though, it was later estimated that a fat portion of that money was siphoned off by the country's ruthless president and, even more sadly, the starving in Ethiopia only continued, being even worse today.
Back to the viking north of 1985: Wanting to toss their coins to the cause, Sweden responded with their own fund-raising performance featuring 80 of its top metal poodles, blonder than the Playboy mansion grotto and enough flammable hair product to fuel several Hindenburgs. With heaving hearts and unctuous vocalizing, the moussed mob stood together and sang a Joey Tempest ditty (he from the Swedish band best remembered for The Final Countdown) written for the cause: Give a Helping Hand. Take note: The pitchiness in the video may've been an omen: The record sold a paltry 50,000 copies – not enough to cover even Live Aid's craft services. (Though, note that the gender representation is far better than Live Aid’s)
Beyond simply fueling sniggers for our endless amusement, the vid may've also documented the last dying gasps of Nordic hair metal. Several years later the much rawer genres of death and black metal would become all the rage in the hinterlands and these coiffed cuties would be curbed for evermore.
Hipsters have long thought Ennio Morricone was golden cool. This old Italian dude just thinks it’s goodtime music.
If you've seen any of Sergio Leone’s “spaghetti western” Dollars Trilogy (or man with no name trilogy) and heard Morricone's score, you may be amazed at the unique palette of sounds. This was borne out the films’ low budgets and the inability to afford a full orchestra. Instead, Morricone used gunshots, cracking whips, whistle, voices, jew’s harp, trumpets, and the new Fender electric guitar which set his soundtracks far apart from what were the orchestral conventions of Western standards à la John Ford.
In that vein, the old dude’s raw tribute does Morricone its proper justice.
