I’ve just finished reading John and Paul, A love Story in Songs, by Ian Leslie. Even if you are only a casual fan of The Beatles, you owe it to yourself to read this book. Yes, you will read all the usual anecdotes you probably already know. But you will also revel in amazing insights into the most important musical force of your lifetime – however old you are. It’s a beautiful and touching tribute.
A good song will stand up to almost any amount of abuse in the recording studio. For example: most hits by The Rolling Stones before 1978.
Most people probably feel that All Things Must Pass is George Harrison’s best solo work, and if it weren’t for Phil Spector’s sludgy production, I would agree with them.
I’m old enough and sad enough about the current state of affairs to have written several dozen songs lamenting the way we seem to choose to live. But when I hear The Pretender by Jackson Browne, I realize I haven’t come close.
Van Morrison deserves respect as a songwriter, but I wish his songs had been recorded by Springsteen. Take, for example, Domino.
The thing about lists is they are designed to create controversy. Witness Rolling Stone’s 200 Greatest Singers of All Time. Everyone’s going to have a grievance or three. This one’s too low on the list, that one’s too high. And – especially, it would seem, if you’re a Celine Dion fan – why isn’t she (or he) on the list?
But this list created a different problem for me, because for every okay-I-get-it and are-you-serious? on the list there was also a who?
I must be getting old.
I know Chuck Berry only wrote, like, three songs, but all twenty-eight of them are fabulous.
Over the years, I’ve heard lots of criticism about 12-bar blues, all of it boiling down to: it’s boring because it’s so predictable.
Fair enough, but do you know why it’s endured all these years? Because it works.
Check out the lyrics for Dylan’s Desolation Row.
How can one guy be this … insightful, cutting, good, clever, empathic, cynical, hypnotic, intimate?
Thanks, Bob. Wow! Ouch! Right on! Yeah, that’s what I thought.
I think.
Here’s some heresy for you:
Who is the greatest blues songwriter? Willie Dixon? Robert Johnson? Howlin’ Wolf? Muddy Waters? B.B. King?
I think a serious case could be made for one Robert Zimmerman.
Maybe it’s not high art, but poignant lyrics and a thoughtful arrangement
elevate Video Killed the Radio Star above the status of just a silly pop song.
Who’s on your list of tightest bands of all time? Led Zeppelin? U2? The Allman Brothers? Jethro Tull? Yes? AC/DC? Steely Dan?
Have a listen to Melting Pot by Booker T. & the MG’s and tell me they don’t belong.
The Stones should have re-recorded Heart of Stone when they were making Voodoo Lounge. I mean, they were always good, but their musicianship and production was just so much better later on.
In the run up to Bob Dylan’s 80th birthday, there have been dozens of articles offering praise, trivia and insights. As a fan, of course I read them.
One of the more interesting tidbits I picked up was the notion that Dylan’s songs are paintings. You don’t have to understand them. You don’t even have to like them. You only have to know whether they speak to you.
Speaking for myself, they do. Yeah, they do.
You want psychedelic? Listen to I Don’t Live Today by Jimi Hendrix. That’s psychedelic.
Have a listen to The House Is Rockin’ by Stevie Ray Vaughan, then have a listen to Shape I’m In by Arc Angels.
Talk about continuity!
I have a playlist called Rock and Roll Heaven (it’s short; about a hundred songs). The other night when I was listening to it, the first three songs that played were:
Aside from reminding me that the 70’s wasn’t all disco and prog wankarama, what do they have in common? Well, if you made a Venn diagram of the three artists, you’d find humour in the centre.
Sure, John gives one of his overpowering performances where you believe Every. Single. Word.
But John was the funniest guy in a very funny band called The Beatles who were constantly amused that we all took them so seriously. Alice Cooper could never be accused of taking himself seriously. Ditto Ray Davies.
Yes, a lot of us are still hopeful that music can change the world, but it’s a healthy reminder that, although it might not be a joke, Rock and Roll really is just a bit of fun.
Mark Knopfler is an incredible storyteller and gifted poet with a bagful of masterpieces, but his absolute best song is Skateaway.
If Bruce Springsteen had done this song it would have been a number one hit and would have entered the ranks of timeless, beloved anthems. Because it tells you about how the best songs merge with your life – just like The Boss’s most memorable songs do.
The music makes you want to be the story, and the story is whatever is the song.
