Rating the Rolling Stones [the first 20 years]

For reference, I’m going to use the U.S. releases as these were the prevalent CD’s until 2002.  Note that the U.K. versions of  1965’s Out Of Our Heads and 1966’s Aftermath vary greatly [1967’s Between the Buttons less so] from what the U.S. market was given – like the Beatles, the Stones’ singles in the U.K. were not put on the album. And like the Beatles the two countries releases were synched up in 1967, in this case starting with Their Satanic Majesties.

21. Metamorphosis – As a result of splitting from Allen Klein at the end of the 60s, Klein’s company ABKCO won control of the Stones masters from 1962-1969. This dump of 14 outtakes plus a decidedly morbid Heart Of Stone with an organ as the lead instrument and Out Of Time with strings is mostly bottom of the barrel dreck. Even the Stones take on Memo From Turner is pretty bad. [The London Singles Collection uses Jagger’s first solo single version with Ry Cooder on guitar.] Save your ears and just get Don’t Lie To Me, I Don’t Know Why, Jiving Sister Fanny and I’m Going Down off of Amazon and don’t look back.

20. Flowers – As noted, [and much as Capitol had done with the Beatles], the stones US/Canada label London felt free to cut and paste the Rolling Stones catalog as it was received. In most cases this was to add whatever singles were out or had just finished their run. Flowers is the second collection of a couple of singles plus songs pulled from the UK versions of Aftermath and Between the Buttons. [I actually would recommend seeking out the UK versions of those two CDs for your collection.] While it does contain Ruby Tuesday, Have You Seen Your Mother, Baby and Let’s Spend the Night Together, you will be getting those on other releases. The only real necessity here is the folky Sittin’ On A Fence.

19. 12x5 – unlike the Beatles, who were writing their own songs from the get go, Jagger and Richards didn’t start writing their own songs until 1964. So the early, early Stones records are mainly covers. While this can be good if you’re picking good material, some of the covers here leave something to be desired. Not so of their takes of Chuck Berry’s Around and Around and  Bobby and Shirley Woamck’s It’s All Over Now. [The version of Time Is On My Side here starts with the organ – and I hate that version.] Jagger and Richards come through here with the very under rated Good Times, Bad Times [not to be confused with the Led Zeppelin song with the same title]. The band jam [credited to Nanker Phelge and names in honor of the location of Chess Records studio] 2120 South Michigan Avenue is surprisingly funky for English white boys. Bill Wyman smokes on this track!

18. The Rolling Stones, Now! – again a lot of covers here. Stand outs include the 1940 boogie woogie number Down the Road Apiece and Willie Dixon’s Little Red Rooster [a long time favorite of mine]. Mick and Keith add Heart Of Stone and What A Shame but still a thin record.

17. It’s Only Rock And Roll – with Keith deep into addiction, the Micks [Jagger and Taylor] try to soldier on with decidedly mixed results. The funky Dance Little Sister and Fingerprint File are pretty good. The title track I’m tired of but it’s a good song. And Time Waits For No One is absolutely stunning, a great showpiece for Taylor’s guitar playing. Unfortunately, those are about the only highlights and lack of writing credit for his work led to Taylor exiting the band at the end of the year.

16. Aftermath – While this does contain three of my favorite tracks from this period, Stupid Girl, Lady Jane and Under My Thumb, the rest of this album just really does nothing for me.

15. Their Satanic Majesties Request – ah yes, the band’s acid tinged album. She’s A Rainbow, 2000 Light Years From Home and Citadel are great tracks. The Lantern is pretty good. But overall, yeah it’s pretty mediocre. Unless you like a lot of Mellotron.

14.  Out Of Our Heads – While the US version adds [I Can’t Get No] Satisfaction and The Last  Time and also contains the hilarious Under Assistant West Coast Promotion Man, the under rated Spider And the Fly and Play With Fire, the covers again slow this collection down.

13. Emotional Rescue – the Stones second album with Woody is an okay album. Despite how cringeworthy it is now, the title track was a top 5 US hit. But with songs like Down In the Hole, Let Me Go and She’s So Cold, it’s not terrible like say It’s Only Rock And Roll.

12. Goats Head Soup - while I have come to like this a little more over the last couple of years, coming off of the four albums before this, the Stones were due for a bit of a “coming down.” Angie is another song I’m tired of. It does have Doo Doo Doo Doo Doo (yes that’s the official title) [Heartbreaker], another great track for Mick Taylor in Winter, the fun Silver Train and the evil Dancing With Mr. D. Again, a good record, just not one I reach for a lot.

11. Black And Blue – While it holds a special place in my heart, being the first Stones record I was exposed to, this mishmash is what it is. I like Hot Stuff, Fool To Cry and Crazy Mama is a great little gem. But it’s the semi-autobiographical Memory Motel that’s the standout track on this album.

10. The Rolling Stones [aka England’s Newest Hit Makers] – the debut by the Stones is more memorable that the Beatles [Please Please Me]. Powered along by Muddy Waters’ I Just Want To Make Love To You and I’m A King Bee, Buddy Holly’s Not Fade Away, Nat King Cole’s Route 66 and Chuck Berry’s Carol.

9. Between the Buttons – London peeling off two tracks to add Let’s Spend the Night Together and Ruby Tuesday actually works to make this a better record than the UK version. A lot of tracks I dig like Yesterday’s Papers, Connection, My Obsession and Miss Amanda Jones.

8. December’s Children [And Everybody’s] – this collection of tracks released just in time for Christmas in 1965 compiles the single Get Off My Cloud and the rest of the UK version of Out Of Our Heads. It’s actually one of my favorites of the early period Rolling Stones.

7. Through the Past, Darkly [Big Hits, Vol. 2] – You’re going to need some Rolling Stones compilation to get the two great singles Jumpin’ Jack Flash and Honky Tonk Women [and the good Dandelion]. If you’re just a casual fan of the band, this record or Hot Rocks 1964 – 1971] will fit the bill.With Hot Rocks, you'll also get 19th Nervous Breakdown, a couple of cuts from Let It Bleed and Sticky Fingers and the positively smoking Get Your Ya Yas version of Midnight Rambler. But you're going to pay double CD prices.

6. Tattoo You – while this is a compilation of vault tracks from as far back as 1972 [Waiting On A Friend and Tops, with Mick Taylor on guitar, not Ron Wood] side 1 is a lineup of killer rockers, even if I could go a long time without hearing Start Me Up again. The 2002 CD version even restore about a minute and a half of the great groove tune Slave. Side 2 starters Worried About You and Tops are just okay, I always liked the sweeping tone on Heaven.

5. Beggar’s Banquet – a similarly critical turning point for the Stones as Rubber Soul was for the Beatles this album marks the beginning of a classic period of the Stones history. The Stones left pop and psychedelics completely behind and dug back into their roots in blues and country. It was the last album on which Brian Jones played a major contribution [notably sitar and tanpura on Street Fighting Man and the wonderful slide guitar part on No Expectations] and the first of a run of five with producer Jimmy Miller. While I could go a long, long time without hearing Sympathy For the Devil again, there’s a great pile of tracks I can enjoy: No Expectations, Parachute Woman, the extremely fun Jigsaw Puzzle, Street Fighting Man and  the low down Stray Cat Blues.

4. Some Girls – Ron Wood’s official debut as a full member of the band [though he was not made a full partner until 1990]. Some Girls is a great recovery from a band that had seemed in free fall for a couple of years. The songs are short and intensely focused thanks to Woody’s guitar style meshing with Keith’s into what Keith calls “the fine art of weaving.**” And the Stones finally redeem themselves for two previous bad covers of Tempations songs with Just My Imagination [Running Away With Me]. While one can argue whether certain songs are now played to death [Miss You] and how Jagger’s syrupy faux country voice on Far Away Eyes [And Dear Doctor. And Dead Flowers] gets old after a few hundred plays, it’s hard to argue with these 10 songs as one of the strongest Stones albums ever.

3. Exile On Main Street – while it was not well received in 1972, this double album has risen to become many people’s “best” Stones album. I am not one of those people. Still, hitting on 15-16 of 18 tracks is pretty damn good! This album runs the gamut of basic Stones rockers [All Down the Line, Soul Survivor] to country tinged [Sweet Virginia, one of my favorites, Torn And Frayed] to blues [Slim Harpo’s Shake Your Hips, Robert Johnson’s Stop Breaking Down] to gospel [Let It Loose, Shine A Light]. Also has two of the best songs the Stones ever laid to tape: Tumbling Dice and Keith’s lead spotlight song Happy.

2. Let It Bleed – from the opening notes of Gimme Shelter to the last strains of the London Bach Choir, this is perhaps the quintessential Stones album. It was my favorite and perhaps sits more of a 1-A [depending on the day] to Sticky Fingers. At times You Can’t Always Get What You Want seems bloated but you can’t argue with Gimme Shelter, Love In Vain, the under-rated Live With Me and Monkey Man.

1. Sticky Fingers – starting with Brown Sugar [did you know Mick wrote that while in Australia filming Ned Kelly?] and ending with the dreamy Moonlight Mile, this is just an amazing album. Wild Horses is just one of the most beautiful songs the band has ever done, the outro jam on Can’t You Hear Me Knocking, the hard driving riff and horns on Bitch, the Memphis inspired soul of I Got the Blues and Ry Cooder’s stinging slide work on Sister Morphine are all just jaw dropping even almost 50 years later. If you listen closely to the lyrics of Moonlight Mile, that’s about as personal as you’re gonna get from Mick.

* If you’re going to be an elitist completist, you’re going to have to get More Hot Rocks [Big Hits and Fazed Cookies] for about 10 songs and probably still wind up getting half a dozen other compilations to get one or two songs on each. If you’re THAT into the Stones, be my guest, it’s your money. However, for the ABKCO years you might consider the alternative of The Rolling Stones In Mono. Unfortunately it does duplicate some tracks by including both the US and UK versions of Out Of Our Heads and Aftermath and includes the US only album Flowers. But you’ll get everything ABKCO controls up after 2009, when several songs [notably Brown Sugar and Wild Horses] reverted back to the band. From personal experience, just like the Beatles catalog up through Rubber Soul, I find the Stones catalog in mono a little more satisfying than the sometimes weird stereo mixes [especially weird and uneven on Between the Buttons!].

** My Uncle J. Michael Leone, God rest his soul, used to tell me that Ron Wood was “absolutely the worst choice” the Stones could have made to replace Mick Taylor. In a way, I get that – Ron Wood as a lead guitar player is not in the same class as Mick Taylor. However, Mick Taylor was not the kind of guitar player who really “meshed” with Keith Richards. Coming from being the lead and rhythm guitarist for the Faces, Ronnie would just switch between the two as the song needed. I think that this wall of guitars where you don’t know who played what [and Keith says sometimes they don’t either] allowed him to move around the rhythm as well instead of being forced to anchor it at all times. SOME people have called Ron Wood a “Keith Clone.” My take on it is that Ron Wood can play like Keith but Keith can’t play like Ronnie.

Organizing My Thoughts After the Passing Of My Friend

When the messages start coming, phone calls from people you least expect, you absolutely fear something dreadful has happened. When I see my sister’s number or an uncle’s number appear at a time they should be aware I am working, the heart leaps into the throat and the muscles in the neck tighten in fear. Has something happened to Mom? Dad? Uncle Dickie? R.T.? Aunts’ uncles, cousins and so on…

The one message just said “Did you hear about Tracey?” It was enough. I have been around the block enough times and old enough to know what this means. At the age my friends are now, it’s going to rarely be “Tracey’s getting married!” or “Tracey won a million dollars in the lottery!”

This one hit me square in the heart.

One’s mind floods with memories once things sink in. One of my first memories of Tracey is this tough little skull capped, bearded biker looking dude who worked at the Husrt Sound Warehouse and he brought some CDs to the communal-ish apartment. I asked him about a Steely Dan song I had heard on the radio, he told me it was Show Biz Kids and it was on Countdown To Ecstasy. It was in that pile of CDs and I asked if I could borrow it for a couple of days to tape it. He said sure and take Katy Lied,too, “it’s a very similar record, you’ll like it.” Over the next decade or so over a million beers, many tacos and Chinese takeout dinners and games of Hearts, Spades and Sega NHL 93 I got to know Tracey very well. I would have considered him as a very good friend if not one of my best friends for that time period.

In the digital age, we don’t even get the courtesy of an equally sad friend calling and passing the bad news and allowing you to commiserate your disbelief and grief even for a few minutes. We are within minutes able to tell the world via text, Instant Message and social media. Within minutes we are able to post on the now passed person’s page out shock and grief not only with word but GIF and mixed media messages. Tracey himself said he didn’t want “all the responses this will garner in which people either offer solutions, personal anecdotes, or worse yet, digital hugs and I-love-yous,…” yet that is EXACTLY what has happened. We pour our love into a now empty place where our friend should be standing and say all of those things we probably didn’t say face to face like “You’re important to me. You’re a great friend and you bring a lot into my life and I am grateful for that. I love you, man.” Yet somehow, for all of the ways we have to stay connected, my friend felt cut off from the herd, disconnected from the hive. Kinda sort of.

I’m not the first nor will I be that last to suggest that for all of our instant communication, we are connecting less. We do have a need to be social and our pre-digitally wired brains deem that we need to see people in person, touch people, and breathe the same air… I truly don’t know if Tracey had a group of friends with whom he regularly or even irregularly met to blow off steam and bond with. It would be incredibly sad if he didn’t because he could carry on a conversation about the Parliament/Funkadelic Empire of George Clinton or Greek Philosophers or anything in between. He was one of those people who was incredibly smart but who never held it over people [as I have been known to].

Still, friendships are a two way street. We all have those people with whom it seems like we do all of the reaching out to, sometimes met with great cheer, sometimes with blank nothingness. Some of these people get completely left behind, some reside in our Facebook friends profiles but don’t hit our feeds because they never post or posted so much bullshit you had to unfollow them for your sanity. [People who post a ton of political things fall into this category for me.] But some people just don’t initiate contact for whatever reason. . Tracey was easy to find at Forever Young and even if I didn’t buy anything, I could and did touch base with him. But I hadn’t physically crossed paths with Tracey in ten years or maybe more. Once he moved out to Murphy it seemed that he refused to come near the Tarrant / Dallas county line anymore. Or never announced it anyway: “Hey Tarrant County friends, crossing that line, let’s meet for a beer or something.” After he moved, I would only see what he posted on the Facebook, once in a while I would ask a detailed question but I wouldn’t say we spoke much. But I was happy for him having straightened his life out and completed school and becoming a semi-productive member of society. In 1990, 1995 or 2000 that didn’t seem likely or possible.

The saddest thing is that Tracey felt that he was at a dead end and instead of turning around and trying to find the exit, he gave up. Maybe he did try reaching out and was rebuffed or blown off. I suspect his pride would not allow him to make such a call though. He had always viewed the world through George Carlin’s mixture of skepticism, wariness, and sarcasm. In the end, the cancer of disgust, despair and defeat won out. And the world – not the at large world but the world of those of us who knew and loved him – is a sadder place.

As Lester Bangs used to say; “So long, baby and Amen.”

*****

We had a "Celebration Of Life" about a month after I originally wrote that. Such affairs are not ever truly happy times but it was nice to reconnect with some folks that hadn't been seen together for a long, long, LONG time.Between friends we had all collectively lost touch with Tracey. We attribute this to moving through the different stages of out lives with work, family, etc. But as I noted, friendship is a two way street.

One morning between the john and the coffee pot [i.e. before I was fully awake], I had the epiphany that "Each second is a choice - the choice to keep breathing or not."

If you choose to stop breathing, then nothing else matters

Personally, I have never had the serious urge to stop breathing before my natural time is done. Yes, I've muttered Well fuck you I'll just kill myself and then you'll all be sorry. But that's sadness, anger and frustration. My friend chose to stop breathing. 

This is not the same as my "Uncles" who burned out their livers with years of poor lifestyle choices. This is not all of thosae "possible side effects could include" that slowly eroded Uncle Rich. It's not the horrible accident that killed my friends Henry and Heather.

My friend chose to stop breathing.

And that's the part that we're all having ahard time with.

Mojo - A Memorial

Sometime about 9 years ago, my mother called me about getting a pet. It seems she had found two kittens, an all black boy and a calico girl in a tree by her house and now that I was in a house, she thought I needed a friend, er pet. While they were both beautiful kittens and I briefly considered bringing both home, the chaos of having small two kittens in the house was a bit overwhelming. [When Shadow adopted us, joined our little home I found out I was right – being the caretaker of two cats can be trying.] So I took the boy. 

His full name was Mister Mojo Risin’ – obvious reference. It also alludes to Muddy Waters old song. I would have two of the ingredients for a his spell in one: black cat bone and a ‘Mojo’ tooth. But of course pets acquire nicknames – pet names, right? – because of their personality and traits. Mojo was also of course Mr. Mojo. Being shorthaired he became Fuzz, Mr. Fuzz and Fuzzy Fuzzbutt. When he looked regal laying on his sun perch in the laundry he took on Mr. Handome. And Handsome Handsome. I don’t know where I got or started putting the words ‘goof’ and ‘bean’ together but if he was being silly, he was ‘being a goofbean.’

He was ‘fixed.’ I wanted him to be an indoor cat exclusively. But I started letting him wander the yard so he could eat some grass and get some fresh air. The FIRST time he walked across my very busy street – even though it was dark and calm, my heart was in my throat. But he was smaller and faster thanm me and just kept wandering up the neighbor’s yard… 

Through eight years, Mojo was my buddy. Yes, he developed an annoying habit of clawing the box spring and leaping onto the bed – usually several times – just as I was falling asleep at night. But he also lay in my lap and let me pet him while I quietly cried at the end of It’s A Wonderful Life.  He tolerated most of what I played musically – Soundgarden usually chased him out to one of the four corners of the house. 

Yesterday I came home early and it was so gorgeous outside I opened the doors and some windows so the cats had free reign. Shadow came in again about 8 but Mojo was nowhere to be seen. 10:30, 11:00, 11:30, midnight, 12:05, 12:10, 12:15, 12:30, 1:00… 1:30… 3:00…4:00… I last checked both doors about 4:30 as I was having trouble sleeping.

This morning, the dread truth.

I live on a very busy street. Not one of the busy arteries, not a major major thoroughfare but a very busy secondary street. And people fly much faster than the posted 30 MPH speed limit. At 30, you’re going 44 feet per second. At 35, 51, at 40 it’s almost 59. Maybe someone yawned as they set out for work. Maybe turned their eyes to change the radio or pick up their coffee cup. Seeing a black cat on a blacktop road at night can be tough even if you’re looking. Maybe it was dawn and the sun had just burst into their eyes over the tree tops and they were flipping the visor down. Maybe they even saw him but travelling at so many feet per second…

My hope is that this was just an accident. I don’t wish the guilt on anyone. I have driven county roads late at night and once heard the thud of bone on metal as a dog chasing my car… It’s a sickening feeling. I try not to hit squirrels but I have seen lots of squirrels, possums, raccoons and pets in or by the road. It is a fact of life. 

That doesn’t subdue the first moments of agony and grief though.

People are funny with their pets. I know I’m not the only one who made rounds at night, locking doors, petting their furry buddies, telling them goodnight and that they love them. The fact that this was inevitable does little to ease today’s pain. 

You deserved longer life, more naps in my lap on chilly Sundays, more nights waking me up just to be petted. You deserved to just fall asleep one day on the bed and just not wake. But it was not to be.

I hope that this was mercifully fast and relatively painless, that you in fact never knew what hit you. I feel you will join the ‘other’ ghost cat here who catches the corner of my eye deep in the night and who pulls down towels off the shower curtain rod.

I will get past this as I usually do. Channeling my feelings into words and pulling myself up by me sneaker strings and doing what I must. But it’s going to be weird for a few weeks.

Thank you for being my buddy. And Shadow’s mentor and ‘older brother.’ We will miss you.

Addenda: Shadow got his name not because he is also a black cat but because he followed one step behind Mojo [once he came out from under the bed] for weeks once he moved in – literally, in his shadow.

   I woke up slightly disoriented but also greatly relieved. And tired. More tired than I had been when I had laid down.

   In that twilight I had been thinking of a lady. Longing from a distance and crushing on people is easy. You have only the lust and desire to be “with” them but nothing real world like job stress, aging parents and children, money woes and/or body breakdowns intrudes on the fantasy.

   The second half [or second or third dream, who cal tell?] involved one of those people I lusted and desired. But the fact was that drama surrounded her like the dust cloud around Pigpen or the raincloud over “Bad Luck” Schleprock on the old Pebbles and Bam-Bam cartoons. In the dream we had wed one day, then overnight she had disappeared and now everyone was looking for her and her friend who had run off with her kids in the middle of the night. I was smoking [I don’t other than an occasional drag]and unsuccessfully trying to dial a rotary phone to call into work and wondering how to explain this to them. SHE showed up but explained her friend’s decision to take off and why they couldn’t show pictures of the kids without one of the parent’s consent… then we had to leave our little apartment but I had to leave my bass guitar behind… ?

   How had I gotten here in my dream? I had earlier been dreaming of an ex with whom I shared a dossier of information I had gathered about her and then dumped a print out – as in one of those old style computer printout sheets with the white and green lines, holes on the side, perforation, etc. about how our lives together were going to be for the next ten years. And reviewing a tape of a jam we had [not really] at a party at one of my friend’s apartments with me on rolled up newspaper for drums, banging them on the floor. I wondered how the downstairs neighbor could stand that but remembered that he had been upstairs partying with us.

   The other funny thing about dreams is how people who never crossed paths in real life can mingle together in your dream. I’m 99.9% sure that the ex in this part of the dream had never met Henry in real life, yet here we were in Jim’s tiny, raucous, rocking apartment. The work I had been trying to call was my place of employ from 1991 to 1997 but in my thoughts in my dream it was the original divided building, not the later expanded workshop.

   I got out of bed top take a squirt and get a sip of water. Shadow must have sensed my unease because as I exited the powder room, he came up and rubbed against my legs as if trying to say “it’s okay dude.” I tried laying down again and he jumped up and lay down by my feet to sit with my but my mind was too tilt-a-whirl to go back to sleep.  I got up, loaded the dishwasher [might as well ‘accomplish’ something!] and turned it on and jotted down some notes. It’s 06:00 – “What’s the ‘O’ stand for? ‘Oh my God it’s early!’” – and still as dark as it was when I left work and when I went to bed after watching YET ANOTHER JFK theory show.

   Look, I am not a conspiracy nut but l realized the date on the way home and had just been thing that it’s been more than half a century – long after most the participants and witnesses are dead – that we don’t really know who blew Kennedy’s wig or why.

   This time, the Secret Service accidentally popped him with an AR-15 from the chase car and covered it up. First, by threatening the Medical Examiner andrushing the body out of Texas – where the law was any homicide required an autopsy before releasing the body. Then they stole… er, secured all the notes, photos, x-rays from the hilariously overcrowded [FBI, Secret Service and reps from the three other branches of the service!] Keystone Cops level contaminated Bethesda attempt at autopsy. Then threatening anyone and everyone involved with a “breech of national security” charge and jail time if the talked. And of course old Arlen Spector gets skewed for not calling any of the Secret Service or Bethesda pathologists who could say “This wound was too small for the 6.5mm bullet. The third and fatal shot was from back left from a low caliber, frangible [meant to fragment for maximum damage] bullet” – i.e. the .223 AR-15 the Secret Service had in that chase car. [There are photos of an agent holding it as they raced off to Parkland.]  It seems people in cars following the Prez  - like the mayor and his old lady and some Congressmen  -and on the ground in Dealey smelled gunpowder – which according to the show, would have blown UP Elm Street from in front of them.  One witness drawled “you don’t smell gunpowder unless it’s blown in your face,” suggesting the waft would not have been from Oswald’s perch above everyone.

   Sometimes it’s exhausting being in my head.

Disco

One of the other subjects discussed in Twilight Of the Gods is Disco Sucks! Night at old Comiskey Park in Chicago. [Read about it here]. Saturday Night Fever had thrust dance music into the popular culture and white bread America tried to dance again and to dance one has to have dance records. One dances at a discothèque, so dance music of this style became “Disco.”

 

“Disco” became a dirty word when it became synonymous with “popular culture.” The hatred of “disco” for most people was not about racism other than the fact that a lot of minorities [blacks, Latinos] were now getting played on the radio. The “hate” was about the supposed sameness of the beat and how one could not escape that beat… for a couple of years anyway. 

 

For me, I think the dislike stems from the fact that I can’t dance - more likely, I don’t because I’m afraid of looking foolish. I suspect that this is why a lot of rockers hated dance music.

 

Some of the hatred of Disco comes out of the fact that for a couple of years, “Rock” seemed to disappear from the radio. I’m sure even Robin, Maurice and Barry Gibb got sick of hearing themselves every third song on the radio, even though their accountant didn’t. But I say seems to have disappeared for a reason. The top selling singles of 1978 includes artists like the Rolling Stones [although it is the disco-ish Miss You], Queen, Eric Clapton, Wings, the Sweet, Meat Loaf, Foreigner, Kansas, Bob Seger, Styx, ELO, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Bob Welch, Boston and Steely Dan.

 

In those years, I claimed that I didn’t like “black” music, but a few years later I recanted. I had always heard and enjoyed black artists. My mother was an original Motown soul freak! She brought artists I adore into the house – the Ohio Players, Marvin Gaye, the Four Tops, the Temptations, Smokey Robinson. She brought in Donna Summer, Diana Ross, Earth, Wind & Fire. I still don’t know why we never had any Al Green albums but we didn’t. The AM radio I grew up on freely mixed Alice Cooper, Al Green, Jerry Reed, the Jacksons, Paul McCartney & Wings, Leo Sayer, Manfred Mann’s Earth Band… but I hated disco and some of those records still turn me off. On the other hand, I do have the Bee Gees, KC & the Sunshine Band, Parliament, Raydio, EWF, Barry White and Teddy Pendergrass in my collection. They play music that can be danced to and got played in discos but I have returned to them for the groove of their music.

 

Barry White’s It’s Ecstasy When You Lay Down Next To Me for example has a beat and groove so insistent it can NOT be ignored. I like listening how he arranges and builds the song. Kicking off with just a simple beat – kick drum and bass, piano chords on the beat to establish a foundation. Then guitar flourishes – not lines, just chords to get your attention – and the strings swell up to set the melody line. The snare and Barry don not even enter the song until the 1:15 mark [of the album version]. The strings swirl round behind Barry then the horns come up and punctuate and accentuate and Barry’s smooth foghorn whisper just holds it right in the center. It's a master class in building a song. It’s the same thing Isaac Hayes does on Part Time Love or Theme From Shaft. Yet Isaac Hayes is revered great soul artist and Barry White is a punch line. Do I want the full six and a half minutes of Barry? Not every time, even though I will groove through all for 8 and a half minutes of Part Time Love every damn time.

 

Am I likely to ever embrace what was once known as “Disco?” Parts of it. I can admire the Bee Gees harmonies, I can admire the Latin tinged grooves of Harry Wayne Casey [KC] & the Sunshine Band, once in a while I can sing along with Funkytown... Let’s just say it’s as unlikely as me ever buying the Yes collection.

Deep Ellum On A Wednesday Night

Rock and roll is no longer polluted with cigarette smoke. 

Of course I have been to shows with the outdoor smoking corral at arenas and venues but I really noticed it Wednesday night at Three Links. Considering that the bans on smoking are down to smoking in the privacy of one’s own bathroom [with the fan on!], this really shouldn’t surprise me. But I very, very rarely venture out to bars or shows anymore.

Jesse Malin is out on tour and made a rare stop in Dallas at this relatively tiny place. Considering it’s an almost unknown artist , it’s Wednesday night and the [basketball] Mavs are opening the season over at the big, big arena and the World Series is on featuring the Astros [not the local team but Texans will cheer for almost anything Texas related], it’s a tough draw but more than a few of us lingered about. 

Brother N8 turned me on to Jesse by handing me 2010’s Love It To Life.  Short catchy songs mixed with slower numbers and it flowed together so well that I could and did play it on repeat on longer, slower shifts at work. I jumped on 2015’s New York Before the War and loved it almost as much. 

Walking through the crisp October night through the far east side of Deep Ellum past old haunts with new names, a couple of them boarded up {Clearview] or closed for the evening [Trees] leaving a notably dark hole in the forest of neon and LEDs. But somehow Dada still hangs on, one of the last surviving rooms from another century.  Somewhere in the pavement there are ghosts of many, many fun [but in retrospect really stupid] nights hopped up on [mostly] beer, [occasionally] white crosses and youth. 

There was one young lady who never stopped moving while the music played. She never stopped hopping, bopping, twisting, jiving, etc. I thought she has a small backpack with a design but I never got a good look. At one point she had to take off her glasses but throughout the whole night she carried a three quarters empty glass of something in her right hand. She moved so that it never spilled which was amusing because at one point she was swaying, holding her drink and trying to take a photo with her phone all at the same time. And since there was no smoke, occasionally I would get a waft of her perfume [or her Teen Spirit, ha ha]. Watching her moving and having a time almost made this overweight, grey haired spectacled fool hop and bop as well. 

As for Malin and his band, they came out and played a dynamic mix of old school rock and roll, Malin’s wistful ballads, Otis Redding soul [She Don’t Love Me Now, which found Malin up on the bar at one point] and a cover of the Clash’s Rudie Can’t Fail. He dropped in a story about being on stage at Shane MacGowan’s 60^th birthday celebration [between Bono, Johnny Depp and Nick Cave and becoming the bearer of Shane’s Lifetime Achievement trophy], looked back at friends, family and others who passed over the last year and escaping the winter blues in L.A. led him to record his new record. 

Walking back to the car, we reflected how a last minute decision to go to the show has been a great decision [I had found out only two days before]. Dealing with Dallas’s traffic, funky freeways and trying to find legal parking space in Deep Ellum had been worth it for the 80-90 minutes of Malin recharging our rock and roll batteries again. 

And New York Before the War [which Malin played a lot of] has been in my CD player ever since.