Archive for May, 2020

22
May
20

Albert Hammond “It Never Rains in Southern California”

The first two songs really remind me of some old Cat Stevens songs, and there’s nothing wrong with that—it’s just that I haven’t been able to listen to a few of those songs since they were playing all the time at at job I had in 1982. No fault of either of these guys. The third song reminds me of a Mott the Hoople song, at least the beginning of it—so I like that better—and the line: “California tastes so good/like coffee should/I can’t put it down” speaks to me. The next one is a corny folk-rock song that I find a little annoying. The last song then, starts out: “Anyone here in the audience/with a pad that I can crash in?” It’s a begging song!—from the perspective of the “poor musician.” First verse asking for shelter, second for food, and third for love—though it’s hard to be sure if that means “love” or merely sex. I’m going to go out on a limb and assume he’s asking for a place crash, something to eat, maybe some booze or drugs, hot sex, and true love. I mean, if you’re putting it in a song, why not? If you get half of that, it was worth it.

On the other side, then, is the hit, the title song. So, this is another song that brings back eating cereal at the breakfast table before school, this would be Junior High or so. I had no idea Albert Hammond is who was responsible for another of these 1973, Ohio, AM radio, 7:30 a.m. flashbacks. Plus, I never had any idea what it means: “It never rains in Southern California… but it pours.” Offhand, I’d say it means it’s always sunny, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have a broken heart—but I’m not even sure, because there’s a part about not getting enough to eat, again. Then there’s a song called “Names, Tags, Numbers & Labels” which is about exactly that. Then “Down by the River,” which is not the Neil Young song from a few years earlier. This one is jaunty (sounds kind of like Tommy Roe) but I suppose that’s ironic because the lyrics are actually pretty grim—it’s an environmentalist song, and doesn’t paint a pretty picture. The next song is kind of beautiful, but lyrically grim, again—I’m not sure if it’s about a relationship, or general problems with being a person, or maybe trying to cover both at the same time. The last song is quiet and melancholy, nice—it sounds a bit like a Beatles song that slipped out the back door. Overall, I feel like this is an impressive work, even as dated as some of it is, and there’s some fine musicians playing, and I like that I could spend more time trying to figure where he’s coming from on some of the songs, but for whatever reason, I find some of it unbearable. I’m sure this is someone’s favorite record of all time, and I don’t mean to say you’re wrong—it’s just that it’s simultaneously too weird and not weird enough for me, if that makes any sense.

I knew nothing about Albert Hammond, so I thought this record would fill in a bit of that missing part of my past—and it does a good job of that. It’s got one of those covers that annoyingly opens sideways, so that you can tack it vertically to your wall—just in case you want a tall, black and white photo if this good-looking, kind of hairy, guy with his shirt open, a small medallion, and leather pants that just keep going. So the internet tells me he’s from England and this was like his first record, hadn’t had a big hit at the time they recorded it, so some of these laments about being a hungry musician very well might be literal (and if you want to take it metaphorically—about love—aren’t we all). He’s only in his seventies now, and still out there playing, sounds like, at press time. He recorded a lot of records, wrote a lot of songs, and I’m sure has fans all over the world. I’m glad I could finally shine some light on this missing piece of the big puzzle. What you’ll find, I think, is generally—if you keep looking—is that you (meaning all of us) don’t know half of about 99.9% of the world. Old records are out there, and they’re for you.

09
May
20

Richard Harris “A Tramp Shining”

Even though “MacArthur Park” is Richard Harris’ most well-known song, I’ve heard this album less than his other ones, for some reason. I guess this was his first solo album. I’m not sure how he and Jimmy Webb got together—I’m sure Jimmy Webb’s version is in his memoir, which I’d like to read sometime. It’s no surprise that all of these songs are really catchy, quite romantic, and a little corny. I mean corny in the best way—or at least in the way I like. I know this kind of somewhat overblown, baroque, romantic, pop song is a bit much for some people, but you’ve just got to let it wash over you. If you allow it to, this music can really fill some missing part of whatever might be missing, for you. I don’t know who I’m talking to, here—any fans of this stuff know what I’m talking about—though I’m guessing almost everyone I know resists it. There are little “interludes” between a lot of the songs, which is a nice touch. Pretty much all of the songs, maybe all, have some heavy-duty string arrangements, and there are also some first rate LA studio musicians playing. I’m a huge fan of Jimmy Webb’s songwriting—so that’s primarily where it’s at, for me. And then, it’s Richard Harris’ singing—his super-dramatic style, that pretty much takes it over the top, and then some.

Like the rest of the Richard Harris records, I’m going to include this as a regular listening one—and I’m sure in time I’ll develop some favorites among some of these songs, though they’re all good. Right now, I’ll say, “If You Must Leave My Life” is right up there. “MacArthur Park,” though, really is a masterpiece. There are two types of people in the world, those who think it’s a masterpiece, and those who can’t stand that song (and while I respect your opinion, I wildly disagree). If you haven’t heard it in awhile, your memory of it might be that it’s like 20 minutes long, but at just over seven minutes, it’s incredibly economical, in that there are four distinct parts to. It really is kind of amazing. I guess one thing that does bother people is that they have no idea what the crucial part of the lyric means: “Someone left the cake out in the rain.” The confusion here always baffled me. Are you familiar with the the phrase, “I love you?” Now there a is real mystery, but you don’t hear people whining, “what’s that mean.” “Someone left the cake out in the rain” means: “Someone left the cake out in the rain.” Well, plus more. Like with “I love you”— how there’s something behind that, which means much, much more—the same is true with the lyrics of this song. What’s with people needing to have everything spelled out of them, anyway? It’s not something you reinterpret with clunky explanations—it’s something you feel.

03
May
20

Martin Denny “Exotica”

I’ve had a lot of Martin Denny records over the years—I must have left some behind when I moved, here and there—they’re relatively easy to find, cheap—kind of your classic thrift-store record that is worth picking up, even if scratchy. They must have sold a lot of them. This one is the first “Exotica” genre record, apparently—from which Exotica got its name. It’s a good name for anything. It would be a good name for a soap review website: Soap Exotica. Oh, wait, that exists (it’s mine). It would be a good name for a restaurant, say Egg Exotica, or Exotica Taco. Martin Denny kept putting out several records a year all through the Sixties and beyond—I don’t know how many in all. I suppose there are some real connoisseurs of this music who might have their favorites, might have them all ranked, even! Those kind of nuts walk among us! I will, at some point, try to find some good writing about Martin Denny, and Exotica in general, and see if there is a consensus “best” record. I believe I have a few more, right now, but I’m not sure. As a fun exercise, I’m going to try to imagine I’m hearing this (and this type of music) for the first time. First, there’s the novelty of the birds, the sound effects, the jungle sounds. Depending on who you are, that might get old, say, anywhere from one listening to never. Then, I guess, somewhat, it reminds me of stuff I’d hear as a kid, like the Latin rhythm George Shearing records that my parents played. I can’t remember if they had any Martin Denny, or Arthur Lyman records, but I don’t think so. Anyway, I could listen to this stuff all day long, when I’m in the mood for it, but who can predict one’s moods? I would probably be a much bigger fan, overall, if my apartment was decorated to look like a Tiki Bar (something I could do), and if I was mixing up an occasional rum drink with tropical fruit (something I’d be better off not getting back into, at this point).




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