Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate The Positive
Ladies and Gents, The International Week of Rock has ended. And it only took half a week. We could tell you that the American Fiery Furnaces were okay at The Great American Music Hall. How the sound was muddy (do loud bands ever sound good there?), and your correspondent did not feel that they added anything to what we saw from them last year at The Bottom of the Hill. Yes, the endless medley. We get it. We've liked all their releases and eagerly await to see what they come up with next, but we're a little burned out on them. Their drummer is pretty entertaining to watch, though.
Your correspondent could also talk about last night's performance by Canadians Sloan at Slim's. Slim's always a problematic place. Your boy has seen some good shows there, despite the lousy neighborhood, so-so sound, and those dumb poles that obscure the view from certain parts of the floor. We love Sloan here at the Blue Ark, but felt pretty ignorant compared to the thirty or so superfans clustered at the front of the stage singing along to every obscure song (the band is touring to promote a "greatest hits"--in Canada, eh?-- release). Sloan wanted to rock, and that inevitably means "wall of noise" at Slims. It seemed to take half the show before the feedback (unintentional, we're not talking about Sonic Youth here) and vocal mike drop-outs were sorted out. A fun show, but the Psychedelic Eskimo and I were exhausted, sweaty and sore, and left before the encore. We were sore and exhausted because...
Monday night, following International Worker's Day, we saw the best show of the year (if not several years). Britain's Gang of Four at The Fillmore. I've only been waiting the better part of twenty five years to see these guys (the original quartet, that is). You never know what to expect with these things. I'd seen a good precedent a few years ago with the reformed Soft Boys, but still...Fingers crossed. You figure it's not a cynical reforming for the money (although I'm sure they weren't saying no to that) like The Sex Pistols. Why tarnish the intense memory of the band if you're not 100% committed? So, imagine the joy I felt when these decidedly middle-aged dudes walked out on stage and hammered away with great intensity for nearly an hour and a half. That includes the set and two encores. No messing about. Just a ferocious attack. Singer Jon King running around on stage, singing into all three vocal mikes, staring defiantly at the crowd. Guitarist Andy Gill stabbing at his guitar, occasionally charging at bassist Dave Allen (if you ask me, D.A.'s the secret weapon of the band). The steady tub thumping of delightfully tubby drummer Hugo Burnham. You wonder, what "Post Punk" band had a funkier rhythm section? Who had a more savage/creative guitarist or intense singer? Despite the intensity, the band seemed to be having a great time, even embracing at points, as if to say, "Can you believe how good this is?" Well worth the quarter century wait.
If you're still with me, you can see why I haven't gotten much alphabetical listening done over the past few days. Just two things, actually. First up, Rodney Crowell's The Houston Kid on CD.
A brave, moving, semi-autobiographical recording from 2001. After his parents passed away, Rodney decided to examine both the horror and joy of his Houston upbringing. The two most devastating songs are "Rock of My Soul" and "Topsy Turvy"--semi-fictionalized accounts of his father's physical abuse of his mother. When I saw him perform these songs at Foley's, here in S.F., Rodney said that his parents had found peace with each other before they died, but it sure sounds frightening on the record. It's not all that grim. There's a nice tribute to Johnny Cash called "I Walk the Line (Revisited)," featuring a guest vocal from Johnny himself. Also, a quite moving song about a Houston-bred, L.A.-residing gay street hustler with AIDS called "I Wish It Would Rain" (a kid that Rodney knew from back home). Not the usual song you see on a country music record, that's for sure. Other good stuff, too. A real influence on my autobiographical 'zines.
Finally, let's do Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate The Positive with Ella Fitzgerald sings The Harold Arlen Songbook. Arranged and Conducted by Billy May, this is (outside of the Ellington) the jazziest of the Songbook recordings. Although I said I love the Gershwin Songbook best, this may be my favorite. A perfect spring day listen. Ella is really at home with these breezy, sometimes sad, melodies. You gotta hear her do "Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead"before you die. Swinging arrangements, and some nice solos from Benny Carter, Plas Johnson And Ted Nash. "Let's Fall in Love" makes the process actually sound like a good idea! Also, in the version of the album (two-record set) that I have--it's a 1984 reissue--informative liner notes/appreciation of Harold Arlen by Gary Shivers. It's interesting to learn that Arlen was the son of a synagogue cantor, a man who was proud of his son's musical achievements, and actually recorded some vocals to his boy's melodies. Kind of the reverse of The Jazz Singer! Who wouldn't be proud that their kid wrote such great melodies such as "Stormy Weather"; "It's Only a Paper Moon"; "Out of This World"; "Ill Wind" and so on...
Your correspondent could also talk about last night's performance by Canadians Sloan at Slim's. Slim's always a problematic place. Your boy has seen some good shows there, despite the lousy neighborhood, so-so sound, and those dumb poles that obscure the view from certain parts of the floor. We love Sloan here at the Blue Ark, but felt pretty ignorant compared to the thirty or so superfans clustered at the front of the stage singing along to every obscure song (the band is touring to promote a "greatest hits"--in Canada, eh?-- release). Sloan wanted to rock, and that inevitably means "wall of noise" at Slims. It seemed to take half the show before the feedback (unintentional, we're not talking about Sonic Youth here) and vocal mike drop-outs were sorted out. A fun show, but the Psychedelic Eskimo and I were exhausted, sweaty and sore, and left before the encore. We were sore and exhausted because...
Monday night, following International Worker's Day, we saw the best show of the year (if not several years). Britain's Gang of Four at The Fillmore. I've only been waiting the better part of twenty five years to see these guys (the original quartet, that is). You never know what to expect with these things. I'd seen a good precedent a few years ago with the reformed Soft Boys, but still...Fingers crossed. You figure it's not a cynical reforming for the money (although I'm sure they weren't saying no to that) like The Sex Pistols. Why tarnish the intense memory of the band if you're not 100% committed? So, imagine the joy I felt when these decidedly middle-aged dudes walked out on stage and hammered away with great intensity for nearly an hour and a half. That includes the set and two encores. No messing about. Just a ferocious attack. Singer Jon King running around on stage, singing into all three vocal mikes, staring defiantly at the crowd. Guitarist Andy Gill stabbing at his guitar, occasionally charging at bassist Dave Allen (if you ask me, D.A.'s the secret weapon of the band). The steady tub thumping of delightfully tubby drummer Hugo Burnham. You wonder, what "Post Punk" band had a funkier rhythm section? Who had a more savage/creative guitarist or intense singer? Despite the intensity, the band seemed to be having a great time, even embracing at points, as if to say, "Can you believe how good this is?" Well worth the quarter century wait.
If you're still with me, you can see why I haven't gotten much alphabetical listening done over the past few days. Just two things, actually. First up, Rodney Crowell's The Houston Kid on CD.
A brave, moving, semi-autobiographical recording from 2001. After his parents passed away, Rodney decided to examine both the horror and joy of his Houston upbringing. The two most devastating songs are "Rock of My Soul" and "Topsy Turvy"--semi-fictionalized accounts of his father's physical abuse of his mother. When I saw him perform these songs at Foley's, here in S.F., Rodney said that his parents had found peace with each other before they died, but it sure sounds frightening on the record. It's not all that grim. There's a nice tribute to Johnny Cash called "I Walk the Line (Revisited)," featuring a guest vocal from Johnny himself. Also, a quite moving song about a Houston-bred, L.A.-residing gay street hustler with AIDS called "I Wish It Would Rain" (a kid that Rodney knew from back home). Not the usual song you see on a country music record, that's for sure. Other good stuff, too. A real influence on my autobiographical 'zines.
Finally, let's do Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate The Positive with Ella Fitzgerald sings The Harold Arlen Songbook. Arranged and Conducted by Billy May, this is (outside of the Ellington) the jazziest of the Songbook recordings. Although I said I love the Gershwin Songbook best, this may be my favorite. A perfect spring day listen. Ella is really at home with these breezy, sometimes sad, melodies. You gotta hear her do "Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead"before you die. Swinging arrangements, and some nice solos from Benny Carter, Plas Johnson And Ted Nash. "Let's Fall in Love" makes the process actually sound like a good idea! Also, in the version of the album (two-record set) that I have--it's a 1984 reissue--informative liner notes/appreciation of Harold Arlen by Gary Shivers. It's interesting to learn that Arlen was the son of a synagogue cantor, a man who was proud of his son's musical achievements, and actually recorded some vocals to his boy's melodies. Kind of the reverse of The Jazz Singer! Who wouldn't be proud that their kid wrote such great melodies such as "Stormy Weather"; "It's Only a Paper Moon"; "Out of This World"; "Ill Wind" and so on...
posted by ken at 12:37 PM
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