GIVE TIL IT HURTS!

This. This right here

In his weekly Sunday Music post, Aesop embeds the Jason Aldean and Austin Moody protest songs I’ve covered here, before going on to tell it like it truly is.

Anybody bitch-slapping the Leftards, and getting rich doing it, deserves a hearty “Hell, yeah!” Libtards hate this, because anytime they’re getting stuck by any genre of music, it underlines that their whacktard kneejerk orthodoxy has become The Man.

That’s about the size of it, yeah. I went a little out of my way in the posts here to indicate my dislike for contemporary country music, much though I do love the great old trad stuff from 50s legends like Faron Young, Ray Price, Jimmie Rodgers, et al. No matter; as Aesop says, Aldean, Moody, any and every other artist who’s willing to stand athwart “liberalism” and yell STOP! is certainly a-okay by me, regardless of what genre-furrow they might be plowing.

Update! Completely unrelated, except insofar as it was gleaned from another regularly-scheduled Sunday music post. But oh my goodness GRACIOUS, this is some wild, wild stuff right here.

The backstory, courtesy of the esteemed and estimable Bayou Peter:

Richard Cheese and his band, “Lounge Against The Machine”, have been performing rock and pop hits in the style of big-band “swing” for more than two decades. The person behind the persona, if I can put it like that, is Mark Jonathan Davis, and his backing band includes Bobby Ricotta, Frank Feta and Billy Bleu. All the stage names, of course, are wordplays on the subject of cheese.

I have to admire their creativity in transforming well-known tunes and songs into a whole new genre of music. I’ve selected just four this morning, to introduce you to their work, but there are dozens more.

Crazy, man, crazy, as the kids used to say. I confess I didn’t listen to the other three over at Pete’s place because I simply can’t abide the original songs, but I’m sure Cheese improved on ‘em a great deal.

Five German dances

One of my personal-fave Schubert compositions is his “Five German dances in C Major, D90”—a lilting confection showcasing all the lovely, melodic tunefulness for which the incomparable Franz Schubert is so justly renowned. But that isn’t the main reason I’m embedding this next vid of the piece; no, that would be for the delightful way the conductor, Matthias Foremny, umm, conducts himself in front of the orchestra.

Folks, that there is the living embodiment of what we mean by the phrase “a man who truly enjoys his work.” His illimitable passion; his zest; his pure heart-swelling glee comes through in every goofy facial expression, every broad smile. The way he stands nearly stock-still for extended periods, then suddenly starts leaping about, gesticulating frantically, as if someone had slipped a live scorpion down the front of his trousers, waving and grimacing, is just too damned funny. You gotta love it…which, I most certainly do. Maestro Foremni, I am definitely a fan, sir.

Back to the boards

KEYboards, that is, courtesy of my close friend Jeremy, who gifted me with an old electronic keyboard today (as in piano, not compooter) and got it all hooked up and working through Logic Pro on Ye Aulde iMac.

I do declare, but this thing is truly wondrous. Thanks to the Logic software, there is literally no sound this marvel can’t convincingly reproduce, from barroom-beater upright to Steinway grand to cheeseball Wurlitzer electric pianny to the venerable and beloved Hammond B3/Leslie cab combo. And that’s before you even get around to…well, essentially every musical instrument there is, as well as human voices, to include a whole slew of odds and sods even I’ve never heard of before. Which, trust me, is saying something.

The options are so numerous and varied that, as I told Jerm, one could easily spend an entire hoomon lifetime piddling around with them and only barely manage to scratch the surface. So if the blogging seems to suffer over the next, oh, several years, you’ll know why.

Oh, and since somebody mentioned those cheesy, greasy old Wurlitzers, here’s what has to be the world’s most well-known example of the correct deployment of one.

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Both kinds, country AND western

In the course of a discussion on country music both trad and *ugh* contemporary over at Sido’s place, I was moved to respond to Outlaws Forever’s comment thusly:

SidoCountryComments

This in turn got me headed over to YewToob to reacquaint myself with a few Ray Price songs, when up popped a BPs cover of his classic “Crazy Arms” amongst the rest of the flawless tunage.

Pretty decent homage if you ask me, which of course nobody did.

Update! Moar country-music rebellion.

Another Anti-Woke Country Anthem Is Shooting Up The Charts
As Jason Aldean’s “Try That In A Small Town” continues to top country music charts in the face of backlash from left-wing entities, another anti-woke country anthem is also enjoying its own surge to the top.

“I’m Just Sayin’” by Nashville-based artist Austin Moody — a song that critiques radical positions on crime, gender ideology and college indoctrination — currently holds the number seven slot on iTunes’ top 40 country chart. “I’m just sayin’, have we all lost our minds?” reads the chorus of the song meant to reflect what many think in private, but feel unable to say in the face of pressure from powerful groups and institutions.

“I am absolutely floored by the response I’ve gotten on the song,” Moody told Breitbart News. “It just proves to me there’s still a strong moral compass in this country, and it means that honesty and freedom cannot be independent. You have to be honest even if it costs you.”

In a previous interview, Moody told Breitbart that he felt compelled to write the song due to the creeping influence of woke ideology in popular country music circles. Those sentiments were immediately validated just days after the interview, as Country Music TV (CMT) opted to remove Jason Aldean’s viral “Try That In A Small Town” music video from its lineup.

“Over the past couple years, I’ve been convicted. Seeing a lot of things happening in this country that I don’t agree with. You sit back and think, ‘what can I do about this?’” Moody said. “All I could hope for is when people hear ‘I’m Just Sayin,’’ they just know it was written to say we’ve had enough. We live in a society bent on the destruction of the individual. If you don’t fall in line you’ll be cancelled or destroyed.”

The Tennessee native went on to add that the birth of his daughter was another massive inspiration to write the song. “In today’s world, what we’re dealing with, it’s not just about politics. It’s about a darkness that’s now coming for our children. I’ve got a 15-month-old daughter. I don’t want her growing up in a liberal-run America,” he said.

Well said, sir. May I say, you have the right idea: jumping on these Woke fucksticks before they can infiltrate the House of Country Music like the termites they are and bring it crashing down on all your heads is definitely the way to go. The rest of the country failed to do so, and just look where THAT got us.

Still no big fan of contemporary country music, and I certainly mean no insult to Jason Aldean, but I gotta say I like Moody’s song better than I do Aldean’s.

I sincerely wish both Jason Aldean and Austin Moody nothing but the best. May you both enjoy all the success in the world, fellas. For courageously taking your stand and standing your ground in such parlous, trying times, you richly deserve it.

Inside-baseball addendum: Lest anyone think this is a hurry-up job by Moody hoping to jump on a bandwagon which Aldean had already gotten rolling, y’all should know that that is NOT the way things work in the music biz. Or at least, not that quickly, anyhow. The song being released just recently means that Moody has almost certainly been working on it for at least a year, if not longer.

He would have to have been, what with composing and editing, bringing it to the band for rehearsals, then booking studio time for tracking and overdubs, mixing, and final mastering all needing to take place before the first CD is even pressed and shipped—a very time-intensive process in and of its own self. Cover art; decisions on the J-card layout, track-listing order, and credits; running it all by the label people for their approval—nosirreebob, don’t think for a second that all this gets done in the blink of an eye.

Getting your music out there to the public, whatever genre you may be working in, is in fact a long, laborious, painstaking process, involving a whole lot of gears that have to mesh before anything happens, IF it happens. There’s a blue million ways it can all fall apart and come to naught, too.

On the upside, though, the day when you finally do get your hands on that first CD and rush down to your favorite watering hole to show off the long-awaited fruits of your labor to all your friends is a frabjous one indeed. All the horizonless hours of frustration, weariness, and self-doubt wash right away like dirt down a shower drain; you open that first box of what the record-label maggots, in their deadened-soul unmindfulness, refer to as “product” with your hands literally a-tremble and the hair on the back of your neck standing straight up, no fooling. There’s no feeling like it in all the world, there truly isn’t.

Updated update! Just checked out the above-referenced Breitbart piece, when what to my wondering eyes should appear but this:

“I’m going to use what God gave me to try to say the right thing. So far, the response has been positive,” Moody says. He also understands what a blessing (it is) to have his wife — Jennifer Wayne, granddaughter of the late film icon John Wayne — as an occasional writing partner.

Because of COURSE she’s the Duke’s granddaughter. A one hundred percent all-American family unit for sure and certain. Bold mine, natch.

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Try that in a small town

A tip of the CF Stetson (not that I actually HAVE one, unnerstand) to country crooner Jason Aldean, for telling it like it is.

Jason Aldean’s Rocking Country Song ‘Try That in a Small Town’ Makes Liberal Heads Explode, He Claps Back
Country music star Jason Aldean dropped a song in May, but it seems like a memo went out among the liberal press because they’re suddenly freaking out that it slams woke blue violent cities and the 2020 George Floyd riots while daring to honor gun ownership and small-town values. Ooh, can’t do that.

Here are the lyrics for the first two verses (all caps are his from his YouTube posting. Read the rest there):

SUCKER PUNCH SOMEBODY ON A SIDEWALK
CAR JACK AN OLD LADY AT A RED LIGHT
PULL A GUN ON THE OWNER OF A LIQUOR STORE
YA THINK IT’S COOL WELL ACT A FOOL IF YA LIKE
CUSS OUT A COP SPIT IN HIS FACE
STOMP ON THE FLAG AND LIGHT IT UP
YEAH YA THINK YOU’RE TOUGH

WELL TRY THAT IN A SMALL TOWN
SEE HOW FAR YA MAKE IT DOWN THE ROAD
‘ROUND HERE WE TAKE CARE OF OUR OWN
YOU CROSS THAT LINE IT WON’T TAKE LONG
FOR YOU TO FIND OUT
I RECOMMEND YOU DON’T
TRY THAT IN A SMALL TOWN

Predictably, the left has gone nuts, accusing Aldean of racism and any other of the usual buzzwords they can come up with…Aldean issued a lengthy response to critics Tuesday afternoon:

In the past 24 hours I have been accused of releasing a pro-lynching song (a song that has been out since May) and was subject to the comparison that I (direct quote) was not too pleased with the nationwide BLM protests. These references are not only meritless, but dangerous. There is not a single lyric in the song that references race or points to it- and there isn’t a single video clip that isn’t real news footage -and while I can try and respect others to have their own interpretation of a song with music- this one goes too far.

As so many pointed out, I was present at Route 91-where so many lost their lives- and our community recently suffered another heartbreaking tragedy. NO ONE, including me, wants to continue to see senseless headlines or families ripped apart.

Try That In A Small Town, for me, refers to the feeling of a community that I had growing up, where we took care of our neighbors, regardless of differences of background or belief. Because they were our neighbors, and that was above any differences. My political views have never been something I’ve hidden from, and I know that a lot of us in this Country don’t agree on how we get back to a sense of normalcy where we go at least a day without a headline that keeps us up at night. But the desire for it to- that’s what this song is about.

These days, the Left considers virtually everything they don’t like to be racist or related to White Supremacy. In my view, this rocking song is pointing out that the lawlessness happening in our big cities is simply unacceptable and un-American, and owning a firearm is a First Amendment right. And guess what, folks—he’s allowed to like small-town living; it isn’t a crime.

Well, not yet, anyway. There’s a vid of Aldean’s instant classic at the link if you’re so inclined. Not being a fan of contemporary rock-flavored country music myself it really isn’t my cup of tea, but as always YMMV. What the hell, anything that makes Sniveling Shitlibs weep and wail so lugubriously is a-okay with moi.

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How the sausage is made

I’ve never been in the habit of watching videos linked or embedded by other bloggers; don’t know why that would be, I’m by no means opposed to it, and I certainly hope CF readers will watch the ones I embed. Hypocritical of me, perhaps, but hey, it is what it is. Don’t hate me ‘cause I’m beautiful, to swipe one of my favorite Little Richard quotes.

That said, though, for some odd reason I felt compelled to watch one MisHum included with last night’s ONT, the first half of it anyway. And in so doing, I learned something I didn’t know before, namely the backstory of how a great ‘70s classic-rock tune came to be.

“No Sugar Tonight/New Mother Nature” is a medley by the Canadian rock band The Guess Who. It was released on their 1970 album American Woman, and was released on the B-side of the “American Woman” single without the “New Mother Nature” section. The single was officially released as “American Woman/No Sugar Tonight” and peaked at #1 on the RPM magazine charts and #1 on the Billboard Hot 100, for three weeks on both charts. In Cash Box, which at the time ranked sides of singles independently, “No Sugar Tonight” reached #39.

According to Randy Bachman, the inspiration for the song arose after an incident when he was visiting California. He was walking down the street with a stack of records under his arm, when he saw three “tough-looking biker guys” approaching. He felt threatened and was looking for a way to cross the street onto the other sidewalk when a little car pulled up to the men. A woman about 5 feet tall got out of the car, shouting at one of them, asking where he’d been all day, that he had left her alone with the kids, didn’t take out the trash, and was down here watching the girls. The man was suddenly alone when his buddies walked away. Chastened, he got in the car as the woman told him before pulling away: “And one more thing, you ain’t getting no sugar tonight”. The words stuck in Bachman’s memory.

Bachman then wrote a short song in the key of F♯ called “No Sugar Tonight”. When he presented the song to Burton Cummings and RCA, he was told that the song was too short. Bachman and Cummings expanded the song by adding to it a song Cummings had written that was also in the key of F♯, “New Mother Nature”.

The narrator of the vid over at the Ace place goes on to relate the tale of how the A-side of which “No Sugar” was the B, “American Woman,” was put together as well, and it’s a doozy in its own right.

The music and lyrics of the song were improvised on stage during a concert in Southern Ontario (the guitarist, Randy Bachman, recalled it being at a concert in Kitchener, although Burton Cummings, the lead singer, said it was at the Broom and Stone, a curling rink in Scarborough). Bachman was playing notes while tuning his guitar after replacing a broken string, and he realized he was playing a new riff that he wanted to remember. He continued playing it and the other band members returned to the stage and joined in, creating a jam session in which Cummings improvised the lyrics. They noticed a kid with a cassette recorder making a bootleg recording and asked him for the tape. They listened to the tape and noted down the words that Cummings had extemporized, and which he later revised.

The song’s lyrics have been the matter of debate, often interpreted as an attack on U.S. politics (especially the draft). Cummings, who composed the lyrics, said in 2013 that they had nothing to do with politics. “What was on my mind was that girls in the States seemed to get older quicker than our girls and that made them, well, dangerous. When I said ‘American woman, stay away from me,’ I really meant ‘Canadian woman, I prefer you.’ It was all a happy accident.”

Heh. Upon the single’s release “American Woman” quickly raced to number one on the Billboard chart, moving on from there to worldwide commercial success and writing the Guess Who into the hitmaker-history book forever.

The music biz is just brim-full of fascinating, fun stories like those; that’s among many other factors that attracted me so intensely from a very early age, inspiring me to devote my entire life to chasing that most beautiful of dreams. Plenty of barbed hooks to be found in the briny deeps of the musician’s world, I assure you, and once they’re set in ya there just ain’t no wriggling off of ‘em. As I recently said in a comments-section response to a Quora query concerning the cons of playing the guitar:

The biggest “con” of all: it’s TOTALLY addictive. Back when I was taking students, if it was a newbie first thing I’d tell them was, “sell the guitar now and walk away. Otherwise, it’ll get in your blood and you’ll never have a pot to piss in for the rest of your life.” None of them took my sage advice, go figure.

With the guys who already knew how to play and just wanted me to teach them my own particular style, I didn’t bother saying anything. I knew they were lost already, and would never, ever recover. 😉

S’truth, and I know whereof I speak on this one. Learning to play; training yourself up to proficiency; screwing up the nerve to climb up onto a stage and play before an audience for the very first time; getting used to committing that unnatural act until you’ve reached the point where the stage is the one and only place in all the world where you feel truly alive, truly yourself—tougher to kick than heroin, that is, but a WAY better, more enjoyable high. Plus, there’s not all that puking right after you geeze up to contend with, either.

Yep, it’s a sickness, that’s what it is.

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It all sounds the same

Thought I’d throw out some more fallout from that rabbit-hole deep dive of mine yesterday, just to bring my point about the great stylistic diversity of said genre fully and firmly home via two of my perennial faves from way back then. Take it away, fellas.

Annnnd the counterpoint.

All alike, sure. About like ripe, juicy pears and scorpions are.

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Punk AF

So I just spent the last two-plus hours diving deep into yet another musical rabbit hole, this time a first-wave punk rock one. Naturally, inevitably, and as per usual, I enjoyed it enough that I decided it might be worth sharing with you fine folks, via a song apiece from Ulster’s top two local-hero bands: Stiff Little Fingers and the Undertones, two bands that sound nothing whatsoever alike and who, quite famously, did NOT get along At. All.

Next up, my own personal SLF fave.

And now, just to blow right out of the water as self-evidently bogus the most common complaint from the early naysayers of the Punk Rock Revolution, that “all that crap sounds the same”: lads and lassies, I give you The Undertones.

Ahh, my youth; where DID it go, pray tell, and why did it have to be in such an all-fired hurry about leaving?

As even a punk-rock neophyte can readily discern, though these two bands shared not just a common home nation, province, and city (Belfast), but a common freakin’ section of said city, the hard-hitting, dark, and rough-edged sound of Stiff Little Fingers contrasts quite sharply with the Undertones’ brighter, more tuneful power-pop, don’tchathink?

Of course, one of the primary appeals that 70s punk had for devotees of the genre was its tremendous diversity of style, approach, attitude, and sound. They all did have certain things in common to be sure, but still, nobody with an ear and an open mind could possibly have found it the least bit difficult to distinguish betwixt, say, the Sex Pistols, the Ramones, the Jam, the Buzzcocks, Patty Smith, and Television.

Now, about that little conflict I mentioned before.

SLF’s decision to write songs about the experiences of young people growing up in The Troubles proved controversial. Some Northern Ireland punk bands felt songs about the Troubles were exploiting the sectarian conflict. There was also criticism and suspicion over the involvement and influence the management team, especially Gordon Ogilivie, was having on the band. The political differences were reinforced by musical differences as SLF’s rockier punk sound contrasted with the more melodic pop punk of The Undertones and Rudi. Some of the criticism was simply down to band rivalries and jealousy.

There were a number of well-publicised arguments; The Undertones accused Stiff Little Fingers of sensationalising the Northern Ireland conflict, while they retorted that The Undertones ignored it. Michael Bradley, The Undertones bassist, tells of a confrontation in 1979 between The Undertones’ John O’Neill and SLF’s Jake Burns: “He launched into Jake, not physically but verbally. Slagging his records, slagging the journalist writing the songs and slagging the band.” Michael Bradley now describes ‘Suspect Device’ as “a great record, although at the time we weren’t impressed, probably because they’d made a record before us.”

Terri Hooley, Good Vibrations records, also says: “SLF were really starting to make waves beyond Northern Ireland, and I always see them as the ones that got away. I know I have always said I never rated them, but that was probably jealousy on my part. I actually think they are a great band and deserve their success.”

I’d have to say that Bradley and Hooley, by attributing their animosity to simple jealousy, probably had the right of it—eventually, anyway.

One for the Wirecutter

That would be OG blogger Ken Lane, who posted up a link to one of the better Nashville songwriters of this or any other era, the peerless Chris Stapleton.

A damned fine singer too, is our Mr Stapleton. Funny thing about him, he’s a dedicated player of a tragically overlooked guitar, the Fender Jazzmaster. As it happens, my first gee-tar was a 64 Jazzmaster, an extremely high-value axe nowadays (backstory here). Stapleton, of course, was also a founding member of contemporary-bluegrass titans The Steeldrivers, leading us into a bonus CT rip.

Man, if those flawless vocal harmonies don’t raise the chilblains on the back of your neck, I just don’t know how I can possibly be of any help to ya. More on CT’s, shall we say, eccentric gear preferences:

Chris Stapleton’s primary electric guitar for his solo career has been the Fender Jazzmaster. Unlike many country players, who are sworn to the twang and aggression of the Fender Telecaster, Chris has a real soft spot for this Fender timeless classic, telling Rolling Stone that he bought his first one in the mid-2000s. It was a 1962 Jazzmaster reissue in, of all colors, ocean turquoise, far from the elegant sunbursts and denim of most country guitarists. On the color, Stapleton said “It wasn’t a color I looked at and was going, “Oh man, I need that surf guitar!” But I played it and, like with a car, you can meld with things: This is my guitar. That’s how that happened. There is great comfort in knowing what your rig is and then you don’t have to fool with it anymore.”

Fender launched the Jazzmaster in 1958, intending it to be an upmarket version of the Stratocaster, not unlike Gibson’s delineation of their Custom and Standard ranges around the same time. The Jazzmaster, as its name suggests, was marketed at jazz guitarists of the era. However, it was quickly adopted by surf rock guitar players in the early 1960s who highly valued its reduced sustain and unique resonance when compared to other Fender models.

The Jazzmaster sets itself apart from other Fender guitars in several ways. One is its distinctively large body, far bigger and heavier than those of the Stratocaster, Telecaster, or even the similar silhouette of the Jaguar. The Jazzmaster also boasts large, white “soapbar” pickups that bear a striking resemblance to the Gibson P90. This similarity is purely cosmetic, however, with magnetic pole pieces on the Fender soapbar pickup as opposed to the P90’s magnets beneath the coil. The Jazzmaster coil is wound flat and wide, more so than that of the P90, and far more than any other Fender pickup.

Stapleton also developed a close working relationship with Fender, culminating in the Chris Stapleton Signature Model Princeton (!!) amp.

He actually bought his first 1962 Princeton in Ohio during a writing session with Peter Frampton. Of the original Princeton, he said “I use that amp still. That amp was a studio amp of mine for many years before I got hold of another one because I thought I should probably buy another one”.

The 1962 Princeton was initially marketed as a student amplifier, as its diminutive size and lower output would indicate. However, plenty of gigging musicians worked out that the Princeton’s smaller frame meant it could attain saturation and overdrive at lower volumes than many of its competitors. Rock, blues, and country players were particularly enamored of its rich, saturated drive tone as well as the sparkling cleans for which Fender amps are famous.

Chris Stapleton’s signature Princeton was built to the man’s own specifications. The story of this amp’s birth seems deceptively simple. Stapleton told Billboard that “this was borne out of me calling Fender up [and asking them] to build this amp for me…I wanted a new amp that looked like the old amp and worked like the old amp, and that didn’t exist. So we called Fender, and very quickly the conversation escalated to doing something like this”.

The hand-wired Chris Stapleton signature amp is a twelve-watt combo with attractively simple controls, featuring Fender Vintage Blue tone caps, Schumacher transformers, and an output tube-biased tremolo circuit. Its cabinet is made from solid pine, covered with textured brown vinyl. Like the bourbon-barrel Blues Junior, its handle is brown leather, and its dark brown faceplate matches the darker brown control knobs. Two 12AX7 preamp tubes, two 6V6 power tubes, and a single 5Y3 rectifier tube power its Eminence 12” Special Design CS speaker. It also has a built-in tremolo effect.

Never have played a brown Princeton—in fact, I don’t know that I’ve ever even seen one before. I DO know the later (mid-late 60s, pre CBS) blackface Princetons are sweet-sounding little amps, although a bit on the, umm, quiet side to suit my taste.

A becoming humility

Quora provides a sterling example of one of Man’s finer qualities.

Rik Elswit
Musician for 60 years. Professional musician for 55

What are some rock songs that were just filler, but became huge hits?
My band went into the studio to make our fourth album after having had to declare bankruptcy in order to get out of a contract with CBS records where we were getting no support. Nobody would even take our phone calls.

So we signed with Capitol, and went to work at Pacific Recorders. This is where we found out that our manager/producer was of little use in the studio without having the CBS engineers holding his hand for him. We released three singles off it that he was sure would be hits, and they all stiffed. Finally, in frustration, the brass at Capitol actually ordered him to release our cover of Sam Cooke’s “Only 16”, which we’d recorded simply as fill to flesh out the album.

This was a tune that we had begun playing at gigs just because we liked to play it. Our lead singer really got it, and it was just like home. The sort of thing we could do in our sleep. We produced and arranged it ourselves, and it only took a couple hours, total, to get it in the can. We were even breaking up a pound of monstrously good smoke in the drum booth while we were doing the sweetening. I had to hand the scales off to the drummer when they called me out to lay in the guitar solo and fills.

It went gold. We had worked our own way out of bankruptcy on our own, and we made Sam Cooke’s widow very happy.

FOURTH album? Jumping from a contract with CBS over to Capitol, seemingly at will? A gold record the result of said major-label leap? One can only assume that this Rik Elswit fellow must be, or at least once was, a real Somebody in the music biz.

As it turns out, we quickly learn from the comments that one would not be entirely incorrect in one’s assumption.

Neil Matthews
I’d like to give Rik’s answers more upvotes, it’s a glimpse of what Quora could be; informative answers to genuine questions by someone who knows what they are talking about.

Huw Pritchard
No small amount of humility either – I’ll be honest, I ended up googling Rik because I didn’t know his name but figured out it might be an interesting search.

If I was in his shoes I’d start everything I wrote with “I was in Dr Hook for 13 years”, even if it wasn’t relevant to the answer.

Well, I will be dipped in shit, how ’bout that? For those of you out there who are a hell of a lot younger than me, here’s Rik Elswit’s band’s biggest hit—in days of old, when knights were bold, and condoms not invented.

And what the hell, since Rik mentioned pounds of weed, and it popped up after Dr Hook in my YewToob list, PLUS it’s still one of the songs that make me bounce around in my seat the hardest, let’s do this thing.

Man, you might not agree, but in my book that’s about as good as the rock GETS, right there.

Update! Okay, since I’m on something of a roll here and all. Rik mentioned major-label tapeworms refusing to even take the band’s calls back in their darkest days just before the dawn, so what do you suppose that reminded me of? Why, this, of course.

Just occurred to me that, if someone stumbled in here who didn’t know me personally and got a load of these, shall we say, wildly electic musical selections I’m always putting up here, then found out I mostly listened to classical music radio all day long, they’d probably think I was schizophrenic or something.

Says it all update! While we’re on the topic of rock and roll, I hijacked this from shit the great Ken Lane posted on Fakebook.

AC DC3BlocksAway

Really, what more can one say but: Heh.

Strung up, strung out

Yet another excellent Quora digest edition drops into my email inbox.

Why does Billy Gibbons use 7-43 guitar strings? It seems odd.

Billy uses 7–38.

Billy used to use 11s & 12s because he thought that’s what all the blues guys did: Big string = Big sound

He was in the green room of a gig with B.B. King and BB wanted to see Billy’s axe. BB was noodling with Billy’s guitar and asked Billy why he was running such heavy strings? Billy said, “I thought that’s how all you blues guys got your tone.” BB said, “Why do you want to work so hard?” I think Billy dropped down to 9s almost immediately and eventually worked his way down to 7s and 8s, which is what a lot of the classic music of the 50s, 60s, and 70s was done with.

7’s will teach you about control PDQ because they respond so easily. If you want to sound super-tight on 9s or 10s go play on 7s and 8s for while.

.007s? Dang, I don’t think I ever have played with strings that light; in fact, I don’t recall being aware that they even made ‘em that light. My uncle started me out on .008s, a jazz set of his preferred Black Diamonds with the wrapped G (as a snot-nosed punk kid already gravitating heavily towards rock and roll, I didn’t like that worth a damn, believe me; wrapped third strings on electric guitars is definitely a jazzbo thing). Then, once I’d mastered the essential chords, scales, and runs, followed by guitar adaptions of a few old songs, most of which Murray had transposed and committed to staff paper himself (Sweet Georgia Brown*, I remember ye fondly, old girl!), I went out on my own hook from there.

POINTLESS CF DIGRESSION™: I still have one of those jumbo-sized plastic totes crammed full of Murray’s old sheet-music transcriptions in climate-controlled storage over in my friend Wendy’s living room, safely tucked away between her two (2) pianos. It’s all promised to my friend Jeremy, a great player in his own right, who damned near collapsed in stunned but delighted disbelief when I first showed him that plastic-tub treasure trove and spent an evening pawing through it with him. Jeremy took guitar lessons from me back when I was still willing to take on students; he’s probably the best pure musician I’ve ever known, and I’m happy indeed to turn over all that 24-karat musical history to him, knowing as I do how much he’ll love it, and what good care he’ll take of it.

Anyhoo, when I began playing professionally, I had to change strings before every show, either in the green room or at the hotel. I could count on breaking at least one any night I got lazy and didn’t—usually the D or B, don’t know why that would have been. And believe me, I tried like hell to figure it out. It was annoying as hell, but then again all the onstage angst and aggro was easily avoided just by the simple expedient of changing the blasted things.

Uncle Murray, by contrast, only replaced his strings once in a blue moon; he’d boil ‘em when they started to feel limp and flaccid, then put ‘em back on for another year’s worth of abuse. Murray and I never discussed the way I went through strings; I figure he would have been genuinely horrified at the needless waste, the grotesque profligacy of any nephew of his buying strings not by the pack, but by the case. Why, the very idea! Surely he’d taught me better than THAT!

I DO know that Stevie Ray Vaughn famously used strings so painfully heavy they more closely resembled low-register piano strings, or perhaps telephone-pole guy wires. Don’t know how in the world he managed to play the way he did—bending notes with no apparent effort, fingers zooming wildly all over the fretboard like honeybees in a field of wildflowers—on strings that big, night after night after night, for years. But then, that’s why he’s Stevie Ray Vaughan, and I, y’know…ain’t.

My own calluses, laboriously created by set after set of comparatively wimpy D’Addario Jazz/Rock .011 to .049s, are still there, and I haven’t picked up a guitar since 2017. Hell, I can still feel the lip-callus you get from trumpet-playing when I run my tongue across my upper lip; apparently, they never do go away completely. The calluses on Stevie Ray’s left-hand fingertips, then, must have been something to see indeed. By the time he died, his fingertips must have been rutted as deeply as a New Mexico desert valley after a sudden monsoon.

.007 to .038 gauge strings, Gibbons? Ya fuckin’ pussy.

Update! Having mentioned Jeremy up there, please enjoy one of my all-time favorite songs from his surf band nonpareil, the Aqualads.

Great band, great tune. Written by the late, lamented Bob Nelson, may he forever rest in peace.

* I keep thinking of stuff I want to add to this post, so I put in a link to Django Reinhardt and Stephan Grappelli’s version of SGB, just because they were two of Murray’s favorites.

No-so-famous last words

Do we get some sort of weird premonition, some uncanny sense of impending doom, when our death approaches? Sometimes, yeah.

What were Jimi Hendrix last words?
Jimi Hendrix, one of the most influential guitarists of the 1960s, died at Samarkand Hotel in London on September 18. 1970. He was 27 years old.

Cause of death: Asphyxia due to aspiration to vomit, contributed to by barbiturate intoxication.

His last words were “I need help bad, man”.

Aside from that, a poem he wrote was found at his deathbed. This was the last sentence of the poem:

HendrixFinalWords

Thank you.

Kinda creepy, no? Also beautifully poetic, and all too true. But still. Calls for another Hendrix embed, I do believe.

Man, dig that crazy wad o’ homemade pop filter on his mic! As the video shows, it was awfully windy in Howaya that afternoon, which explains it.

Also, note ye well at :29 in the vid, how deftly Jimi steps off the Vox 846 wah pedal and onto the trusty ol’ Fuzz Face, to call forth the legendary Hendrix crunchiness from that pretty white Strat. Then, at around :36 seconds in, watch in humbled awe as he swats the pickup selector switch to fastly transition from the fat, throaty sound of the neck-pickup position to the twangy squall of the wrong-way-tilted (since he was playing a right-handed axe upside down, see) bridge p/u, swapping one trademark Hendrix sound™ for the other in a lightning flash of truly inspired playing.

It’s Billy Cox and Mitch Mitchell for backup, alas, nary a Buddy Miles or Noel Redding in sight. But DAMN, that stage-full of Marshall DSL Pro full-stacks makes me drool.

Chip off the old block

As I’m sure you all know, Foo Fighters drummer Taylor Hawkins passed last year, probably the victim of an OD, after years of struggling with heroin addiction. So marvel as his 16 year old son (!) shows off badass, hard-hitting chops that almost have to be coded in his family’s DNA.

Yep, a hard-hitter for sure, just like the old man. Not my favorite Foo Fighters tune, unfortunately; myself, I wish they’d done “Monkeywrench,” but what the hey. As WeirdDave says:

Not only does he absolutely nail it, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a drummer play with such emotion. His anger, pain, rage and yes, love could be bagged and sold. The subtle support he’s getting from the rest of the band, “We got you buddy. You’re with family”, take the performance to another level. I’m not even a Foo Fighters fan, but this one put tears in my eyes.

I won’t go quite as far as all that, but it’s certainly something to see nonetheless.

Update! Just now thought to check it, and lo and behold, the BPs video link I left for Aesop in the comments was bad. Fixed now, sorry ‘bout that.

3

Glen Campbell, overrated?

Not hardly, chump. UNDERrated, if anything.

Was Glen Campbell a highly overrated guitar player? Isn’t it true that country music is the least complex and simplest to play? The man certainly didn’t have the technical skill to play metal or anything more difficult. Do you agree?
When Eddie Van Halen asks for guitar lessons (via comments made directly by Alice Cooper), it’s a pretty good bet you have something significant to offer. Alice said that Eddie Van Halen did exactly that regarding Glen Campbell.

Glen Campbell was beyond impressive and nary a whiff of distortion to hide behind.

Also, you don’t play with the Wrecking Crew if you are overrated. Just sayin’.

True, dat. But who is/was this Wrecking Crew of whom he speaks, you ask? Oh, just this.

The Wrecking Crew were a group of all-purpose, highly revered studio musicians who appeared on thousands of popular records – including massive hits such as “Mr. Tambourine Man” by The Byrds and “California Dreamin’” by The Mamas And The Papas. The instrumental work by this group of session men (and one woman) defined the sound of popular music on radio during the 60s and early 70s, meaning The Wrecking Crew can reasonably lay claim to being the most-recorded band in history.

The exact number of musicians in the loose collective of Los Angeles session musicians known as The Wrecking Crew is not known, partly because of the informal nature of the hiring and also because much of their work went uncredited. Three of their key members were the magnificent session drummer Hal Blaine, bassist and guitarist Carol Kaye (one of the few female session players in that era), and guitarist Tommy Tedesco.

Among the leading musicians who were members at various times were: Earl Palmer, Barney Kessel, Plas Johnson, Al Casey, Glen Campbell, James Burton, Leon Russell, Larry Knechtel, Jack Nitzsche, Mike Melvoin, Don Randi, Al DeLory, Billy Strange, Howard Roberts, Jerry Cole, Louie Shelton, Mike Deasy, Bill Pitman, Lyle Ritz, Chuck Berghofer, Joe Osborn, Ray Pohlman, Jim Gordon, Chuck Findley, Ollie Mitchell, Lew McCreary, Jay Migliori, Jim Horn, Steve Douglas, Allan Beutler, Roy Caton, and Jackie Kelso.

The great James Burton, just to home in one of those many standout names, was Elvis Presley’s lead guitarist for many years, and a total badass he was, too.

Burton plays better and with more precision behind his damned head than most of us do with the guitar in its usual position. Back before joining up with Elvis in the waning days of the King’s glory, of course, Burton also played on all those great old Ricky Nelson hits way back when, among an incredible roster of others. Happily, the Master of the Telecaster is still with us, alive and kicking at 83 years young.

James Edward Burton (born August 21, 1939, in Dubberly, Louisiana) is an American guitarist. A member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame since 2001 (his induction speech was given by longtime fan Keith Richards), Burton has also been recognized by the Rockabilly Hall of Fame and the Musicians Hall of Fame and Museum. Critic Mark Deming writes that “Burton has a well-deserved reputation as one of the finest guitar pickers in either country or rock … Burton is one of the best guitar players to ever touch a fretboard.” He is ranked number 19 in Rolling Stone list of 100 Greatest Guitarists.

Since the 1950s, Burton has recorded and performed with an array of singers, including Bob Luman, Dale Hawkins, Ricky Nelson, Elvis Presley (and was leader of Presley’s TCB Band), The Everly Brothers, Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, Glen Campbell, John Denver, Gram Parsons, Emmylou Harris, Judy Collins, Jerry Lee Lewis, Claude King, Elvis Costello, Joe Osborn, Roy Orbison, Joni Mitchell, Hoyt Axton, Townes Van Zandt, Steve Young, Vince Gill, and Suzi Quatro.

Impressive credentials in anybody’s book—anybody who knows what the hell he’s talking about, anyway. But before I forget, let’s get back to Glen Campbell and his by-no-means-inconsiderable guitar-pickin’ chops.

Yeah, like I said: UNDERrated, if anything. With tasty, countrified-jazz riffage like that in his pocket, ready to be whipped out and sprayed across the landscape anytime he needed ‘em, Glen Campbell was about as “overrated” a guitarslinger as the incomparable Roy Clark was.

They just ain’t making guitar wizards like Glen or Roy anymore, folks, and that’s a crying shame.

Update! Well, I shoulda known such a thing would exist out there, but looky what just popped up coinkydinkally in my YewToob after the Roy Clark vids I was listening to as background music for post-writing were done.

I gots no idea why, but Campbell seemed to favor those weirdo Ovation electrics, like the 12-string he’s working over in the above vid. In fact, it appears that he had a longstanding endorsement deal with Ovation to produce a cpl-three Glen Campbell signature-model guitars. Bizarre, if you ask me. But then, I never have been big on them Ovations, and I damned sure ain’t no Glen Campbell, so what the hell do I know?

“Overrated”? In a pig’s eye. Pull the other one, bright boy, it has a big ol’ bell on it.

Wierderer and wierderer update! That mention of Alice Cooper in the Glen Campbell context above? Yeah, well, just get a load of this right here.

Campbell’s was a remarkable career but was not without its share of tragedy. His popularity both soared and waned. He battled the demons of alcoholism and drug addiction, only to emerge a better man. Illness eventually robbed him of his memory. But through it all, Glen was always revered by other musicians. One of whom was shock rock pioneer Alice Cooper. Campbell and Cooper became friends in the 1980s when both had moved to Phoenix, trying to escape destructive lifestyles. The two men remained friends for the rest of Campbell’s life. In this 2017 interview, Alice Cooper reflects upon the unlikely relationship and beautiful bond he had with his friend Glen Campbell.

“You think of Glen, country; Alice Cooper, rock and roll; we couldn’t have been closer.” Cooper elaborated, “It was unique in the fact that I was so far away from him in music, the character of Alice Cooper, and he was so far into the middle. Really mainstream rock and roll, you know. He could go hang out with the Rat Pack, or he could hang out with Donnie and Marie, or he could hang out with the Beatles or anybody. He was in that middle, he was that sort of all purpose, good-looking kid that could do anything. He was the golden boy. And yet him and I were like this when it came to sense of humor, when it came to golf, when it came to music.”

“It was one of those things where I’d be playing golf with him, and this was when he was in good shape, he was out touring, and he was playing guitar and he was playing golf every day, and he was doing Branson. Every once in a while, he would tell me a joke on the first tee. And then on about the fourth tee, he’d tell me the same joke again. And then about the 16th hole, he would tell me the joke again. And we would all just kind of go ‘well, maybe he’s just forgetful’. We could just see the beginnings of it, of him slipping a little bit.”

“We were telling jokes,” Cooper remembered, “I told him a joke, and he was laughing his head off. Came back about 10 minutes later and he says, ‘Tell me that joke again.’ I tell him the joke. He came back like five times.”

“Yet, you put a guitar in his hand, and he was a virtuoso. You would get him on stage, and he was automatic. I don’t care how much he had slipped; he was there. When it came to that, he was there.”

“We were both songwriters. We were both musicians. We were both in the business 50 years. So, we understood the business.” Alice would go on to say, “I loved being with Glen. I loved playing golf with him. He had a million stories about his world. And I had a million stories about my world. In other words, he would tell me a story about Roger Miller. And Bobby Goldsboro. And this guy, and this guy. And I’d laugh and I’d say, ‘Okay, I’ll tell you a good one on Paul McCartney and Jimi Hendrix’. We could both tell a lot of stories because we were both in those different worlds. And sometimes it crossed over. We did know all the same people. We knew the Sinatras, and we knew Elvis Presley. We both knew the Beatles so a lot of it was just telling stories about the stuff that happened to us. And Glen had some good ones. He got around.”

“I always said as an amateur, 60 yards in, the best player I ever played with. He was a master short game player. We had some really fun times. I played at least one or two times a week with Glen when he lived here.”

“You know if Glen called up and was like, ‘Alice, let’s play tomorrow?’ I’d go, ‘absolutely, let’s go.’” said Cooper. “I loved being with Glen.”

Whodaevvathunkit, huh? What an amazing, heartwarming story. Strange bedfellows, perhaps. But one can only be happy for them that somehow, against all odds, they found each other and developed such a beautiful friendship to gladden their hearts and lighten their burden just that little bit extra.

Deep dive update! Okay, I’m really down the rabbit hole here, but the mention earlier of the Wrecking Crew got me to thinking about some of the great session groups of yore: Booker T & the MGs, the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section, the Mar-Keys, &c. To wit:

Session musicians (also known as studio musicians or backing musicians) are musicians that are hired to perform in recording sessions and/or live performances. The term sideman is also used in the case of live performances, such as accompanying a recording artist on a tour. Session musicians are usually not permanent or official members of a musical ensemble or band. They work behind the scenes and rarely achieve individual fame in their own right as soloists or bandleaders. However, top session musicians are well known within the music industry, and some have become publicly recognized, such as the Wrecking Crew, the Muscle Shoals Rhythm Section and The Funk Brothers who worked with Motown Records.

Many session musicians specialize in playing common rhythm section instruments such as guitar, piano, bass, or drums. Others are specialists, and play brass, woodwinds, and strings. Many session musicians play multiple instruments, which lets them play in a wider range of musical situations, genres and styles. Examples of “doubling” include double bass and electric bass, acoustic guitar and mandolin, piano and accordion, and saxophone and other woodwind instruments.

Session musicians are used when musical skills are needed on a short-term basis. Typically session musicians are used by recording studios to provide backing tracks for other musicians for recording sessions and live performances; recording music for advertising, film, television, and theatre. In the 2000s, the terms “session musician” and “studio musician” are synonymous, though in past decades, “studio musician” meant a musician associated with a single record company, recording studio or entertainment agency.

Session musicians may play in a wide range of genres or specialize in a specific genre (e.g. country music or jazz). Some session musicians with a Classical music background may focus on film score recordings. Even within a specific genre specialization, there may be even more focused sub-specializations. For example, a sub-specialization within trumpet session players is “high note specialist”.

The working schedule for session musicians often depends on the terms set out by musicians’ unions or associations, as these organizations typically set out rules on performance schedules (e.g. regarding length of session and breaks). The length of employment may be as short as a single day, in the case of a recording a brief demo song, or as long as several weeks, if an album or film score is being recorded.

Thanks to my then-gf’s best friend Neil working out of Hit Factory, I got called in myself for some occasional—VERY occasional, they had plenty of bigger and better names than mine on the in-house Rolodex—session work there when I lived in NYC. It was…demanding, to say the very least. Extremely so, in fact. Nonetheless, I loved every minute of it; the pay was good (union scale, usually, which back then in NYC was 500/hr), and I was hugely flattered to even be asked at all. Quite the compliment it was, really.

As promised

Time for those two excellent vids I mentioned earlier. First, we have your feel-good vidya of the week, featuring what I keep insisting ought to be the end result every time a few pAntiFa fascists dare to venture forth from Mom’s basement.


And yet again, we see the Bastards In Blue dashing to the rescue…on the side of their pAntiFa pals, of course and as usual. Maybe it’s about time they started featuring prominently in some of these beatdown-vids their own selves, just to help them get their heads screwed back on straight.

Next up, the legendary Sister Rosetta Tharpe busts one out for us.

One of the most amazing singing voices ever, and the ol’ gal could really rip on that gloriously Bigsbyfied SG Custom too. Believe you me, cranking out those simpler-is-better blues licks on guitar is way, WAY tougher than it looks. I never could do it worth a damn myself, and I did NOT suck on guitar otherwise, either. Try as I might, and I surely did, Sister Tharpe could’ve easily stomped mudholes in my po’ white ass when it comes to blues pickin’, then backed up and walked ‘em dry.

Note too, that she’s doing the right hand proper: finger picking it, although she DOES cheat just a little bit, using a thumb-pick on there. Ah well, as I always say: pobody’s nerfect, right?

Update! Just remembered something my longtime partner in musical crime, Tom “Mookie” Brill, always told me: “You can’t play blues with a pick, man, it’s just impossible.” Being entirely reliant on the Dunlop yellow Tortex picks my whole life, I can testify that the man was 100% correct on that.

And if you click on the Tommy Brill link above, then on the profile pic therein, yes, that’s me in the pic with him, playing my good ol’ pinstriped Gretch Electromatic reissue. A sweet, sweet git-fiddle my girl was, complete with a full-custom Craig Landau neck carve (the “Hendrix profile,” he named it) and a set of TV Jones Magna’Tron pickups that were bright, glassy, and just ballsy as hell all at once.

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