Let’s Work Together

Today is Robert Ernest Hite’s 70^th birthday – at least it would have been if he hadn’t died of a heart attack in 1981.

And who was Robert Ernest Hite, you ask?  He was aka Bob The Bear Hite, one of the singers and guitarists in Canned Heat, a truly great boogie rock blues band from the late 60’s.  Oh, and he played flute on Going Up the Country, the unofficial anthem of Woodstock, where they also played.  And some harmonica.

This is the band that gave us On the Road Again, the trippiest blues song ever.  But it was their cover of Wilbert Harrison’s Let’s Work Together (originally Let’s Stick Together) I love best.  Straight ahead blues rock and a sentiment that pretty much summed up the way most folks felt at the time.

I mean, why not work together?  ‘Cause:

            Together we will stand and divided we’ll fall

            Come on now people let’s get on the ball

            And work together, come on, come on let’s work together

Maybe it’s good that Bob The Bear died at the tender age of 38.  He’d be pretty sad with the state of things today.

Happy birthday, Bob.  I’m sticking with you.

For Your Life

I always worry about what I’m going to find in reader’s/listener’s polls because they tend to reflect the conditioning and narrowness of corporate radio.  But Rolling Stone’s Best Led Zeppelin Songs of All Time is a happy exception.

Here’s the list:

 1. Stairway to Heaven

 2.  Kashmir

 3. Achilles Last Stand

 4. Since I’ve Been Loving You

 5. When the Levee Breaks

 6.  Whole Lotta Love

 7.  The Rain Song

 8.  Ramble On

 9.  Ten Years Gone

10. No Quarter

While these songs are common on current radio playlists, most of them are not songs that were big when their respective albums were new.

When Zep IV came out, Black Dog and Rock and Roll were played far more than Stairway to Heaven.  When the Levee Breaks?  Forget it.

When Houses of the Holy was released, Dancing Days and The Song Remains the Same were the popular numbers, not No Quarter and The Rain Song.

On Zep III, Since I’ve Been Loving You was passed over in favour of Celebration Day and The Immigrant Song.

The big exception on the list is Whole Lotta Love, which is a big exception of a song.

The article points out that 78 different songs were nominated, and that’s not surprising.  For most of their existence, Led Zeppelin was just about the biggest thing going.  A ton of great songs didn’t make the list.

But it’s nice to see the fans in charge for a change, you know, not getting trampled under foot by their friends in the boardroom.

Love Interrupted

Wow.  I can’t pretend to really understand what he was doing, but I do know Jack White's 2013 Grammy performance was:

1.  Real

2.  Refreshing in what was a typical, overly sanitized TV show

3.  The only exciting performance of the night

Keep it up Jack.  Never compromise.

Don’t Bring Me Down

So, Sir Paul has recently said – not for the first time, actually – that Yoko didn't break up The Beatles.

You know, at the time I viewed her as a terrible annoyance, but I blamed Paul for the breakup.  You watch Let It Be and you can’t help but see how Paul’s arrogant bossiness was strangling the life out of the best thing that ever happened to music (and a few other things, for that matter).  This followed by publicity thievery when McCartney and Let It Be were released, followed by a decade or so of self-serving I-was-the-one-it-was-all-me horror.

Don’t get me wrong; he put out some terrific music.  He was still Paul McCartney, and you had to love him.  But he ticked me off, and I know I wasn’t alone.

But I was in the minority.  Everyone else blamed Yoko.  It was easy.  She was weird.  She made (a weird) John even weirder.  She arrived on the scene just as things were falling apart.  You can’t blame Paul, for goodness sake!  He’s Paul!  Blame Yoko.

Paul has been making nice with Yoko ever since John died, and the David Frost interview referenced above is hardly a revelation.  What it is, is irrelevant.  No one cares what Paul thinks.  They’ve made up their minds.

I was at a Tom Petty concert a couple of years ago and saw someone wearing a tee-shirt that said “Still Pissed With Yoko.”  That about sums up the situation, Paul.  Good for you for being nice and everything, but you’re gonna have to carry that weight alone, ‘cause we all know she’s so heavy.

Disappearing Acts

Sometimes ideas for lists must seem good until you try to populate them.  Take Rolling Stone’s 13 Rock Stars Who Disappeared list, for example.

Not all rock stars burn out.  Some fade away.  Some gracefully withdraw.  And when they command our attention for so long, we do want to know what happened.  So cool idea.

Then Rolling Stone tries to add an additional twist by measuring people against the (Syd) “Barret Scale”, using him as the benchmark for rock star dropout reclusive weirdness.

Cool idea, but it weakens the argument for including many names on the list.  The article admits that Fats Domino is “more retired than reclusive.”  After making a big deal of what sounds like the mysterious departure of David Bowie, it then admits “it's hard to be a true recluse while you're posing for red carpet photos with your supermodel spouse.”  OK then.

Billy Joel, Grace Slick, The Everly Brothers  -  these people are retired.  John Deacon knew that Queen died with Freddie, so he is smart.  John Frusciante definitely registers on the “Barrett Scale,” but not many of the other names do.  If they really wanted to use this “Barrett Scale,” why didn’t they include Peter Green?  He’s been lurking in the shadows so long the scale could be named after him!

But Joni Mitchell?  She’s always done her own thing.   Sly Stone?  Maybe he sensed he had overstayed his welcome, or used up more than his fair share of public consciousness.

An interesting variation on the list might have been rock stars that walked away while on top:  Little Richard, Conway Twitty, Dave Clark, Linda Ronstadt.  Barrett, Green and Frusciante definitely belong on that list.

Postscript: since the list came out, Bowie actually released a new single and announced a new album.  Not terribly reclusive, then, is it?

Under the Apex

That earlier post about U2 being the last great rock band got me thinking about who gets on the list, relative positioning, etc..

So if we stick with “larger than life” as one category, what’s below that?  I’d have to say “huge and influential.”  Really good.  Not quite larger than life.  As good or better than the “larger than life” folks, but never quite got there.  Maybe broke up or died too soon.

Below that?  Well, important.  Maybe not as big in our consciousness as those in the “huge” category, but very influential.  Just ask the folks on the “huge” list.

Below that would be the legions of acts you really like but …

Throw this all into a graphic and you get something like this:

 

The Beatles, of course, are larger than larger than life.  This is about perception more than taste, but I assume few would argue with the top two tiers.  Notice my indecision on The Police.  Almost got there, but not quite in my book anyway.

Notice my cop-outs on Dylan and Michael Jackson.  I know many would place them along with The Beatles.  Solid arguments could be made for any of the categories, so maybe this is more about taste than perception.

I didn’t get lazy in the “important” category; I just ran out of real estate.  There are simply too many influential blues greats, Motown artists and early rockers to list.  And maybe that’s the point of the graphic; it’s less about ranking and more about connecting.

Your taste – or perception – will differ from mine, so you may have different names, or different positions.  That’s cool.  Go build your own pyramid,

Surrealistic Pillows

Stumbled across this fun list called 50 Things We Wouldn't Have Without The Beatles.

50 things.  That’s a lot.  Some of them even matter, like: long hair, music videos, stadium concerts, concept albums, backmasking, eastern philosophy, and intentional feedback.  Examples of how The Beatles changed the world.  Speaking of which: musicians trying to change the world.

Other things are true but more curious than impactful:  heavy metal (yes, check Helter Skelter), Monty Python’s The Life of Brian (well, if George didn’t have the money …)

50 things is a lot.  So some are a stretch:  Apple (copycat name and logo), Thomas the Tank Engine (Ringo was cool and all, but …), Nirvana?  Cher?  Phil Collins?

Double albums?  In 1968, everyone had a double album!

Maybe 50 is just too many things.  Like, of course we wouldn’t have Beatles cover bands without The Beatles!  And I guess we wouldn’t have had The Monkees, but …

Keeping the list to 20-25 might have bee a good idea.  A shorter list would have contained less whimsy – a definite Beatles characteristic – but would have carried more credibility.  The impact of the guys is immeasurable.  We don’t need a longer list to establish that.

And yes, Ringo was apparently the first to put a pillow inside his kick drum.  And now it’s time to say goodnight.

Cry Me A River

Well, it’s official.  We’re bummed out.  German and Canadian researches have confirmed we prefer sad songs over happy ones.  The last 5 decades have been a slippery slope leading to Downerville.

Analysis of Billboard Hot 100 lists reveals that the number of songs in major keys is half of what it was 50 years ago.  Half.  And the tempo has slowed down.

To Hell with dancing.  We’re on a death march here.  No chirpy up-tempo songs for us!  Life sucks.  Don’t interfere with our misery.

Now, why is that?  I mean, in the 60’s we had the Vietnam War and impending nuclear holocaust.  He only had one (black and white) TV and our parents put on Lawrence Welk when we wanted to watch Get Smart.  Racial discrimination was considered acceptable!  We had reason to be worried.  We should have sung the blues from sunrise to sunset.  But we didn’t.  Life was cool.  We were optimistic.

I mean, everyone had jobs and all, and we hadn’t figured out that politicians lie to their own mothers, and we weren’t watching the planet being destroyed before our very eyes, but still …

OK, I get it.  But life can imitate art, and maybe we just need to buck up and change our tune.  Ain’t nothin’ but sorrow down this road we’re on.

Living in the Material World

Rolling Stone’s Best Albums of the 80's provided a lot less fodder for argument than I expected.

The 80’s began badly.  After a big tease by Elvis Costello, The Cars and other New Wave arrivals, John Lennon got shot, synth players began wearing strap-ons, the guitars disappeared, and everyone began wearing makeup and stuff.

Rolling Stone notes that there were no big musical revolutions like there had been in previous decades.  Nope, just a bizarre retreat into glam, disco, and Broadway silliness.  So I expected a rather moribund scan over a list filled with the likes of Culture Club, George Michael and The Human League.

To be sure, they are all there, but they don’t dominate as much as I had feared.  Here’s the Top 10:

The Clash – London Calling

What’s-his-name – Purple Rain

U2 – Joshua Tree

Talking Heads – Remain In Light

Paul Simon – Graceland

Springsteen – Born in the U.S.A.

Michael Jackson – Thriller

R.E.M. – Murmur

Richard & Linda Thompson – Shoot Out the Lights

Tracy Chapman – Tracy Chapman

Pretty good.  And the rest of the list didn’t give me too much of the creeps.  It’s got Midnight Oil, The Pretenders, more Bruce, Tom Petty (though not near high enough), AC/DC, Lennon, Peter Gabriel, Squeeze, Travelling Wilburys, and Pete Townshend.

Lots of artists get on more than once: Springsteen, Gabriel, U2, The Stones, R.E.M., Talking Heads.  Some should have: Petty, Def Leppard, Townshend.  But overall the synth, dance stuff does not dominate, and much of what was selected actually ages well.

As with most such lists, you get the feeling that there’s an arbitrary pick of some album or other just to include some of the big names.  Take Freedom by Neil Young (#85) for example.  Then as now, Neil put out an album every 9 months or so.  Why that one?  I mean, why not, but …

Biggest surprise: Captain Beefheart was still around in the 80’s?

Disappointing that neither August nor Behind the Sun from Clapton made the list.  Speaking of omissions, no Phil Collins, with or without Genesis?  I was lukewarm on him, but Collins was everywhere that decade.  He was inescapable.  Singing, playing, producing …  Not finding him on the list seems to be against all odds.

Rattle and Hum

I was watching the U2 movie a while back and it occurred to me that U2 was the last great rock band.

Don’t get me wrong; there have been a ton of wonderful bands over the last 20 years or so, but U2 was the last one that was larger than life.  You know, Rolling-Stones-Led-Zeppelin-Queen larger than life.  Can-do-no-wrong larger than life.  Know-they’re-as-big-as-Elvis larger than life.  You-should-listen-up larger than life.

Terrific movie.  If you haven’t seen it, do so.  Kinda interesting insights into the band (and ourselves), and constant reminders that these guys are good.  The musicianship, the energy, the passion  …  awesome.  And, although they have had some great moments over the last 25 years, the film catches U2 at their peak, playing songs from their best period. 

U2 carried on the tradition of rock super-hugeness.  And by the time the movie was made, they were also filling a void.  Zep was done.  Freddie, well not dead yet, but …  The Stones were iffy.  U2 were the last ones standing.

Lotta great bands and fabulous music out there, but no one since has managed to achieve the larger-than-life stature.  It’s a good thing we’ve had the boys from Dublin to carry the torch.

But it’s been a while.  Who’s gonna step up?