We Love You Madly!
I feel like I should apologize to you, dear reader--not to mention The Psychedelic Eskimo--for my unwillingness to let go of the Gene Clark topic, but I wanted to mention one more thing. If you are seeking out a collection of his Byrds work, Raven has put a CD compilation of his work from 1964-1973 (there was an ill-fated Byrds reunion that year) called Gene Clark in the Byrds. In my Clarkian madness I thought about buying it at Amoeba the other day, even though I have almost all that material on various discs. I would be intrigued to hear his cover of Neil Young's "Cowgirl in the Sand"...
Okay, on to other things. From Gene Clark to Johnny Clarke. I played a couple of his CDs over the past few days: Dreader Dread (a comp on the Blood & Fire label) and Authorised Rockers (a collection of two of his Virgin records). As the titles might indicate, Johnny Clarke is a reggae singer. After Dennis Brown and Gregory Isaacs, Clarke was the most popular Dancehall singer in Jamaica. He had a sweet, soulful voice, although not as distinctive as Brown and Isaacs. His material is pretty good, although of the fairly standard Rasta platitudinal variety. The strength of these recordings, especially the Blood & Fire comp (sounding great as all their releases do), are the tough riddims of producer Bunny Lee and Clarke's ability as an interpreter of other's songs--specifically Peter Tosh's "I'm the Toughest" and Bob Marley's "Time Will Tell."
My commute CD for today was the Clash's first release--the UK version. As I mentioned when I played the American vinyl version which has different sequencing and classic singles like "Complete Control" and "White Man in Hammersmith Palais," I prefer that release (Although the UK version does have "Deny," which is a pretty cool song). Listening to "Remote Control"--featured on both versions--reminds me of a dream I had many years ago when I was unhappily married. It took place right around the time Kurt Cobain killed himself. I wasn't a big Cobain fan but I dreamed that he and a sort of all star group of Grunge rockers were recording a song in a studio for a charity We Are The World type of thing. My dream was framed like a making-of-the-song documentary. The song the group sang was "Remote Control. I probably hadn't heard it in over a decade at that point. I woke up with the word "Repression!"--the chant/refrain that is repeated at the end of the song--in my brain. After that, I knew that my subconscious wasn't going to let me rest until I got divorced. Nice musical memory, huh?
My Duke Ellington progress has been slow on vinyl. I intended to listen to a three-record set devoted to a 1943 Ellington band performance at Carnegie Hall. It includes Duke's premier performance of his extended work, Black, Brown and Beige. However, when I took the records out of the jacket, I remembered the sad truth: the discs are all warped. I recall buying this record in the midst of a hot Ellington obsession and I carelessly didn't check the condition of the discs. Also, a pretty unscrupulous move by a Haight Street record seller--who is no longer in business, by the way.
I had better luck with a two-disc set devoted to the 1947 version of Duke's orchestra, also performing at Carnegie Hall. This record finds the band about to make a transition from the old-timers like Johnny Hodges, Lawrence Brown and Sonny Greer to the youngblood modernists like Paul Gonsalves, Clark Terry, and Louis Bellson. Anyway this record has a hodgepodge of stuff from an extended piece called the Liberian Suite to a Johnny Hodges medley and a Theme Medley of the real old-time Ellington Orchestra numbers. The surreal vocalist Al Hibbler is featured on one of the Liberian Suite numbers. As always, Duke is a deep, rich pianist and a classy and amiable MC. I suppose I could spend a year just studying Ellington music.
Okay, on to other things. From Gene Clark to Johnny Clarke. I played a couple of his CDs over the past few days: Dreader Dread (a comp on the Blood & Fire label) and Authorised Rockers (a collection of two of his Virgin records). As the titles might indicate, Johnny Clarke is a reggae singer. After Dennis Brown and Gregory Isaacs, Clarke was the most popular Dancehall singer in Jamaica. He had a sweet, soulful voice, although not as distinctive as Brown and Isaacs. His material is pretty good, although of the fairly standard Rasta platitudinal variety. The strength of these recordings, especially the Blood & Fire comp (sounding great as all their releases do), are the tough riddims of producer Bunny Lee and Clarke's ability as an interpreter of other's songs--specifically Peter Tosh's "I'm the Toughest" and Bob Marley's "Time Will Tell."
My commute CD for today was the Clash's first release--the UK version. As I mentioned when I played the American vinyl version which has different sequencing and classic singles like "Complete Control" and "White Man in Hammersmith Palais," I prefer that release (Although the UK version does have "Deny," which is a pretty cool song). Listening to "Remote Control"--featured on both versions--reminds me of a dream I had many years ago when I was unhappily married. It took place right around the time Kurt Cobain killed himself. I wasn't a big Cobain fan but I dreamed that he and a sort of all star group of Grunge rockers were recording a song in a studio for a charity We Are The World type of thing. My dream was framed like a making-of-the-song documentary. The song the group sang was "Remote Control. I probably hadn't heard it in over a decade at that point. I woke up with the word "Repression!"--the chant/refrain that is repeated at the end of the song--in my brain. After that, I knew that my subconscious wasn't going to let me rest until I got divorced. Nice musical memory, huh?
My Duke Ellington progress has been slow on vinyl. I intended to listen to a three-record set devoted to a 1943 Ellington band performance at Carnegie Hall. It includes Duke's premier performance of his extended work, Black, Brown and Beige. However, when I took the records out of the jacket, I remembered the sad truth: the discs are all warped. I recall buying this record in the midst of a hot Ellington obsession and I carelessly didn't check the condition of the discs. Also, a pretty unscrupulous move by a Haight Street record seller--who is no longer in business, by the way.
I had better luck with a two-disc set devoted to the 1947 version of Duke's orchestra, also performing at Carnegie Hall. This record finds the band about to make a transition from the old-timers like Johnny Hodges, Lawrence Brown and Sonny Greer to the youngblood modernists like Paul Gonsalves, Clark Terry, and Louis Bellson. Anyway this record has a hodgepodge of stuff from an extended piece called the Liberian Suite to a Johnny Hodges medley and a Theme Medley of the real old-time Ellington Orchestra numbers. The surreal vocalist Al Hibbler is featured on one of the Liberian Suite numbers. As always, Duke is a deep, rich pianist and a classy and amiable MC. I suppose I could spend a year just studying Ellington music.
posted by ken at 8:17 PM
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