Twangin’ and Bangin’

Get Woke, go…

Posted on April 5, 2023April 5, 2023 by Mike

Well, not broke, exactly. Somehow, that never seems to happen. But still.

Country Music Mega-Star Travis Tritt Drops Anheuser-Busch Products From His Tour
With Bud Light going ultra-woke by embracing transvestite Dylan Mulvaney as their new spokesman, conservatives across the spectrum have spoken out and threatened a boycott.

Country music mega-star Travis Tritt is one of them. He has removed all products of Bud Light’s parent company, Anheuser-Busch, from his tour’s hospitality rider.

For the uninitiated, which I’m guessing would be most non-showbiz types, that “hospitality rider” business simply means that there will no longer be any Anheuser-Busch products chilling down in big buckets of ice in Tritt’s backstage Green Room. I’d like it a lot better if he’d announced that, henceforth, there would be no A-B pisswater beer being sold at his shows, but of course he doesn’t have control over that; no artist, however “mega” a star he may be, does. Kudos to Tritt anyhow, for doing what little he can to slap back at the cringing, cowardly rumpswabs at Anheuser-Busch. Calls for a celebratory embed, I do believe.

The old Charlie Daniels chestnut, of course, capably done justice to by Tritt, who’s a damned fine guitarist. I’ve been known to pull that one out of the hat now and then my own self, back in my pickin’ and grinnin’ days.

Update! Kid Rock goes Tritt one better.

pic.twitter.com/dSmCGySoul

— KidRock (@KidRock)

April 4, 2023

TELL it, Grampa.

(Via GP)

Everything’s coming up Cowboys

Posted on April 4, 2023April 4, 2023 by Mike

BCE commended this vid to my attention on the phone the other day, and despite the fact that I am by NO means what anyone would call a New Country fan, it’s actually pretty good.

There’s an equally good backstory to the vid, the band, and particularly the old dude who takes a real star turn in it, which you can click on over to Big Country’s joint to check out.

Is it plagiarism if I steal from myself?

Posted on March 14, 2023March 14, 2023 by Mike

Maybe “Joe Biden” would be the one to ask about that; he is, after all, an expert in the field, a past-master of the craft.

Anyways, yesterday’s Eyrie post, in addition to bringing about a most gratifying e-mail exchange with GoV’s Baron Bodissey, also featured a classic video by 70s prog-rock mainstays, Yes.

One of my best friends in my misspent youth as a long-haired, gaudy-polyester-shirt clad (BEWARE: mystery click, not for the weak of stomach or faint of heart), Whalebones-platform-heel shod ne’er do well teen circa 75-76 was a YUUUGE Yes fan. We whiled away many an hour ensconced in his bedroom at his folks’ place endlessly spinning The Yes Album, Fragile, Tales From Topgraphic Oceans, and of course Yessongs on his top ‘o the line Technics turntable, blasting ’em loud and proud through an audiophile-level Marantz system.

It was great fun, although he never did convert me to being as big a Genesis fan as he was. Nor King Crimson neither; as a dyed in the wool hard rocker myself, that stuff was just way too flaccid and lame for my sharper-edged, rowdier taste.

But I did dig Yes, and through the years I’ve remained quite fond of ‘em, for whatever reason. Go figger, eh?

Like ‘em though I did, and do, somehow the backstory of “Yours Is No Disgrace” as an antiwar but pro-soldier anthem had gotten by me completely, until I stumbled across this at-length explainer on YewToob yesterday. In my own defense, Yes’s lyrics were always obscure to the point of being completely opaque, even after multitudinous listenings. As a teen I had long since stopped even trying to make sense of them, but here we have it in their own words.

Yessongs depicts a Yes concert at the Rainbow Theatre in London during the band’s Close to the Edge Tour on 15 December 1972. “Close to the Edge” and “Würm” are the same performances as heard on the Yessongs album.

“Yours is no Disgrace” is the opening track from the band’s 3rd studio album titled “The Yes Album” recorded at Advision Studios, London with audio engineer Eddy Offord as their co-producer in autumn months of 1970 & released Feb 19, 1971. It was the band’s first album to feature guitarist Steve Howe, who replaced Peter Banks in 1970, as well as their last to feature keyboardist Tony Kaye until 1983’s 90125. The album was the first by the band not to feature any cover versions of songs & was a critical success and a major commercial breakthrough for Yes, who had been at risk of being dropped by Atlantic due to the commercial failures of their first two albums.

“Yours Is No Disgrace” originated from some lyrics written by Anderson with his friend David Foster. This was combined with other short segments of music written by the band in rehearsals. Howe worked out the opening guitar riff on his own while the rest of the band took a day’s holiday. The backing track was recorded by the group in sections, then edited together to make up the final piece.

According to Edward Macan, “Yours Is No Disgrace” “is generally recognized as Yes’ first antiwar song.” Anderson has stated that the theme of the song was recognition that the kids fighting the (Vietnam) war had no choice but to fight and that the war wasn’t their fault.

Governments fight wars, not men and women – therefore yours is no disgrace. The message is that war has no winners & no real meaning – as Jon Anderson has explained, the young people going off to fight the war had no say in the matter, and the war itself was certainly not their fault.

“Death defying, mutilated armies scatter the earth, Crawling out of dirty holes, their morals, their morals disappear” – killing is brutal & cruel, but the disgrace falls not on the soldiers, but on those who orchestrated the war.”

The lyric in this song, “Caesar’s Palace, morning glory, silly human race,” helps explain the story behind it. Caesar’s Palace is a casino in Las Vegas, and an interesting reference for a British band to make. Anderson: “Well, I’d just been to Vegas and it was amazing how crazy the place was and how silly we are. Silly human race. It was something to do with how crazy we can be as a human race to be out there flittering money around and gambling, trying to earn that big payout, when actually that’s not what life is truly about. Our life is truly about finding our divine connection with God, if you like. You know, that’s why we live.

“And whenever I sing that song, it always comes back to me that I’m singing about that kind of Caesar’s Palace, morning glory, sweet human race – it’s on a sailing ship to nowhere, planet earth. The planet earth is not going anywhere. It’s going around the sun, of course, but we’re on this sailing ship to nowhere, leaving anyplace. It’s like Earth Mother. So don’t worry about stuff, it’s not our fault if things go wrong.”

The entire band is credited with writing this song. Steve Howe has said that his guitar part is one of his favorite contributions to Yes. With modern equipment, they were able to do overdubs, which was new to Howe. “It was a ‘studioized’ solo because it was made up in different sections,” he said. “I became three guitarists.”

I’d say he did at that, yeah. What really struck me about this particular video is the playful rockabilly jam at the beginning, showcasing Howe’s easygoing facility for a style I would’ve assumed he barely even knew existed at all until I saw this. As you can see, Chris Squire and Rick Wakeman jump right in with Howe joyously and entirely competently—a real musical revelation that’s as unexpected (to me, at least) as it is delightful.

Funny, innit, that I had to wait all these years for Jon Anderson to finally make sense of those damned lyrics for me. Now do “Roundabout,” willya Jon?

Jump you fuckers!

Posted on March 13, 2023 by Mike

Ladies and gents, may I present what really ought to be our new national anthem.

Against all odds, the vid does have a happy ending after all, so stay tuned for it. Via WRSA, who has also thoughtfully included a transcription of the lyrics in toto for your enjoyment and edification.

Everything old is new again Part the Eighty-Nine Hundred Thousandth

Posted on March 11, 2023March 11, 2023 by Mike

One for BPs drummer, my cousin Mark.

Sales of vinyl albums overtake CDs for the first time since the late ’80s
Streaming still accounts for 84% of music revenue, but vinyl is having a moment.

Sales of vinyl records have been on the rise for years, but according to the RIAA’s 2022 year-end revenue report for the music industry (PDF), record sales hit a new high last year. For the first time since 1987, unit sales of vinyl albums outpaced those of CDs, vindicating all the people who have spent decades of their lives talking about how vinyl “just sounds better.”

Although vinyl unit sales only surpassed CDs last year, revenue from vinyl records has been higher than revenue from CDs for a while now. In 2022, the RIAA says that vinyl albums earned $1.2 billion, compared to $483 million for CDs. The growth in vinyl was more than enough to offset a drop in CD revenue, helping overall physical media revenue climb 4 percent over 2021 (which was already way up over 2020).

Streaming services still account for the vast majority of all music revenue in the US—84 percent, up from 83 percent in 2021. The RIAA says there was an average of 92 million streaming music subscriptions active in 2022, which, together with digital radio and ad-supported sites like YouTube, generated $13.3 billion. The growth of streaming services and physical media comes at the expense of paid digital downloads, which accounted for a mere 3 percent of all music revenue in 2022.

There have always been people who have asserted that music played on vinyl sounds better than digital music, but that probably doesn’t explain vinyl’s increasing popularity this long after the advent of CDs, MP3s, and streaming music. A vinyl album is large enough to double as an art piece, and there’s something appealing about the tactility of physical objects in an age where media is increasingly ephemeral.

I do have to admit, CDs DID kinda render album-cover art—which, during the rock era many audiophiles and record geeks truly did consider it to be such, and a lot of it was at that, or had artistic ambitions anyway, with both bands and designers crafting it with that precise intention in mind—pretty much immaterial, since you’d need a magnifying glass to be able to see it well enough to really appreciate it.

Oh, and the reason I mentioned Mark above is that he has a vinyl collection that one has to see to believe—boxes and boxes of records, in 45 and 33 both, all neatly tucked away in plastic sleeves to keep the dust and moisture out. All arranged in alphabetical order, no less. There are some real gems in those boxes too—limited editions, vintage rarities, colored vinyl, the whole kit and kaboodle. It’s any record geek’s wet dream.

Every city, town, village, or burg we’d hit for a show, time allowing, off Mark would jet to the local used-record emporium, returning to the hotel with multiple whacking-great shopping-bags fairly brimming over with deluxe finds. Same-same when we were off—because hey, that’s what Saturday afternoons are FOR, capisce?

Over time, he’d come to learn what was really worth purchasing and what wasn’t, winding up as a bona fide expert when it came to sniffing out 24k LP gold—however obscure, wherever it might be lurking. God only knows what the whole collection might be worth by now, but it would have to tot up to some serious money. So yeah, this one’s for him.

(Via Ed)

Serendipitous embed

Posted on March 7, 2023March 7, 2023 by Mike

So I recently re-connected with an old and very dear friend of mine from New Jersey I had lost touch with for the last several years, which reunion I was happy enough about to be inspired to make a custom ringtone for her on my sail foam. I settled on this great old song from the Fastest Guitarist In The West, otherwise referred to as the great Alvin Lee. It’s good enough that I thought I’d put it out here, just for grins.

Lee’s star began its rise after his performance at Woodstock, his fame then cemented by a confirmational tenure as singer/guitarist/songwriter/frontman for Ten Years After—a pop-chart-hitmaker outfit he decided to walk away from in preference for a long, stellar solo career playing more bluesy stuff like the above toothsome confection. He would go on to work with just about everybody who’s anybody in the rock and roll universe, bless his heart, and kept on a-rockin’ until his death in Spain in 2013. God rest ye, Alvin, and thanks for all the good music you left for us.

Wack!

Posted on February 23, 2023February 26, 2023 by Mike

One for Kenny, in honor of his comment here: The Young-Holt Unlimited’s unforgettable 60s soul classic “Wack Wack.”

Update! What the hell, while we’re on the 60s soul music, here’s two more for my old friend, legendary CLT lounge-lizard Mr Roy.

Great stuff, that. Might’s well throw in one of my own personal faves while we’re at it.

Background on Mr Roy: Roy is an elderly, diminutive black fella who also happens to be one of the most dapper men of any age I’ve ever had the privilege of hanging out barside with. Roy is a truly dedicated lover of the good old blues, soul, rockabilly, and zydeco music. To my knowledge, he never missed a BP’s performance at the late, lamented Double Door Inn, even with as loud and rowdy as we were notorious for being.

Every year, without fail, Roy would pile in his pristine Cadillac and make the 12-hour drive down to New Orleans for Jazzfest. Way back when, I made a pact with Roy that I was gonna make that particular trip with him sometime. Alas, the scheduling never worked out for me to be able to do it, to my everlasting regret.

Everybody around town knew and loved Mr Roy. A fixture on the local dive-bar and live-music scene, Roy could reliably be seen sitting on a stool at one bar or another sipping on a Scotch and milk, a bevy of dynamite young white chicks in close and hanging on his every word.

And what words they were, too; he had a store of catchphrases he would toss off, like “Mighty fine, might fine” or “I’m a charming motherfucker!” That one led to years of debate between me and Mr Roy; one night in some gin-joint or other, he declared me a “bad motherfucker,” whereupon I responded in the only way I could think of: “No, Roy, YOU’RE a bad motherfucker!” He shot back, “No, I’m a CHARMING motherfucker, YOU’RE the BAD motherfucker!” I can’t even begin to tell you how flattered I was by that. This good-natured ribbing was taken up again many times after that first night, and we’d both just about kill ourselves laughing when it did, every time.

So popular was Mr Roy and his catchphrases around here that a local artist got a snapshot of Roy, highball glass in hand, which he then did up in the style of those old Shepard Fairey posters—logoed with one of Roy’s notable catchphrases, natch, not “Obey Giant” or any of that later “Hope & Change” malarkey—and did a limited-edition run of them to give away at various local dens of iniquity. I had Mr Roy autograph my copy for me:

Had to take a photo, because it’s way too big to fit into my scanner. The lighting is all wrong, but hey, don’t hate me ’cause I’m beautiful, aiight?

I referred to Mr Roy in the past tense a couple times above, but having aged out of the bar/live music circuit myself a few years back after the curse of Viking Disease had junked my guitar-playing hands, I really couldn’t say if Roy is still around or not. I sure hope he is; there never was enough like him out there, and once they’re gone, they ain’t coming back. Whether he’s gone or still kicking, his poster will have a position of honor on my living-room wall wherever I may live, for as long as I do.

Emperor of Emperors

Posted on February 18, 2023February 18, 2023 by Mike

Last night in the wee, small hours, I was lying in bed listening to the radio when I heard the familiar strains of the intro to Beethoven’s rightfully beloved Piano Concerto No 5, otherwise known as the “Emperor” concerto. Those who aren’t orchestral music afficionados might know it from this Immortal Beloved scene.

Actually, that scene isn’t quite historically accurate; to begin with, Beethoven never publicly performed the Emperor himself. To wit:

That particular scene did not happen, as Beethoven was no longer playing in public by the time he wrote “The Emperor “. However, an incident DID happen at an earlier concert Beethoven gave.

First, the scene must be set. In Beethoven’s time, there was rarely a conductor when it came to piano concerto performances. The pianist also conducted the orchestra, as the pianist was also usually the composer as well.

There was no electric lighting then; candles and candelabra were used, and the pianist usually played from his own score. Thus, there were usually two candles on the piano to illuminate the score

In a piano concerto there are often huge passages of music where the piano doesn’t play, and it was in one of these places that Beethoven, now CONDUCTING the orchestra, forgot about the two candles, and in an exuberant and sweeping gesture, knocked over both candles, much to the amusement (and laughter) of the audience. Beethoven himself was not amused, but rather mortified. BUT HE DID NOT WALK OFF THE STAGE. He was too busy conducting despite the little mishap.

The incident is related in Alexander Thayer’s biography of Beethoven.

There were somewhat similar incidents, if I remember right (and I may very well not, mind) at the premiere performances of his disastrous Fidelio, the 5th Symphony, and the 9th Symphony.

Now as y’all know, I am regularly annoyed by the contemporary tendency, on the part of players and conductors alike, to rampage through their arrangements as if the primary objective was not to do the compositions justice, nor even to just bring some wonderful music to life for the audience, but simply to get through the piece as fast as they possibly can. As if they were on some kind of clock or timer or something, or maybe that they thought there was a cash prize for the quickest time.

Happily, in the version of the Emperor I heard last night there was no sign of any such madness. It was so perfectly executed I actually crawled out of bed and rolled over to the iMac to crank the volume up loud before the first movement was done, waving my arms over my head madly as if I was leading the orchestra myself. It really was that good. Even in the third movement, the Rondo/Allegro, the pianist refused to rush or otherwise molest the piece. All the joy and majesty of Beethoven’s essential staple for the piano repertoire was captured and transmitted to the listener’s ear flawlessly, with conductor Vladimir Jurowski leading the Staatskapelle Dresden with faithful attention to pianist Hélène Grimaud’s lead.

The whole thing was as thrilling an example of artistic collaboration and cooperation between soloist, conductor, and orchestra as I ever did hear. And believe you me, I’ve heard plenty over lo, these many years.

After I had found the below vid on YewToob and cued it up for an encore, I then set out to learn more about this Grimaud woman; I’d heard of her before, but didn’t know much about her beyond what she’d just shown me with her masterful rendition of the Emperor. From her own website:

Talking at the time of recording, conductor Vladimir Jurowski commented “For me the most admirable and also the most unusual thing about Hélène’s music making is the spontaneity – in the moment of music-making its born anew…and that’s why it’s always an extremely gripping adventure to make music with her.”

Reviewing the album The London Times wrote “this Emperor concerto ditches the monument approach for the excitements of febrile drama and crisp attack” and the Philadelphia Enquirer commented “The star of the disc is Helene Grimaud, and rightly so: She usually has a firm intellectual and technical grasp on whatever she’s performing, and that’s particularly the case here. It’s penetrating, dry-eyed Beethoven rendered with such technical clarity that you realize there’s even more to the piece than what usually meets the ears.”

Even that effusive praise doesn’t do the lady justice, if you ask me. Listen for yourself and see if you don’t agree.

Well blast it, another vid you might have to click over to YewToob to watch, looks like. Ah well, it’s definitely worth the trip.

Hate Of The Union

Posted on February 7, 2023February 8, 2023 by Mike

Once again, I didn’t bother with China Joe’s annual Hate Of The Union meat-beat, and you shouldn’t have either. Ace links to a good article laying out the jaw-slackening lies and distortions, if you’re into that sort of thing at all. But I ain’t, so I’ll limit my own editorial response to the following classic:

I think that about says all that really needs to be said, don’t you?

Update! The great Catturd says it for me.

I’d rather strip naked, dip my balls in Tupelo honey, and sit on a fire ant hill – than to watch that creepy demented balloon buffoon mumble through The State Of Confusion.

— Catturd ™ (@catturd2)

February 8, 2023

You and me both, brother. You and me both. Via Dave Renegade.

Updated update! Perfect one-liner from the best Presidential press secretary of all time’s HOTU response: “The choice is between normal and crazy.” You really said a mouthful there, girl.

Happy birthday to meeeee!

Posted on February 5, 2023February 6, 2023 by Mike

Yep, today’s my birthday. Nope, I ain’t gonna say how old I am, but it’s plenty old, I assure you. I squeaked through and made it by the skin of my teeth this year; it was a near-run thing, no doubt about it. But here I am nonetheless, and here I shall remain, at least for a little while longer yet. For that, I’m truly thankful.

I was also fortunate enough to have my daughter with me yesterday and today, and on the way back to drop her off at her mom’s place we heard a more modern update to one her favorite songs on the radio—an update she just absolutely despises, which naturally meant Daddy had to crank it way the hell up, just to annoy her. And now I’m pleased as punch to pass the source of her irritation along to the rest of y’all.

Seriously, though, thanks to all you CF Lifers for being here for me, and for making my days a little brighter with all you do.

Train up a child in the way that he should go

Posted on January 27, 2023 by Mike

Okay, if this is a newfangled technique in classroom instruction, I am one hundred percent down with it.

I want my young ‘un going to this school, not the one with Drag Queen Grooming Hour. Thanks to Wendy for the steer.

Kings of the boogie

Posted on January 23, 2023 by Mike

That’s what they used to call Canned Heat, whose “Goin’ Up The Country” vid I posted last night as accompaniment to a post on a topic other than music. It’s hilarious, how the boys keep poking fun at the fact that they’re lip-syncing, with the flautist and bassist not even bothering to pretend they’re playing at all here and there.

Then I saw this comment at NC Renegades:

Great old song there from my youth. My first born daughter was inspired by it so much she took up the flute as her 1st instrument in school band class. It would make a most excellent boogaloo song too.

…and that’s when I knew I simply HAD to embed another great Canned Heat tune as an encore. So Robehr Orinski, this one’s for you, buddy.

Ohhhhh yeah, Kings of the boogie is RIGHT.

One for Arthur

Posted on January 20, 2023January 20, 2023 by Mike

I won’t bother going into it, you can go read his post for all that; it’s the utterly loathsome Sheila Jackass Lee, a dumbass among dumbasses, and therefore comes as no real surprise. I just wanted to seize the opportunity to embed this fine Minor Threat vidya, that’s all.

Lyrics, just for the sheer hell of it:

Oh, I’m sorry
For something that I didn’t do
Lynched somebody
But I don’t know who
You blame me for slavery
A hundred years before I was born

Guilty of being white
Guilty of being white
Guilty of being white
Guilty of being white

I’m a convict (Guilty!)
Of a racist crime (Guilty!)
I’ve only served (Guilty!)
Nineteen years of my time

Update! And just like that, down a major Minor Threat rabbithole I go. I’d almost forgotten how much I loved that band back in my misspent punk-rock youth. Here, have another.

Minor Threat’s singer…uhm, shouter, Ian MacKaye, later went on to form another band, the sorta art-rock-y Fugazi, which carried MacKaye right up to the ragged, jagged edge of real fame and music-biz success. Not to my particular taste, really, but Minor Threat damned sure is.

Five years gone

Posted on January 16, 2023January 16, 2023 by Mike

I began working on this post earlier yesterday, Jan 15th being the actual anniversary date of Dolores O’Riordan’s death in 2018, but balked at finishing the damnable thing. For any fan of O’Riordan’s music (and I most definitely am that), let alone the family and friends who loved her best, it’s a most painful anniversary indeed. In the end, though, I just couldn’t let it go by unremarked.

What an incredible talent she was. From Wikipedia:

Dolores Mary Eileen O’Riordan (/oʊˈrɪərdən/ oh-REER-dən; 6 September 1971 – 15 January 2018) was an Irish musician, singer and songwriter. She was best known as the lead vocalist and lyricist for the alternative rock band the Cranberries. One of the most recognizable voices in rock in the 1990s, she was known for her lilting mezzo-soprano voice, signature yodel, emphasized use of keening, and strong Limerick accent.

O’Riordan was born in County Limerick, Ireland, to a Catholic working-class family. She began to perform as a soloist in her church choir before leaving secondary school to join the Cranberries in 1990. Recognised for her “unique” voice, she quickly achieved worldwide fame. During her lifetime, she released seven studio albums with the Cranberries, including four number-one albums. Over the years, she contributed to the release of Everybody Else Is Doing It, So Why Can’t We? (1993), No Need to Argue (1994), To the Faithful Departed (1996), Bury the Hatchet (1999) and Wake Up and Smell the Coffee (2001) before taking a six-year hiatus starting in 2003.

O’Riordan’s first solo album, Are You Listening?, was released in May 2007 and was followed up by No Baggage in August 2009. She reunited with the Cranberries the same year. The band released Roses (2012) and went on a world tour. She appeared as a judge on RTÉ‘s The Voice of Ireland during the 2013–14 season. In April 2014, O’Riordan joined and began recording new material with the trio D.A.R.K. Throughout her life, she had to overcome personal challenges. O’Riordan struggled with depression and the pressure of her own success, and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in 2015. She subsequently released her last album with the group, Something Else (2017).

O’Riordan died from drowning due to alcohol intoxication in January 2018. The following year, the Cranberries released the Grammy-nominated album In the End (2019), featuring her final vocal recordings, and subsequently disbanded. With the Cranberries, O’Riordan sold more than 40 million albums worldwide during her lifetime; that total increased to almost 50 million albums worldwide as of 2019, excluding her solo albums. In the US, she was awarded fourteen Platinum album certifications by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA), and in Canada, ten Platinum certifications. In the UK, she received five Platinum certifications. She was honoured with the Ivor Novello International Achievement award, and in the months following her death, she was named “The Top Female Artist of All Time” on Billboard‘s Alternative Songs chart.

Tragically, Dolores had a pretty tough go of things, beginning early on in her life.

In 2013, O’Riordan told LIFE Magazine she was molested for four years starting when she was 8 years old by someone whom she trusted.

The rocker often talked about how motherhood was her priority, and also said having children changed her life for the better. “The kids were actually completely elemental in my healing process,” she told LIFE about trying to move on from the abuse.

In 2011, O’Riordan was also devastated after losing her father Terence to cancer. “I felt him around me a lot for a while. I could feel him trying to protect me and communicate with me,” she told Billboard last year.

She also revealed to the Belfast Telegraph that she “tried to overdose” in 2013, but that she was “meant to stay here for the kids.”

Additionally, she opened up to the outlet about her struggles with substance abuse. “I am pretty good but sometimes I hit the bottle,” she said. “Everything is way worse the next morning. I have a bad day when I have bad memories and I can’t control them and I hit the bottle. I kind of binge drink. That is kind of my biggest flaw at the moment.”

But enough of all that sort of thing. When we remember Dolores O’Riordan, let it be her soaring, lovely voice which transcends the despair for us, lighting up mortal darkness in the way that only music can ever do.

Rest easy, Dolores, and be ye now and forevermore at peace.

A look back

Posted on January 14, 2023January 15, 2023 by Mike

At the man who helped make Elvis the once and forever King.

On the day Sam Phillips died, the crowd at the world’s (alleged) all-time biggest rock concert, in Toronto, booed and threw bottles at teen heartthrob Justin Timberlake, of the boy band ‘N Sync. Master Timberlake was said to be too “plastic” and “manufactured” for the taste of rock fans there to see Rush and AC/DC. This is the fellow to whom, as she revealed this summer, Britney Spears surrendered her much-advertised virginity, which suggests that letting the suits in the head office mold your identity is not without its compensations. But young Justin sportingly said he thought the bottle-hurling was “understandable”.

And so it is. Rock’n’roll may be the most aggressively corporate branch of showbusiness ever invented but it’s still obsessed with being “raw” and “authentic” and “countercultural”. That’s where Sam Phillips comes in: he represents rock’s BC era – Before Corporate -before Elvis said goodbye to Sam’s Sun Records, in Memphis, and headed for RCA and Hollywood and Vegas. But back in 1954 it was Sam who told Elvis to sing the country song (“Blue Moon Of Kentucky”) kinda bluesy and the blues song (“That’s All Right”) kinda country, and, as Elvis was a polite 19-year old who obliged his elders, somewhere in the crisscross something clicked.

No, no, a thousand times no. Or not quite, anyhow. Contrary to popular belief, Elvis allowed himself to be wheedled, cajoled, or otherwise manipulated by absolutely NOBODY when it came to his music. As Peter’s Guralnick’s brilliantly-done two-part biography of him makes abundantly plain, Elvis knew exactly what he was doing from the very beginning, only losing his way both musically and personally after succumbing to various excesses and overindulgences in the early 70s.

Phillips’s nevertheless crucial role in one Elvis Aron Presley’s (Aron pronounced “AY-ron,” the better to sync with the name of his stillborn twin Jesse Garon, actually) journey ever upwards from rawboned aspiring singer and interpreter of the Great American Songbook, which is how Elvis saw himself and was all he ever dreamed of being, was that of a collaborator and partner, not a Svengali.

It’s the Phillips tracks that redeem Elvis for everything that came afterward.

Not necessarily. Can even a remotely credible contention be made that these stellar vocal performances somehow need to be “redeemed”?

No sir, it can NOT. Onwards. Seeing as how my music posts tend to run a bit, um, long, and also that Elvis, Phillips, and rock and roll generally are subjects I’ve spent most of my “adult” (allegedly) life studying closely, I’ll tuck the rest of this one below the fold.

Continue reading “A look back” →

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