Rock In My World

Graham Parker - White Honey

This week, I spent so much time focusing on the election hoohaa that I pretty much zoned out everything else. To remedy that, I listened to Van Morrison's Tupelo Honey cd in the car, since it seems that is where I do my best listening. (By the way, I highly recommend Morrison to soothe your soul and reclaim your brain. Trust me.) In typical ADD fashion, my mind wandered to Graham Parker's White Honey. Parker pays homage to Morrison's style by invoking the blue-eyed soul, complete with warbly keyboards, driving bass line, and horns. This is one of those Parker songs that I love love, since it's got all of that, plus his snarly vocal. I couldn't wait to get home and drag out Parker's Howlin' Wind album and give it a whirl in the cd player. Whew. My brain was saved.

What election?

Yesterday, I shopped in this very stodgy gift shop in the swanky new section of the Natick Mall, errr, I mean The Natick Collection. (Hoity-toity enough for ya?) This is the kind of store that usually features music like Yanni or Enya or something else from that blah, new-agey, mind-numbing genre in their overhead play, so you'll forget about why you're there and buy an overpriced Willow Tree angel. You know the store. It's the one with the sales lady that wears prissy sweater sets, reeks of Shalimar, and has sports bifocals hanging from a chain around her neck. I strolled in to look at greeting cards, and I was astonished to hear actual rock music. I had to look around! Am I in the right place? I could swear that's Sonic Youth I'm hearing.

This, of course, shook my world. What if I walked into Hot Topic and heard Barry Manilow singing Can't Smile Without You? What if I headed into Gymboree and heard Slipknot blaring while mommies shopped for outfits for their kidlets? That would happen in bizarro world!

Perhaps the gift store clerk flipped the wrong switch and had no idea how to rectify the situation, or maybe she was just a rock and roller under all of the mall sales lady clothing. Who knows. But hearing Teen Age Riot while I skimmed through the birthday cards was a rare treat that I'm certain will not reoccur.

This leads to the flashback. I was tempted to play that great Sonic Youth song, but during the drive home, I started thinking about when it was released. 1988. Lots of good, lasting tunage came out that year, including Tracy Chapman's debut, Fisherman's Blues from The Waterboys, and The Traveling Wilburys' Vol. 1. I think the Pixies' released Surfer Rosa in 88, as well.

I'm know I'm leaving out some choice releases, but I had to focus on the traffic and avoid the Massholes surrounding me, waiting to cut me off at any moment.

Today's flashback is from The Traveling Wilburys, Vol. 1. I've chosen a couple of deep cuts from the album, Tweeter and the Monkey Man, featuring Dylan on lead vocal and a definite Jeff Lynne production sound, and Not Alone Any More, the Roy Orbison showcase song.

Donnie Iris - Ah! Leah!

Yes, it's totally cheesy, but whenever I hear it, it sends me back to 1981, when I finally moved back to the states from Guam. I had just settled in a duplex in OB (That's Ocean Beach, and I still call it that. I also have an OB decal on my car window to this day.), and I was in radio heaven. After four years living in a place that had one decent radio station, and one so-so backup, I had plenty of choice. There were a few good stations in San Diego, and if I tweaked my antenna just right, I could occasionally pull in KROQ or KLOS from the LA area. I'm relatively certain this song got airplay on those stations, as well as those that played Top 40 songs.

A little factoid about the song: Donnie Iris, who can't stop his burning desire for Leah, was a member of the funk-rock band Wild Cherry. Remember Play That Funky Music, White Boy? He was also a member of The Jaggerz, and wrote a hit song for them, The Rapper. Donnie is still around, too, and performs with Donnie Iris and The Cruisers, mostly near his home in western Pennsylvania.

This week on the Contrast Podcast, the theme was Album Closers, and I chose Elvis Costello's final song from the US release of "This Year's Model", "Radio Radio." I usually put considerable thought into my choice, so I mulled over several choices of what I consider perfect album closers before I settled on the Costello song. Here's a short list:

The Beatles - A Day In The Life, from Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

The Who - Love, Reign O'er Me from Quadrophenia

Radiohead - Street Spirit (Fade Out) from The Bends

Pink Floyd - Eclipse from The Dark Side Of The Moon

Fleetwood Mac - Albatross from English Rose

Elliott Smith - Say Yes from Either/Or

Cat Stevens - Tea For the Tillerman from Tea For the Tillerman

Ben Folds Five - Evaporated from Whatever And Ever Amen

Led Zeppelin - When The Levee Breaks from Led Zeppelin IV

The Clash - Train in Vain from London Calling

Joni Mitchell - The Last Time I Saw Richard from Blue

Patti Smith - Elegie from Horses

Every one of those is a perfect ending to a great album. It is difficult for me to choose one song for today's flashback, so I randomly chose the Ben Folds Five song, "Evaporated."

Music of 1973

Imagine this: you are hit by a car and knocked out, and when you come to, it's 1973. That is the premise of the new ABC series (based on a BBC show), Life On Mars. Sounds cool. If you've seen the trailers or just some stills of the cast and you can remember 1973, you might say, "Groovy," or "Far Out." I mean, check out Michael Imperioli's hair and suit. He looks like he could fit right in with Barney Miller's 12th precinct guys.

Of course, all of this has me flashing back to the fall of 1973, when I was a junior in high school. I heard my first Pink Floyd music over that summer, and though I still leaned toward the schmaltzy pop music of the day, the groundwork was laid for the future rock-loving Nat you have come to know.

The songs are all from Cash Box's Top 100 of the week ending on Oct. 13, 1973:

Joe Walsh - Rocky Mountain Way

Grand Funk Railroad - We're An American Band

Deep Purple - Woman From Tokyo

70's Power Pop Flashback

Flamin' Groovies - Shake Some Action

The Rubinoos - The Girl

20/20 - Yellow Pills

I'm on a little power pop kick, trying to get out of a funk I've been in all year. Nothing makes me feel better than the blissful sounds of 3 chords chiming out on electric guitars over some soaring harmonies and a driving drum beat. This week's flashback is a three-fer, since we could all use a little lift from the battering of bad news we've been having lately.

This week, those Flamin' Groovies were on my playlist, so join me in flashing back to the power pop of 1976. (The year Dazed And Confused, one of my favorite Linklater movies, takes place!) The Groovies were signed to Sire Records, which was pretty indie in the seventies, with such bands as Talking Heads and The Ramones.

Next up is The Rubinoos, a power pop duo from Berkeley, CA, who signed with a new label, Berserkley Records, in 1975, when they were young teens. Their first record, The Rubinoos, debuted in 1977 and charted a mild hit with a cover of Tommy James' I Think We're Alone Now.

Finally we have 20/20, a Tulsa, OK band with a power pop fanzine named after one of their songs, Yellow Pills. The fanzine went bust in the nineties, but there are several power pop compilations cds available here and there online. I have two of them, and I find them highly addicting, which has sent me on a quest to find the rest.

The Plimsouls - A Million Miles Away

These flashbacks are giving me a headache. Oh wait, maybe it's just the war, the 700 billion dollar bailout, the prospect of a depression, the .....

You get it. I wish I was a million miles away sometimes.

Thank goodness I have music like this Plimsouls song and mood-enhancing candles and bubble bath to help alleviate the pain of it all.

From 1983, here's a power pop classic, A Million Miles Away.

Three Dog Night - The Show Must Go On

This week's flashback occured last Saturday during Sticks' company outing at Canobie Lake Park. Every time I go to an amusement park, I get this Three Dog Night song stuck in my head because of the circusy calliope part that rears its ugly head over and over.

3DN's version is a cover of a Leo Sayer song, which I recall seeing him perform in clown makeup on either The Midnight Special or one of those other pop music shows in the seventies. Sayer's is kind of wistful, folky pop, while 3DN throws some of their signature rockin' pop sound. While it is far from my favorite 3DN song, it's catchy and it makes me want to head out to a fall carnival.

David Naughton - Makin' It

The thing about flashbacks is that they're not always pleasant or welcome, as was the case this week.

I was lazy and a little bit tired on Wednesday, which was brought on by a bout of insomnia the night before. I was, therefore, loafing on the sofa in the afternoon, flipping through channel after channel of television mediocrity, until I hit paydirt: Meatballs! Hot damn, I saw that at the movies in its original release! I remember thinking it was hilarious, even though it's obviously low-budget and fairly predictable. (This movie did not hold up well, and Bill Murray's Tripper character seemed pretty annoying from my old age perspective and without chemical assistance.)

I tuned in about halfway through, so I missed some good stuff, but I did catch the dance scene. This flick is from 1979, so, of course, the dance music is heavily disco based. AAACK! And that song: Makin' It. It's by that guy who used to dance around in a vest and sing "Be a Pepper, drink Dr. Pepper!" (He was also the dude who turned into a werewolf in An American Werewolf In London, which would, I guess, be his greatest career success. And, funny, he's still working, and he can't seem to escape the wolf thing; he was in a movie called Big Bad Wolf in 2006.)

I remember hearing Makin' It on one of the two radio stations I listened to in Guam. Yes, there was more than one, even on an island that's only about 200 square miles. There was an FM station that played the big hits of the day along with some AOR stuff, and a decent AM station that played a good mix of rock, folk, and country, including some progressive music. Anyway, Makin' It was all over that FM station, as they were prone to running a song into the ground, and I kind of liked it at first. It was catchy. But then that Pepper guy got a little too full of himself and thought he was Mr. Pop Star on American Bandstand. Oh come on! Get over yourself, already! After that, I'd flip over to the AM station to escape the disco. I could catch Rickie Lee Jones or The Band on that station, and unlike Rod Stewart or The Stones, they hadn't been sucked into the disco black hole.

Neither Meatballs nor Makin' It has aged well, but at least the song doesn't make me want to smash the speakers any longer. It's still kind of catchy, in a cheesy disco kind of way. So get out your white disco suits and your platform shoes, friends, and shake your butts.

The Rumour - My Little Red Book

Even though I quit my job, I'm filling up my date book with workshops, meetings, girls days out, and the like. I don't know where I'd be without my little red book (well, it's more of a maroon, but that's red, right?) As I stood at my kitchen island filling in dates, I flashed back to this cool song from The Rumour, one of those new-wavy contemporaries of Elvis Costello and Nick Lowe. They were on Stiff Records, which was a tres cool label filled with new wave and punk acts. It was so cool that one of their slogans was ""If It Ain't Stiff, It Ain't Worth a Fuck."

Graham Parker of The Rumour is still at it, and he's still putting out fine music.