As Ozzy ages, he gets more interesting. What, you say? How could 40 years of being on a bender be less interesting that what he’s doing now? Well, his has been an incredible life, no doubt. But I would argue that all those years drugged out of his mind have led to his current state, as some sort of media darling. The safe and tame media darling, who used to be crazy but now is just pretending to be evil… isn’t he?
It’s the only way a TV show like The Osbournes could have happened. And it’s the only way a concept like Dr. Ozzy could ever have come about. And yes, it seems obvious that someone else wrote the book after cobbling together Ozzy’s mumblings and rantings, especially the sensible bits. But who cares? There is actually some great advice scattered through these pages, if you’re looking for that sort of thing. But more pleasingly, there are tons of opportunities to laugh out loud, more than you would probably credit. They should have called this book Advice From Left Field, because that’s what you get from him.
Same as when I read his recent biography, Ozzy made me laugh. He’ll make you laugh, too. Something that coked-out-of-his-ass Ozzy from the 70s would have been unlikely to achieve. Or, if he did, you need more help than this book can offer.
Me First And The Gimme Gimmes – Sing In Japanese
I love these guys, which I’ve said in these pages several times before. Their brash and yet respectful punk cover versions of everything from John Denver to Willie Nelson (by way of Boyz II Men and the Beach Boys, too) please me to no end.
There is certainly a precedent for their doing oddball things. In fact, it could be considered their modus operandi. Their last EP is cover tunes of Australian artists only, their live album was recorded at some kid’s bar mitzvah. They dressed in drag and covered Tomorrow from Annie. But this one, hooboy, it’s from deep left field. Six tracks, actually sung in Japanese. I didn’t know any of these songs, making it the first time in their growing discography that they’ve specifically chosen music most of us are not likely to have heard, unless you’re fan of Japanese music (of course). Thanks for the introduction, though, boys!
Kai Band’s Hero rocks along nicely. Tulip’s Kokoro No Tabi is a pleasing sing along (if you speak the language). Takuro Yoshida’s Kekkon Shiyoyo has a slightly country feel to it (through the Gimme Gimme filter, of course). The Tigers’ C-C-C rocks harder (and has hand claps!). The breakdowns here are in English, though I have no way of knowing if the original did. Funny when they shush us, though. Kaze’s 22 Sai No Wakare keeps the pace frantic (nice how the EP speeds up as it goes). And then The Blue Hearts’ Linda Linda pulls the rug out of the speed-fest with a reggae beat. And trumpets! Of course, it still blasts away in spots, too. Sweet!
There is a precedent in rock history for bands to do special things for their fans in the East, like area-specific live albums and the venerable Japanese Versions of albums, which invariably include rare extra tracks only available on said releases. Maybe this is their gift to their fans out there. Or maybe, given their goofy natures, they just love karaoke. Kudos to them for learning enough Japanese (or at least memorizing the lyrics to these six songs) and managing the whole affair quite credibly.
It’s another great EP from the Gimmes. I may not play it as much as their other stuff, but every so often it’ll give me a chuckle to hear just how far they’re willing to go in their pursuit of making all kinds of music their own.
Sloan – Live On (promo single)
Picked this up from a used shop online. Apparently, they technically don’t sell these things because it’s illegal, so it was (probably) to their relief that I ordered it.
Nothing fancy, just the album version of the song, and a radio edit which removes a whopping 0:13 from the album version. I didn’t notice which 0:13 it was, exactly. I was too busy rocking out. Whatever, it’s a cool song. Chunky AC/DC-like riff, straight drum beat, and a cowbell! A monster in concert, and it fits the album proper perfectly too. Just a great Sloan track. Deserves constant radio play.
The packaging is standard jewel case (not a thin cardboard crappy one like some promo CDs), with period-matching ‘ghosting’ image of the band on a lovely grey/blue background, and tray sheet too. There’s a little booklet in the lid, as well. The only odd thing is, for a promo CD, it doesn’t mention which album it’s from anywhere in the text. Weird. I mean, as Sloan fans, we all know Action Pact like the back of our hands, but the exclusion of such basic information, when the producers, engineers and mixers get a listing, is odd.
Anyway, as a Sloan fan, I’m glad this artifact washed up on my shores… even if I technically had to participate in illegality to get it. Sorry CRIA, I won’t name names.
GBV! GBV! GBV!
Guided By Voices was on Letterman, recently, to promote Let’s Go Eat The Factory, the first new record by the original line-up in WAY too long.
The version they blasted out kicked ass, of course.
And Greg Demos, bass player, slipped and fell, landing right on his ass. He got back up and kept playing, but he probably walked funny for a day or so.
Check it:
Two giants on the stage, surrounded by an ace band, ripping through an impeccable set list of old blues songs. One CD, and a DVD, too. What a set, what a night! The enduring impression I have of hearing this is of a stage-full of incredibly gifted players, lost in the joy of both making music and paying homage to the history that gave it to us. Let’s hope that this is only the first of many collaborations between these two superlative players and their friends.
To say I loved this would be unparalleled understatement.
Ice Cream is a great old jump boogie in that old party style, bringing turn of the last century ‘jass’ one hundred years into the future. Glorious. Lots of solo turns, and each is phenomenal. If you’re not tapping your foot along to this, stop listening now.
Move without much pause into the sweetly loping Forty-Four. Clapton’s vocals growl, just like they did on his From The Cradle record. The guitar is much more to the fore in this track, and that relentless piano echoing the snare drum is hypnotic. We get more huge solos, all tastefully dirty and suiting the song. The liner notes list this as written by Chester Burnett, but you might know him by the name Howlin’ Wolf. Or, if you’re an afficianado, maybe you know Roosevelt Sykes’ earlier take on it. So hot.
In the Notes On Play The Blues inside the booklet, Wynton describes WC Handy’s Joe Turner’s Blues here as a ‘southern slow drag,’ and that it sure is. It’s so sweet, playing at half speed is just as powerful as the finger-twisting speed of other tracks here. This is lazy afternoon music, hell, maybe even funeral march music.
Louis Armstrong’s The Last Time opens with a sweet clarinet, which makes way for a really fat-toned trumpet by Wynton. That must’ve been Clapton saying “yeah!” during the intro. The clarinet comes back and you can’t help but smile. The band members are surely enjoying it. The vocals ride in on a wave of piano, followed by just great instrumentation all around. These cats are just revelling in it. Hot damn.
W.C. Handy’s Careless Love is another slow stomper, though the horns in the background are lightly kinetic. A sweet mix of slow and agile. Clapton’s vocals mix perfectly with his bluesy guitar line, and holy hell what a solo! And that trumpet… I need to play this CD over and over and just let that horn seep into my blood. I do believe I will.
Head straight into the Kidman Blues, which double-times it straight into a dance jive that’ll make you move no matter what you’re doing otherwise. Fun! Stand-out here is the piano through the whole tune. There’s a wall of horns, they’re all yammering at once, but no one is stepping in the way of any other. Another huge guitar solo… all of it stunning.
A big, messy teaser intro leads into a dirge-like Layla. It takes the crowd a while to pick up the hint of what it is, but when they do, they love it. It’s interesting how well this song fits in with the surrounding standards and classic old blues. Clapton has played with variations of this track many times through the years. At this version’s pace, the tune becomes even more plaintive, even more pained. Clapton’s guitar solo is incendiary, and when Wynton takes over to solo, the tune starts to swing before sliding back. So cool.
Joliet Bound is pure old blues jamming from Memphis Minnie, with a propulsive beat like an old steam engine at full throttle. What a harrowing tale, and Chris Crenshaw’s vocals are great. “I’ve been drinking white lightning, it’s gone to my head” indeed. A great muted horn solo. I swear.
Then we’re swept to a New orleans side street as a funeral procession glides past, the band marching sweetly through Just A Closer Walk With Thee. Just let it wash over you. You’ll find yourself wishing it would never end. Taj Mahal’s vocals are also really great. Then, around the six and a half minute-mark, one of those great drum breakouts appears from the sadness, enough to make you shake your moneymaker and not care who was watching. From there the track takes off into a gleeful blast of happy jazz.
Ostensibly the concert ends here, though Mahal comes back for a jaunt through Corrine, Corinna, which is just a great party track. He even brings a banjo. Yeah, man. Yeah. You can surely tell the band can’t get enough, they’d play all night. This last volley is just gravy. Delicious, jazzy gravy.
Please. Buy This. Even if it’s the only jazz CD you’d own. Damn. This might be my album of the year.
***
And then I did it all over again, this time watching the DVD of the same performance. But the DVD is so much more than that!
Sure, we get all of the performances with mostly good camera-work (some of it does jump around on zoom disorientingly fast), and a bit more of the stage banter that was edited from the CD. That’s the part of shows like this that I love. The little stories between songs, the stuff of life that the final product wouldn’t otherwise give you.
It’s fun to watch these musicians ply their trade, but I still have to say that I’m glad I played the CD first. Sort of like when you’re glad you read the book before seeing the movie. It’s better when your mind takes in the music first, before the distractions of watching them move and play in the film takes over. The latter is much more passive. However you look at it, though, this stuff is BRILLIANT.
And as if that isn’t enough, there are patches of documentary-style footage as well, backstage shots of band members, with voices-overs from Wynton. One of the most poignant things he says, (I think it was during the end credits), is that to have all of these amazing musicians together, they were really trying to come from a place of quality. Make the most of it, you know? Right on, brother. Right on. It’d be so easy for these guys to get together, whip off some old songs like it weren’t no thing, and the crowd would still go nuts. I appreciate the time and effort they clearly put into this whole production. That’s the real gift to us, right there.
As a bonus track on the DVD, Taj Mahal comes back to the stage solo and rips off a pretty stellar version of Stagger Lee. On its own, this is really neat. It also seems a little out of context of the setting of full band we’d enjoyed for the whole show. Was it an afterthought? Were they standing around right after the band left the stage following Corrine, Corrina and somebody said, ‘hey, Taj, go play your cool version of that old song?’ Who knows. Who cares? But it doesn’t add a whole lot to the main experience.
Overall, the DVD is just as much fun to watch as the CD is to listen to… again, and again, and again, and…
Buy this set, already. Go on!
RS Is At It Again
When I saw Rolling Stone magazine’s Top 100 Guitarists (RS 1145), I thought ‘cool!’ These lists are always slightly off, but it oughta be a good read. Right?
WRONG! I had to hold back my bile as I saw their rankings. When I looked at who had voted, there were some great names there. But who chose the order? How did this abomination even happen?
I prepared a great big rant in my head, all about how wrong the list was, how the ordering was askew and disproportionate, and how I just hate RS magazine in general. And then, in the middle of the brewing tirade, I had a moment of clarity. The sun broke through the cumulous storm clouds and I understood. The list is idiotic. Most of what passes for music journalism in that magazine is idiotic. So it was my fault, really, for expecting better of them. For hoping that they might (for once) do something of interest and value. And after that, I felt so much better, though I still had a zillion questions…
One might not argue with Hendrix at #1. Or you might, I dunno. That’s a getting-high late-night debate. But really, for the top 15, they’re all interchangeable. It’s lower in the list that the weirdness begins.
How is it that Bonnie Raitt and Joni Mitchell are the only two women (out of the 100 players) in the list? (Though they let four other women vote).
How is it they can include James Hetfield and not Kirk Hammett (though he got a vote)?
How is it they can leave the (surely deserving) Mike McCready off the list (though he too got a vote)? Or, for that matter, Brian May! A vote, but no place on the list!
How is it that Jack White can rank one place higher than Robert Johnson? All deference to Jack, but C’MON! Even if you were to argue that this is a matter of personal taste, or that modern readers would better identify with White’s playing, it is still true that Johnson would play circles around White.
Dimebag Darrell is #92 out of 100? Joe Perry is #84? Hell, Muddy Waters is buried way back at #49?!?! And WTF is Alex Lifeson doing totally insulted way down at #98? Have you people even heard any Rush songs other than Tom Sawyer?
Where is Django Reinhardt? Buddy Guy? Steve Vai? Or Jeff Healey (don’t forget, he could play WAY better than you, and he was blind!)?. Why is Kurt Cobain #73 while Joe Perry is #84? To whom does this make even a twisted sort of sense?
I could go on. And on.
Again, I just have to shake my head and tell myself not to get so worked up about this. Very little in this magazine pleases me. I don’t even know why I continue to read it. But honestly, people, if you’re gonna go to all the work of making a cover story for a national music magazine about the Top 100 Guitarists Of All Time, could you not at least try to have it make some sense?
Even knowing it’s an idiotic list, it still makes me tired. And mad. Screw you, RS.
Sloan: A Christmas Beauty
Oh internets, let me tell you an amazing story… a Christmas tale to warm the heart of even the most inveterate Scrooge.
You see, I am a Sloan fan. Have been for years (the first show of theirs I saw, which was my introduction to them, was in the fall of 1993). Over the years, I’ve bought all of their records, and seen them in concert five times. I know most of the words to their discography, and surely every note of every song. Their music makes me very happy.
A little while ago the band released an official bootleg vinyl, of a 1993 show in Winnipeg – which, as luck would have it, was from a couple of months before the show I attended on that same first tour mentioned above. For this edition, there were only 300, hand-numbered copies pressed. 25 of those copies would come with an original poster from that tour, golden ticket-style.
Of course, my lovely wife and I spent a good part of the day that it went on sale attempting to buy a copy through the band’s web site. Neither of us could get through, and we were among the many who were fruitlessly jamming the servers. We finally gave up, and without an order placed.
I placated myself, knowing that this was a special release, yes, and I do now have a record player, sure, but it was quite alright to not get one. After all, these rare things are fleeting. Besides, the band posted the tracks for free download the day after the records sold out, and so I managed to get the album in MP3 for free. Still, that’s not anywhere near as cool as having the vinyl, but so be it.
Fast-forward a few weeks and it’s Christmas. James had mailed wonderfully-wrapped parcels for us and our kids, easily on time for the big day. Our gifts to him and his lovely wife remained here until well after Christmas because I am completely disorganized and I suck, but that’s another tale all by itself.
And so came the big day and… well, you can probably see where this is going…
James had got through to the site, that fateful day.
And James sent me a copy of the Sloan vinyl.
Number 95 of 300.
I couldn’t speak. I just stared at it. My lovely wife says she had an inkling of what it was before I opened it, but I honestly had no idea. Sure, the parcel was vinyl-shaped, but it never crossed my mind to even consider this particular album as a possibility. It could have been anything (there are a ton of vinyls I’d like to own). But this…
I had the video camera at hand, and from the throes of my initial shock, I recorded my thanks. A video sent almost immediately to James which, I realized only later, contained an f-bomb. Imagine. James said it was a beautiful f-bomb.
You know, I haven’t opened it, the vinyl. I don’t know if I have a poster or not. James had also got one for his lovely wife, and she didn’t get a poster. Neither did the guy I’m in contact with from the record shop in Kitchener, who also managed to get a copy.
Somehow, I’m not ready to open it yet. It’s just such a beautiful, thoughtful gesture. I still just stare at it… Fine, I’m a geek. I can live with that. And yes, it would drive most people nuts, to not know if there’s a poster in there or not. Oh, I will open it. When I’m ready.
James. Thank you.
SLCR 164 – Stuart McLean – December 6, 2011
The best way I can explain Stuart McLean to my American friends is to say that he's similar to Garrison Keillor. Unfortunately, I've never actually heard any Garrison Keillor, so maybe I'm very wrong. One sentence in and I may have just corrupted this review for an entire nation. Please don't make me explain Stuart McLean to Azerbaijanis.
Stuart McLean hosts a radio show called The Vinyl Cafe where he tells humourous, heartwarming, folksy stories, usually about one specific family. I looked it up and the family's last name has never actually been said, which would have been helpful to know before I started that last sentence. I was going to say "about the _______ family" but had to abruptly change course. It reads a bit awkward now. Anyway, McLean criss-crosses Canada, telling stories and hosting musical guests at live shows recorded for the CBC. Every December, he embarks on a special Christmas-themed tour. I've always liked his stories and wanted to go to one of these shows. When I found out that Hawksley Workman would be this year's musical guest, I wasn't about to pass it up.
McLean took the stage with no fanfare to surprise us with the news that the Regina show was the one Christmas show that would be recorded for play on the CBC. Of course, he encouraged loud crowd reactions for the recording, and he got them. In fact, some folks were only too eager to participate. It should be no surprise that the audience for a CBC storytelling show would skew old, but you can still get those people to make some noise. In fact, on two separate occasions, McLean merely had to say "Dave cooked the turkey" to get people hooting like when the lead singer at a rock concert says the name of the city he's in.
At our show, McLean's first two stories were about Sam bringing home the class ferret, and Dave taking their neighbour's car through the car wash. You've either heard these stories already or, more likely, this last sentence meant nothing to you. I've done reviews of spoken-word gigs before and I really don't like to go into the details of what was said – they're not my stories to tell. I've had too many movies ruined for me because someone felt the need to tell me all the good parts beforehand. I mean, I don't imagine anyone will ever read this and be inspired to track down the full stories, but there's always a chance, you know?
Having said that, I do know that keeping the details to myself makes those stories sound pretty dull. I suppose this is a review, allegedly, so I should review the stories. The car wash one was funnier. There.
Neither of these stories were really ABOUT Christmas, unlike the evening's third story; a tale of Dave's childhood and the hockey game he wanted for Christmas one year. It and the Story Exchange story (where McLean reads a story sent in by a listener) made it onto the final radio broadcast.
Before the show, McLean pointed out that since they were taping this show, he might have to re-read a few lines if something got flubbed. There was one spectacular point where he producer rushed the stage to let him know that Dave's age accidentally changed by several years. I'm a little sad this didn't make it into the final airing.
Through the night, the stories were interspersed with songs by Hawksley Workman. I knew from previous Christmas radio shows that we weren't likely to get a lot of Hawksley throughout the evening, and indeed, he only sang a handful of songs. They were all off his Christmas album, Almost A Full Moon, so that was neat – I've never heard most of those songs played live before. I know we got the title track and Three Generations – those made it into the radio broadcast – and he also played Common Cold. I think there was a fourth and I think it was First Snow Of The Year, but I'm not 100% certain there.
Hawksley opened up by telling a long story about his grandmother, whom he was very close to. He's a very entertaining storyteller – mayhaps he can take over for Stuart McLean someday – but I think the funny stories may have confused the audience. I know he can be an oddball when he wants to be, but the crowd sure seemed to like to laugh during his songs at parts that weren't funny. "LOL," said the senior citizens, "he's listing soup ingredients!"
Along with everything else, there was a 12 Days of Christmas segment which felt a bit long to me and was probably the weakest part of the evening, in my opinion. We got a Christmas carol medley by the pianist – spoiler: everyone loves A Charlie Brown Christmas – and McLean also spent time giving away books and CDs to the youngest and oldest folks in the audience. Some of the kids were really cute. Maybe some of the old folks were too? I mean, I didn't see them, but it would be rude to assume otherwise.
Going to the show was the first Christmassy thing I did this year, and I can see why people would make this a tradition. It was a lighthearted evening of music and family and all of those good Christmas things. The broadcast version of the show is available free on iTunes under Vinyl Cafe in the CBC podcasts. It's missing a fair bit from the two-and-a-half-hour show that we got, but it hits the highlights – you should go check it out, just in time for… January. I really need to get on these things sooner.
Upcoming shows:
- February 4: Norm Macdonald which I probably won't write a review for
- March 14: Electric Six
- March 28: John K. Samson w/Shotgun Jimmie
- August 10-12: Regina Folk Festival
SLCR #163: The Tea Party (November 22, 2011)
You need to know two things about The Tea Party:
1)- I saw them in concert at the campus bar on Halloween 15 years ago. There was a girl there in a Jeannie costume (as in "I Dream Of…") and that remains one of the highlights of my concert-going history.
2)- They own teaparty.com which means that they're essentially instant millionaires if they sell now, and the internet tells me that they're going to. Does that mean we can rule out "for the money" if I wonder why they're back together after a lengthy hiatus?
You also need to know that I didn't feel like going to this show. I often don't; I buy tickets well in advance, and then the day rolls around, and then I think that maybe laying around doing nothing would be pretty good too. It is my area of expertise and I like what I know. But this time, I had never had any interest in going. Mika wanted to see them and I was pretty much just along for the ride. She paid, so I was fine with this.
The opener was The Reason, a band I'd never heard of. We showed up after they were already done. I will assume they were great and will go on to immediate massive fame and will never come back here. I make this joke every time I miss the opening act, I think. And I think I make this observation every time as well.
Given that I wasn't too gung-ho about the show in the first place, we really timed our arrival perfectly. We walked in, took our spots at the back of a massive wall of people, and the Tea Party took the stage about five minutes later. I wish I wrote this review the day after the show instead of six weeks after, so I could document exactly what time we got there. It would be quite the handy time to know.
The wall of people did surprise me. I am not exaggerating when I said that I last saw The Tea Party 15 years ago, and I really don't know what they've done since then. I know there was a lengthy breakup somewhere along the line. I'd ask Mika for details but she's playing LA Noire, and I'd search the internet except I don't really care. As far as I was concerned, they put out one CD that I listened to somewhere around 1996 (The Edges of Twilight – I had to look it up), followed it up with a few more albums that I never bothered with, and then I forgot about them entirely. I figured that's how it was for everyone else too; I forget sometimes that the whole world doesn't consist solely of things that I see and know about. There was an entire sold-out club full of people who hadn't forgotten about The Tea Party.
And these people were drunk. My goodness. It has been a long time since I have been around that many people who were that drunk and that loud. There was shouting, shoving, stumbling, and presumably a wide range of other S-words. I am not opposed to the drink, but if I'm driving, I'm not going to be drinking. And like everyone, my tolerance for drunks depends entirely on my own state. This is a roundabout way of saying that I wanted to stab a whole lot of people by the time the night was over.
Anyway, the show. I wouldn't say The Tea Party was the best show I saw all year, but it might have been the one that most exceeded my expectations. Granted, I'd set the bar pretty low, but as much as I hate surprises, I do like being pleasantly surprised.
The first half of the show was pretty much straight-up rock, which I wouldn't have guessed. Back when I half-heartedly followed the band, they had the reputation for being pretentious. The band was known for incorporating Middle Eastern influences into their music, and lead singer Jeff Martin seemed to fancy himself a Jim Morrison type. But there really wasn't much of that at this show. The band seemed almost laid-back, with Martin chatting amiably with the crowd. The second half of the show did feature more of the old songs that I knew, which was nice, but those songs did kinda drag on compared to the newer ones. At least to me; Mika liked the older stuff better.
Also, there was a theremin somewhere in here, which was neat.
We left shortly into the encore. Being old, I was fine with this, but I would also have been fine with sticking it out to the bitter end. I have to score this as quite the victory for The Tea Party, since I was ready to leave pretty much as soon as I got there.
Miles Davis – Kind Of Blue
[Columbia Legacy 88697680571-S1 1959/2010]
[HQ 180 gram heavyweight audiophile vinyl]
This record was a gift from my wife, knowing that we both absolutely love every note contained within these grooves. The 180 gram vinyl sounds phenomenal, even on my basic stereo system.
What could I tell you about this Deserted Island Top 10 List, One Of The Best-Ever Jazz Records disc that you don't already know? I just love it. Love it, love it, love it.
Here:
Miles Davis, Julian 'Cannonball' Adderley, Paul Chambers, James Cobb, John Coltrane, Bill Evans and Wynton Kelly.
SIDE A
So What
Freddie Freeloader
Blue In Green
SIDE B
All Blues
Flamenco Sketches
That is all.
