Tag Archives: Rock

RIP Scott Weiland, 1967-2015

Scott Weiland has passed away while on tour at the age of 48 (the New York Times Obituary is here). Best known as the lead singer for 1990s hit-making machine Stone Temple Pilots, Weiland had a strong and versatile rock voice, a flamboyantly aggressive stage presence and a penchant for dark lyrics. But he was also a long time substance abuser, including periods of serious heroin use, and that definitely compromised his abilities on stage if not in the studio. In fact, he was kicked out of STP more than once and also by the “supergroup” Velvet Revolver (basically Guns ‘n Roses without Axl Rose), the band he joined in 2002 after he was booted by STP for the first time. In later years he revealed he had been sexually assaulted as a young boy so if he went looking for something strong to numb that pain while appearing to live the “glamorous” drug-fueled life of a rock star who could really blame him?

A distant sixth behind Nirvana, Soundgarden, Screaming Tress, Pearl Jam and Alice In Chains in the rankings of the biggest Grunge Heavyweights, Stone Temple Pilots were also seen by many as opportunistic California carpetbaggers as opposed to genuine practitioners of Seattle’s own proud hometown music genre. But on any given single or any given concert performance STP could really rock it and in fact they brought a pleasingly tacky and grandiose arena-oriented feel to the scene. Their first two (and best) albums, Core (1992) and Purple (1994), show such a dichotomy of sonic approaches — Core almost like parody version of Pearl Jam with a harder edge and nastier themes and Purple departing comfortably for polished power pop territory — that the distinct impression is not so much a band wedded to a particular genre but rather a band without a real identity yet still making music so well-crafted and executed that they can’t help but churn out huge hits. So much so that for some of us who were young and impressionable in the 90s, STP’s music is indelibly part of the soundtrack of our youth right alongside their more highly regarded rivals.

And if Weiland’s voice was not really a match in distinctiveness when pitted against Chris Cornell, Eddie Vedder, Mark Lanegan, Layne Staley or even the shrieking of Kurt Cobain, he was nonetheless a top-notch rock frontman with the ability to cover a wide range from laid back nasal to growling bellow to belted out ballad. Those first two STP albums hold up remarkably well some 20+ years later despite — or maybe because of — their lack of stylistic similarity. And Scott Weiland’s formidable vocals are a big reason why. If his subsequent career and life was something of a mess and neither he or the band could ever match those heights again, well, that’s hardly a unique story in Rock ‘n Roll history is it? The simple fact is that Scott Weiland had the chops and sheer will to make himself into a rock star, performed like a rock star and definitely lived like a rock star. It’s also a fact that his chosen vocation probably killed him before he turned 50. It’s sad but certainly not unexpected. Weiland lived longer than most people thought he ever would and a hell of a lot longer than his contemporaries Kurt Cobain and Layne Staley. Nobody ever said rock stars are promised a ripe old age, particularly those who don’t change their wicked ways. And once again, for the umpteenth time, we have proof of that. But what else would Scott Weiland have done with his life if not live fast, die young and leave a pile of hit records behind? Would he — could he — really have done it any differently?

 

Earworm of the day — Don’t Take Me Alive by Steely Dan

Saw Steely Dan live not too long ago and this song has been bouncing around my brain since then. Don’t let the highly refined sounds fool you — this is one dark & paranoid mofo!

 

From 1976’s The Royal Scam, the Dan’s fifth studio album, “Don’t Take Me Alive” features the typcial tight musicianship, tricky song construction and world weary lyrics the group’s fans treasure so dearly. There’s also the requisite killer guitar solos, this time from studio ace Larry Carlton. Between his searing licks here and on “Kid Charlemagne” you can see why he was one of the most in demand session guitarists in his day. And with lyrics like “Got a case of dynamite/I could hold out here all night” the song is steeped in that creeping dread and burnt out neurosis so specific to the dystopian 70s. Is the protagonist a refugee from the Weather Underground making a last stand? A lone renegade fleeing familial discord under Shakespearean circumstances? Both and neither? Let your imagination fill in the blanks while Donald Fagan’s uniquely evocative singing voice dovetails with the elusive meaning as perfectly as on all the best Steely Dan tracks. Besides, once this song gets its hooks in you you’ll definitely want more than one listen to figure it all out for yourself.

What we’re listening to — Peter Gabriel

As time passes, it becomes clearer that Peter Gabriel was a victim of his own massive success. After being a cult figure as leader of the pre-Phil Collins/pre-Top 40 Genesis, immediately after leaving the group he produced some of the more intriguing and idiosyncratic music of the late 1970s and early 1980s. His uniquely theatrical, art house style seemed to find its climax in the catchy but weird “Shock the Monkey” and its improbably popular video coming right at the dawn of the MTV revolution circa 1982. Surprisingly, though, Gabriel had something even bigger up his sleeves. Just a few years later, in 1986, he unleashed the bona fide mainstream smash hit album So, which featured a plethora of hit singles & videos, including the omnipresent all-time number one most-played MTV video, “Sledgehammer”.  Produced by then-U2 helmsman du jour Daniel Lanois, it’s no hyperbole to say that So became a touchstone for a generation. Its pop culture impact was confirmed when a young John Cusack used the hyper-romantic “In Your Eyes” to woo Ione Skye via boombox in the archetypal 80s teen coming of age story, Say Anything. To the uninitiated it seemed an improbable success. But the cleverness of Gabriel was that he was perfectly attuned to the demands of MTV, having been an often-flamboyant performance art innovator for years with a penchant for the dramatic and offbeat that perfectly suited the new visual taste-setting medium. The fact that he was well ahead of the musical curve in terms of both digital production and the use of “world music” influences — see the incredible vocal solo by Senegalese singer Yousou N’dour on the aforementioned heart-melting “in Your Eyes”, for example — also seemed perfectly aligned to the prevailing zeitgeist in which David Byrne and Paul Simon were incorporating African and South American vibes into their standout 80s work, as well.

But all that radio/video play and overwhelming success led to burnout on Gabriel, as the once outside artist became a mainstream pop superstar. To be honest, I listened to so much Peter Gabriel back in the day that I took about fifteen years off from his music. But I’ve been coming back to it lately and damn if it doesn’t hold up well. And not only in that “old friend you haven’t seen in a long time” way either. No, it’s of its time for sure but definitely among the best of that time. So here are three pre-So tunes — since everyone’s heard every cut off that album so damn much — that I think are worth revisiting.

“Solsbury Hill” from Peter Gabriel I [Car] (1977):

All about Gabriel’s trepidation and hopes after splitting from Genesis, 1977’s “Solsbury Hill” from his debut solo album would have been his one-hit wonder… if he hadn’t gone on to have so many other big hits. The spiritual and optimistic tone of the lyrics highlight PG’s very good, slightly raspy Rock voice and the sterling musicianship in the service of the appealingly folksy-but-not-cloying song construction serve notice that this is a mega-capable songwriter. At the time it could have gone either way. But in retrospect the lovely, ultra-catchy “Solsbury Hill” was not a one-time flash but Gabriel’s opening salvo, laying down a marker that he was an artist to be reckoned with.

“Family Snapshot” from Peter Gabriel III [Melt] (1982):

After 1978’s perhaps overly arty and abstracted Peter Gabriel II [Scratch] failed to build upon the success of “Solsbury”, Gabriel really found something extra for his third studio effort in 1980. Nicknamed “Melt” for the disturbing Hipgnosis cover art, Peter Gabriel III is strong from beginning to end and features standout tracks with troubling psychological overtones like “Intruder”, “I Don’t Remember”, “No Self Control” and “Not One of Us”. Prefiguring Gabriel’s increasing human rights activism, an amazingly beautiful political anthem to slain South African civil rights leader Stephen Biko closes the album. “Games Without Frontiers” was the de facto hit, although in more of a cult fashion than a chart-topper. And perhaps its rather heavy handed metaphor about nations acting as children has not aged as well as the rest despite its undeniable angular catchiness. So for me the exceptionally creepy “Family Snapshot”, which not implausibly imagines a Lee Harvey Oswald-like character motivated by his loveless childhood, is the standout track. Continue reading →

Earworm of the day — Arms Around Your Love by Chris Cornell

This beauty by the great Chris Cornell popped up on my workout mix the other day at the gym and it’s been bouncing around my brain since then like it was brand new again.

Of course it’s not new… but it is still true. “Arms Around Your Love” comes off of the former Soundgarden front man’s 2007 solo effort, Carry On, which also featured his bruising Bond theme for Casino Royale, “You Know My Name”. It falls into that relatively rare subgenere of power ballad: the romantic advice song. It’s bloody good, though, and the hard-earned wisdom shines through every soaring note of Cornell’s preternaturally powerful voice. Play it once and you’re guaranteed to play it again. And also best to heed the man’s advice and tell your lady how much you think of her while you’re the one lucky enough to be holding her. You would’t want some other guy getting that honor, now would you?

Documentary view — The Wrecking Crew (2008)

Chronicling the greatest group of musicians you never heard of, 2008’s The Wrecking Crew is a an affectionate, in-depth portrait of the crack session musicians behind some of the biggest hits in Rock ‘n Roll history. This elite group of LA sidemen was anonymous to the general public but omnipresent during the 1960s and 70s on smash hits by Phil Spector, The Beach Boys, Herb Alpert, Sonny & Cher, The Byrds, Frank Sinatra, Nancy Sinatra, the Mamas and the Poppas, The Righteous Brothers and Elvis Presley, to name just a few of the most prominent stars they recorded with. The Wrecking Crew also served as the real band behind ersatz music industry creations such as The Monkees and The Association, where the members did not actually play their own instruments on the records. Even on the first Byrds album, a real rock band that featured standout musicians like David Crosby and Gene Clark, it’s pretty much just Roger McGuinn and the Crew because producer Terry Melcher didn’t trust the others to play the session at first. As McGuinn slyly comments in the film, both “Mr. Tambourine Man” and “Turn! Turn! Turn!” became Number 1 hits. But with just him and the Wrecking Crew, “Mr. Tambourine Man” and its B-side took about 3 hours. When all the Byrds got their chance to play on “Turn! Turn! Turn!”, that took about 77 takes.

If you’re at all interested in Rock folklore or have affection for the big pop hits of that ultra-well produced era, you’ve really got to check out this documentary. Directed by Danny Tedesco, the son of arguably the greatest and most versatile session guitarist of all time, the late Tommy Tedesco, and featuring interviews with the other greats of that exclusive club, The Wrecking Crew serves as a vital oral history of a pivotal era in American popular music. It also sheds an edifying light on a time where a handful of on call musicians worked 15-hour days and criss-crossed Los Angeles from studio to studio working one high powered session after another. Among the standouts profiled are the great electric bassist, Carol Kaye, who was groundbreaking not only because she was a woman but also because she was good enough to play an estimated 10,000 recording sessions in her career, contributing the bass hooks to pop culture artifacts like “The Beat Goes On”, “Windy” and the theme from “Mission: Impossible”. There’s a nice focus on the strong personalities of the impeccable drummers Hal Blaine and Earl Palmer, both Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Famers who helped form the thunderous backbeat of Spector’s immortal Wall of Sound and did less bombastic work on about a million other records. And then there are the Wrecking Crew alumni who graduated to front of the stage stardom, like Glenn Campbell, Leon Russel and Mack Rebennack aka Dr. John.

wreckingcrew-2

Ultimately a touching tribute and heartfelt salute to a fun-loving dad and his wonderfully individualistic collective of colleagues, Danny Tedesco’s affably personal piece highlights the very funny Tommy Tedesco’s wry humor and guitar genius but never at the expense of his equally talented and interesting peers. It also makes ample use of fantastic period footage and interviews with big time stars like Cher and Brian Wilson who the Wrecking Crew’s superlative talents helped make so successful. What comes across when those those big names reflect on that time is their heartfelt respect and appreciation for the invaluable musicianship and craft of the men and women who worked their sessions, made their hit records and more often than not didn’t even get an album credit. A must for the casual fan or hardcore Rock fanatic, The Wrecking Crew is both a delightful piece of nostalgia forever preserved in cinematic form and an important record of a vital but hidden behind-the-scenes part of the music industry that most of us never really knew existed. I can’t recommend it highly enough. And the best part is that it’s currently a free rental on Netflix so there’s no reason not to check it out. Chances are you’ll be blown away by the incredible number of Rock classics these session aces played on. I sure was.

Earworm of the day — Do I Wait by Ryan Adams

If you’re into sad songs I’ve got your fix right here. From 2011’s Ashes & Fire comes Ryan Adams‘ masterpiece of the morose, “Do I Wait”. Beginning in quiet with Adams’ lone guitar and pleading voice, “Do I Wait?” crescendoes by the end of its 4 minutes into a veritable zenith of sadness thanks to guest keyboardist Benmont Tench of The Heartbreakers and his hauntingly beautiful, slowly building wave of sound. Its heartbroke hooks will sink deep into your earhole and keep pulling at you until you play it again.

Adams has become something of a master of melancholy in recent years after starting out as a country rock sensation, essentially following the path that Jeff Tweedy and Wilco blazed circa their A.M. period. But much like Wilco, Adams stubbornly resisted being boxed in stylistically and so wound up giving voice to his inner sorrow as well as his outer rowdy in the grand tradition of rock and country singer-songwriters since the dawn of those genres. First with 2004’s EP compilation Love is Hell and its remarkably stark and downbeat reworking of Oasis’ “Wonderwall”, and then on Ashes & Fire, Adams proved himself an artist who can really let his guts spill on the floor. “Do I Wait?” proved to be the shimmering standout track from a very good if slightly monochromatic album overflowing with what ifs and recriminations.

What we’re listening to — These Days by The Black Keys

This isn’t the first Black Keys song I’ve posted and it won’t be the last. “These Days” off of 2010’s Brothers is one of their most haunting and downbeat numbers. Maybe that’s why it sticks with you. Triggered by the forlorn lyrics and beautifully morose arrangement, it evokes an instinctual sense of the one-way nature of time and that no, you really can’t go home again.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3umSFd1QYGA

Suffused with longing and nostalgia for bygone days, as well as a rumination on human frailty (“Watch what you say/The Devil is listening/He’s got ears you wouldn’t believe/And brother once you go to him/It’s your soul you can never retrieve”), “These Days” is more like “Wheels On Fire”-era Dylan in its majestic, chill-inducing sense of foreboding than the Keys usual down and dirty rave-ups. But that’s what makes them one of today’s best bands — just when you think you’ve got them figured out Auerbach and Carney hit you in the gut with something so heartfelt and melancholy that it reminds you that there are many facets to the Blues and that the Black Keys, with their sweeping ambition and technical command, are among its greatest modern practitioners.

Earworm of the day — Fireside by Arctic Monkeys

OK, so I’m sort of obsessing through Arctic Monkey’s AM track by track. Got a lot of intense noctural listenings down in Mexico on headphones amidst the susurrations of the palms and the moonlight so the album’s kind of burrowed in there. But suck on “Fireside” for a bit and see if its propulsive groove and longing lyrics don’t work their way into your brain pan too.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jNbLINg3SrQ

What we’re listening to — I’m In Love With My Car by Queen

I’m not that big of a Queen fan — they were played to death on the radio when I was a kid and there’s something about the rococo pretensions of a song like “Bohemian Rhapsody” that makes me want to do violence to the local jukebox. But I do like this song, probably because it isn’t one of their big hits and also it doesn’t really sound that much like Queen for the simple fact that it’s a Roger Taylor composition and not a Freddy Mercury. Also, I’m sensing a theme around here so this one goes out to Graham while we wait for his report from Down Under. And really, all of us around here are in love with our cars whatever the make or model. Aren’t you?

Documentary view — Big Star: Nothing Can Hurt Me

Of all the legendary, cautionary tales of shoulda’ been contenders in Rock history perhaps none went on to have as profound an influence on future artists as Big Star. After all, the losers, beautiful or otherwise, are supposed to remain in the cut-out bins with a small but dedicated fan base of maybe a couple of hundred stalwart fans proudly fanning whatever flickering flame remains. But the funny thing about Big Star was that the couple hundred stalwarts who kept their flame alive after they never caught on the first time around were mostly rock critics and aspiring rock performers. And what happened in the intervening decades is that the music of Big Star, a truly lost band during the 70s, wound up being disseminated through a thousand music reviews and a thousand demo reels going forward to become something like an archetype, a touchstone for the entire Indie and Alternative Rock scene. It somehow became instant street cred to name check Alex Chilton and Chris Bell, to seek out the original vinyl of the band’s seminal albums back in the days where you couldn’t just hit up iTunes and own it in an instant, to lay down a ragged cover of “Back of a Car” during a gig. But beyond the entrancing complexity and slowly dawning greatness of their ostensible pop music, Big Star was also shrouded in mystery, with a lot of vague tales about record deals gone bad, mental illness and creative self-destruction. Which, of course, only added to their mystique. At long last, 2012’s comprehensive documentary, Big Star: Nothing Can Hurt Me, shines a light on the mysteries that beguiled and bedeviled their fans for so many years. It also proves yet again that all that retrospective adulation was well earned, however bittersweet their career trajectory.

Formed in 1971 by Memphis natives Alex Chilton and Chris Bell, the original lineup also consisted of drummer Jody Stephens (the only surviving founding member) and bassist Andy Hummel. Chilton was already well established, having been a teen sensation as the blue-eyed soul frontman for The Box Tops, a well-produced outfit that clocked several hits including 1967’s classic Billboard #1, “The Letter” (later covered to even more dramatic effect by Joe Cocker). Chris Bell was a local kid dreaming of the Beatles and pop success, as well as an outlet for all the achingly beautiful and earnest compositions swimming around in his head. The result of their intersection was Big Star and their debut album, #1 Record, an unusally accomplished masterpiece with roots in the singer-songwriter ethos of the 60s but leavened with the angular hooks of British invasion power pop and more than a pinch of the Velvet Underground’s sonic subversiveness. Cuts such as “In The Street” (later famously covered by Cheap Trick as the title song for That 70s Show), “Thirteen” and “When my Baby’s Beside Me” spin gold from conventional romantic youth rebellion through the freshness of their composition and the unabashed belief in the power of the 3-minute pop single. As drummer Stephens wryly observes in the documentary, it could be said that by choosing such audaciously cocky names for their band and debut album they were tempting the Rock gods, as well as showing confidence (or hope) in their endeavor. But knowing Chilton’s later oeuvre, the implicit irony of such grandiosity seems entirely intentional.

Despite being universally praised by rock critics and industry mags, 1972’s #1 Record went nowhere fast due to the vagaries of bad timing and worse distribution. Continue reading →