Archive for the 'Eggroll' Category

07
Jun
19

Jon Astley “The Compleat Angler”

Official title is “Jon Astley : The Compleat Angler.” (Colon between artist and album name, Angler italicized, complete spelled “Compleat”—as in the 1653 book by Izaak Walton). I was working on one of my own songs the other day, in which I stole the sentiment from the song “Glad to Be Unhappy”—one of my favorite standards, so I listened to a version by Sinatra, and then Billie Holiday, thinking about the essence of the song—which I’m not going into right now, as this is a review of Jon Astley. But also, I thought, who wrote this, by the way? (I don’t always remember who wrote a lot of standards), and it was, no surprise, Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart. Then I picked a record to write about, with my random system, and it’s this one I know nothing about, maybe listened to once, or never? I put it on, painfully clear lyrics, and in the fifth line he says, “You’re not Rodgers and Hart.” This is the kind of thing that happens in my life all the time. I no longer think of it as a coincidence, or a random thing, but also I don’t even make a big deal out of it. It’s about being connected, tuned into the rhythms of the world. It’s like, when you’re not tuned in (I’m not, a lot of the time), you walk into a lot of walls. When you are tuned in, you can walk through walls. But it’s not just an all or nothing thing, either. I spend a lot of my life not tuned in, and it’s okay. You work through it. And it’s usually more a matter of degree, sometimes sharper, sometimes duller. Most of us couldn’t deal with being totally tuned in all the time, anyway, because you’d be reading minds and sometimes seeing a little more than you can handle.

I’d never heard of Jon Astley, and I suppose I picked up this record for one, because of the cover: a super high-contrast color photo of an Eighties-looking dude holding a really big fish and looking up to either God or something about to fall on him. It’s evocative, especially if you’re drawn to images of fish, for whatever reason. Also, the title is taken from the old meditation on fishing that I used to have a copy of, but never read… lost somehow. I wanted to find out if this famous, enduring book was really about fishing, and if it was, what are the hidden charms of fishing that have thus-far escaped me. Or if it was a metaphor—what was it about. Did it have anything to do with Ricard Brautigans’s Trout Fishing in America? And if so, what it that about. (Also, I suppose, in part, to carry on the fish tradition. I made an epic 6 hour long video, called Seafood, while I lived in Portland, Oregon, in the late Nineties. It is the major accomplishment of my time there, and will likely disappear entirely with the loss or degradation of the single VHS copy that exists.)

It’s interesting, the LP label (Atlantic), instead of saying, Side One and Side Two, it says Digital One and Digital Two. I guess in 1988, we hadn’t had “digital” shoved up our asses for several decades, right? The thing that’s kind of weird is that, since I’m stuck in the Seventies, to some degree, this record sounds hopelessly futuristic to me. As in a future I don’t want to walk into. But it’s actually old, by most anyone’s account, and I think: while I’d never have put on a CD of this record, because it’s vinyl, there’s a certain charm that’s making me pay attention. The lyrics are crystal clear, provocative, and sometimes funny. The songs are catchy. The whole thing is about 20 times cleaner and tighter than my neighbors are used to hearing come out of Room 432, and I’m worried someone might come by and ask to borrow a cup of sugar, or Jägermeister. I’m kind of making fun of it, but actually, these are some very good songs, so even if it does sound like they’re being played by robots, I’m rather enjoying it. Bravo Jon Astley! (And no, that’s not actually my room number.)

08
May
18

The Byrds “Younger Than Yesterday”

I have spent my life trying not to have to try to figure out The Byrds; it might have been different if I’d started way back, maybe not from the beginning, but maybe when this 1967 album came out, their fourth. I could have joined the cult, been indoctrinated, socialized, whatever. It’s kind of like with any cult, if you’re brainwashed from childhood, the belief is second nature, and of course even inescapable. But it you’re not, none of it ever really makes sense. The Byrds have had so many members come and go over the years, they may as well be a group with a history like the Masons, and in fact, there could be arguments made that The Byrds and the Masons are one in the same. This brilliant, groundbreaking album comes off the tracks at the end of the “CTA – 102” when we hear the simultaneous forward and tape reversed voice of Satan (which sounds suspiciously like the garden gnome episode of “Night Gallery”)—and the album then starts traveling in reverse (the next song is “Renaissance Fair”).

I was finally coerced to approach this record by my ex-employer, Anthony Franciosa (not the actor, but the editor of The Moss Problemon which this review is simulcast), and even though the compensation is minimal, Tony convinced me over breakfast at his regular hangout, Foxy’s Restaurant, in Glendale (part of the greater Los Angeles). One of his arguments was that the song “Thoughts and Words” sounds exactly like a Bob Lind number (who I just wrote about) and then goes into a chorus that sounds exactly like someone else (on the tip of my tongue—I’ll think of it and fill it in here later). Then it uses the backwards guitars, which never sounded good to me, but still, I like the idea. That technique is taken to an extreme with “Mind Gardens,” which is one of those hippie numbers that drugs (LSD?) allow the artist to dispense with harmony, melody, rhythm, structure, rhyme, story, or any narrative sense at all. Long live 1967! The funny thing is that I always thought the song was called “Mings Garden” and was about Moo Goo Gai Pan.

“My Back Pages” is another one of those Bob Dylan songs that is much better than he played it. And I’m not one of those Dylan haters, in fact I’m writing the first book ever about him, and he’s sitting across the table from me right now, and I’m only interrupting our interview to write this quick review. What many people don’t realize is that The Byrds were actually several groups at once, and one piece of evidence for that is the cover of this record, with images of them in the future, after having passed away, returning as ghosts. All dead before their time, they did return, were accused of inventing “country-rock”—but never convicted. Actually, I’m not sure if the back of this record, with a badly done collage of old band photos (or someone else’s high school yearbook, perhaps), was actually like this (it looks like drawn on goatees, red lipstick, and bleeding tears) or if some punk kid altered it with marker. Because it may have been the inspiration for The Rolling Stones “Some Girls”—if the latter is not true.

The Byrds are and were Chris Hillman, David Crosby, Michael Clark, Gene Clark, Gene Clarke, Mitchel Clark, Gene Clarke, Michel Clarke, and identical twins Jim and Roger McGuinn. An earlier incantation of the band was known as the Yardbyrds, and here they’ve revived their hit, “Have You Seen Her Face.” The song “So You Want to be a Rock ‘n’ Roll Star,” so ingrained in the culture it won’t come out even with Formula 409 at least satisfies the “song with ‘rock’n’roll’ in the title” requirement for consideration for inauguration into the Rock Hall o’ Fame, in Cleveland, Ohio. Another odd fact is that the band’s name upside down and backwards is “Spjh8.” Someone has released a record called “Older Than Tomorrow”—but it violated the conditions of its parole before it could drop. All other facets of this record and band, including the songs I haven’t touched on, the concept, the attitude, and the execution, can only be described as seminal. If not kaleidoscopic.




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