Posts Tagged ‘Questions

15
Oct
18

The Gerry Mulligan Quartet “What Is There to Say?”

Somehow I ended up with two of these albums, even though I’m not particularly a rabid Gerry Mulligan fan—which leads me to believe it was a fairly popular jazz record which you could sell a mint copy on the internet for about $2.00. I’m listening to it now, though, and it’s great. I’m going to keep one of these just as pure listening for pleasure record—the other copy is up for grabs. It just occurred to me—what do I have against Gerry Mulligan? Maybe it’s his first name that bothers me—that name, I’m never sure if it’s “Jerry” or “Gary”—I mean, I guess it’s always pronounced like Jerry—okay—sorry to offend the Gerry’s out there, that’s not fair. Maybe it’s his last name, which is some kind of stew, I guess, and also an unfortunate golf term—but it’s also Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel—one of my favorite children’s picture books—so I should come around it it! Also, he’s a blond guy playing jazz—no big deal, or shouldn’t be—but say, the picture of him on the cover of this album—you’ve never seen such long blond eyelashes. Actually, he really reminds me of someone on this cover photo—its either some famous actress or someone I know—I should just try to get that out of my head or I’ll go nuts trying to think of who. And then… he plays—or is most well known for—a weird instrument—the baritone saxophone—which isn’t really that weird actually, and is really pretty cool, and sounds great. So all in all, I should just really come around to Gerry Mulligan!

The liner notes on back are by Gerry Mulligan, and pretty good—a bit of a diatribe against the over-seriousness of jazz criticism—not too angry, good-natured. The quartet is Mulligan, Art Farmer on trumpet, Bill Crown on bass, and Dave Bailey on drums. Eight songs, some standards like “My Funny Valentine” and “Just in Time,” and some originals by Mulligan, including one called “Utter Chaos.” The songs were all recorded right about the time I was being conceived, if not biologically, working up to it with what I hope were romantic good times. My dad might have had this record, actually, though I don’t recall seeing it in his collection—though I might have ignored it, just thinking about how you could land a helicopter on that dude’s eyelashes. It’s the kind of stuff my dad listened to—he liked cool jazz—and maybe my mom, too—I’m not sure, now that I think about it—whose records were whose, for sure—which ones they each brought to the relationship, and then which ones they bought after the marriage. It’s too late to ask them now, too—kind of sad. Anyone reading this whose parents are still alive, make sure you ask them all those questions, important or not, while you have the chance!

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30
Aug
18

Mickey Newbury “Sweet Memories”

This is a 1985 LP put out by MCA Records of “previously released material”—there’s nothing wrong with that if the songs are good—but the presentation, the album cover, doesn’t feel like an artist’s album, but a record company product, which, again is okay, but I’m more interested in the LP as an art form that’s a direct extension of the artist from a certain time and place. This would be the ideal thing to find on cassette at a truck-stop during a nonstop cross country road-trip in a vintage automobile. This would be your 3am ’til dawn music. The back contains some concise liner notes written by Wesley H. Rose, president of Acuff-Rose Publications, and he calls Mickey Newbury one of the great songwriters of our time. You might not have heard of him, but if you were a Nashville old-timer, you certainly would have. I wonder what’s going to happen to Nashville. I’ve heard, repeatedly, lately, about how the population there is exploding. For whatever reason, it’s the place to move to. Which means, of course, that the people who are getting there now, or soon, are going to have a hard time finding a place to live, finding a job, making ends meet. I suppose many of those moving there are songwriters, trying to break into the songwriting, singing, playing, recording music business. Most won’t make it. Some will stay and work at the new microbrewery, or a call center, and some will go back to the town they came from, and some will try the next place. I wonder where the next place is, or going to be?

Anyway, this is a fine listening record, and maybe a good record to study a well-crafted Nashville style song, but I’m not going to focus on the songs right now because many of them are on other Mickey Newbury records I have and will write about later. This has the feeling of a post-career record (not the case) with a 7 inch single size portrait of him on the cover (with his great smile and hair) surrounded by an expanse of oppressive green background (a shade of green I’d call “basement rec-room”). I first heard Mickey Newbury just a few years ago during a WKCR NY radio country music marathon, and in particular, this one song (can’t remember what now) that struck me as being the kind of song I’d like to write. So then I got kind of obsessed, not recalling ever seeing his records—started looking for them and found them affordable, and before you know it, I have six of his LPs (from 1973 to 1979) plus this one. I’ll get around to writing about those records when they come up on my random review system. Let this be my introduction to Mickey Newbury and promise of more to come. In a quick perusal of his internet biography (which you never want to take as gospel) it sounds like he had great success as a songwriter at a relatively early age, but didn’t record until his late twenties (what some would consider “late”), but then put out a lot of records, until he suffered with health issues and died far too young. You can find quotes of the utmost respect for him by some great musicians and songwriters. I’ll look forward to really listening in depth to some of his records, here, in the near future.

05
Aug
18

Link Wray “Link Wray”

Maybe this is the first Link Wray record, as it doesn’t have a title other than “Link Wray”—though, didn’t he put out records in the 50s?—and this looks seriously 70s, but there’s no date on it (the only thing I’m going to look up, once I’m reunited with the internet, is the dates each of these records came out). Anyway, here is another reminder to look more deeply into the early work of people you feel you have an idea of what they’re about; I’ve always been a Link Wray fan based on the few songs I know, and his sound, but really know very few recordings or anything about him. This record is on Polydor so he must have been well known enough, plus the cover is unusual in that it’s his head in profile, but die-cut along his face, and it opens that way. I thought the record companies reserved the fancy, die-cut covers for well-established gold sellers. Upon opening, a small photo is revealed—of a ramshackle structure, crudely painted with the sign, “Wray’s Shack 3 Track”—which is, according to the credits, the studio where the record was recorded, in Accokeek, Maryland. It would have been interesting to have been a neighbor to Link Wray and “The Family”—the credited musicians, several of which have the last name Wray. One name, Steve Verroca, plays drums, and also has half the songwriting credits. It makes me wonder when, if, and how the decision was made to call the band “Link Wray” and not something more band-like, such as “The Family” or “The Accokeek Noise Ordinance.”

29
Jul
18

Bob Dylan “Street Legal”

I’ve never heard this record before and I’m guessing, but not sure, that when it came out in 1978—the year I graduated from high school and was avidly reading Rolling Stone magazine—it got a less than favorable review—or maybe I was just over Dylan by that time, temporarily—or maybe his previous album was too weird and inscrutable—who knows. Anyway, the first thing that’s striking to me is that in the live performance, black and white, photo on the back, he looks just like Freddie Mercury—did people, when this record was released, talk or write excessively about about how he looks just like Freddie Mercury? It looks like a picture from the Renaldo and Clara/”Rolling Thunder Revue” era, but wasn’t that years earlier? Anyway, it’s just a bit of a mystery. On the front cover there’s a picture of him standing in a doorway wearing some really awful jeans and a black leather vest, looking left, down the street like he’s waiting for someone, or a bus.

“Baby Stop Crying” is a nice song, pretty soulful (though the sax break does sound a little St. Elmo’s Fire (my shorthand for lameness). I just noticed the photos on the inside sleeve, two out-of-focus, B&W photos of Bob and a dark skinned man (really wish I had the Big I to look this up) at what looks like a really great tea shop. Bob’s wearing that polkadot shirt you see in a lot of photos (I’m assuming he had more than one, but who knows). It almost looks like a much earlier photo. Can you date Dylan pics by his shirts?

21
Jul
18

Silver Jews “American Water”

There is more minimal packaging, I suppose, but not much—the cover looks like a computer drawing (or could be a painting, but as a reproduction it looks like computer art) of a Western landscape with a pink highway extending to a butte strewn grey horizon. All letters are in a font called “not my favorite font”—the same font on other Silver Jews records, I think. Fonts were never a big deal until there were choices, and then came the problems. This record, on Drag City records in Chicago, is from 1998 (I only know that later, when the one thing I’m later using the internet for is the dates, because inexplicably, a lot of records contain no date whatsoever, which really kind of drives me crazy). There is absolutely no information on this record except the name of the band, the name of the album, the song titles, and their times. Oh, wait, I just discovered a one page insert (I swear that it wasn’t in there before—is someone fucking with me?) with lyrics, some drawings, copyright date, recording info, and five names of band members. There’s David Berman, of course, and this incarnation of the band included Stephen Malkmus, who co-wrote a couple of songs. I’m not sure where this record sits in the Silver Jews timeline, but it’s not the first and not the last.

This is a remarkably good record, and the only reason it’s not my favorite is because I’m pretty sure I like that Bright Flight one more, but that could change the more I listen to this. David Berman’s lyrics are so good it’s worth your time listening for awhile (you can generally understand them when he sings) then going back to read along while listening, because it’s probably going to increase the depth of your understanding. Try “Buckingham Rabbit”—holy shit. A couple of songs are co-written by Malkmus and you can tell, they sound like his kind of songs, and I think on those they sing together, like a duel lead vocal. I might be wrong, I wasn’t there. My favorite is “Blue Arrangements”—listen to the first two verses, the lyrics with the sleepy singing, the guitar, and if you don’t fall in love with that combination of words, images, sounds etc., you and I aren’t going to be taking a cross-county car trip anytime soon.

18
Jul
18

Fleetwood Mac “Mystery to Me”

This is a record that should be woefully familiar to record collectors because its heinous cover will at some point assault you during your journeys; it’s a giant stoner drawing of some kind of baboon eating a cake, and it folds out to show him in conversation with an equally hideous, bald, bearded, scholarly man. I don’t know what it all means, but being hungry, the cake with the candied red and green cherries actually looks pretty good. The inside photo is much nicer, of five hairy hippies in a pyramid huddle looking slightly upward at the camera. I recognize Christine and John McVie, the “Mac” part of the band, and Mick Fleetwood, who I believe is like eight feet tall; he’s one of those guys who makes whatever drums he’s playing look like a kids’ drum-set, and like he should probably be out slaying dragons instead. The other two are the guitarists, Bob Welch and Bob Weston (I wish they were called Bob W.1 and Bob W.2) who I don’t recognize, even though I do remember a prominent Bob Welch solo record from, I think, the Seventies, with him on the cover with those big, graduated rose lens glasses, and an open shirt, generally reeking of coke. Like many people, I first came upon Fleetwood Mac with those two records with black and white covers (I think) around the time that Stevie Nicks and Lindsay Buckingham became prominent members (I think—it’s been a few years since I’ve gone back to those records, though songs from them will be over-played into the unforeseeable future).

Actually, I’m kind of glad I’m in this cabin in the “North Woods” because I could easily go into a Fleetwood Mac rabbit hole if I had free use of the internet—and I could find the marijuana I know is around here somewhere. In fact, had they known when they formed the band, Rabbithole would have been a better name. Was this the band that had two couples that eventually broke up and dated each other? 1973 was a good year for music and movies, one of my favorite years, but there is not a lot on first listening to this record that’s producing mental notes to go back for a second listening; it’s already sounding like a chore, and choosing between this and doing the dishes… About half the songs are written by Bob Welch, and he is also singing on half or more—I’m assuming that’s him. Even when Christine McVie sings there isn’t much of a glimmer of the later Fleetwood Mac (to me, I’m sure purists would disagree). I wonder if someone has written a decent biography of the band—that might be kind of fascinating. Hey, here’s a cover song, “For Your Love”—which I recognize, of course, from the Yardbirds; I’m afraid it’s weak, especially the wanky guitar. Oh well, some paths in the woods circle right back to the cabin after about five minutes and you realize you’d rather just be making pancakes.

28
Jun
18

Michael Hurley “Land of Lo-Fi”

If I was in my 70s (I think that describes the relative age of Michael Hurley) and someone called “Mississippi Records” wanted to put out, on albums, my recordings, then hell yes. It makes me want to move back to Portland, actually (there are a lot of things, day to day, that make me want to move back to Portland—maybe my favorite place I’ve lived, aside from the lack of snow and thunderstorms). Also, on all Michael Hurley records you get cover art that’s essentially his art, paintings, etc. (I’m assuming)—so that’s twice the reason to buy these records. Some of the songs, however, I can do without, like the ones that feature instrumentation that consists of air blowing through a reed-type sound maker (well, one sounds like a pump organ, which is nice, though I’m not sure). His lyrics are always worth paying attention to, if you can make them out. I best like the songs where he plays guitar—he has a pretty nice sound and style. “Old Doc Gieger” is my favorite one here.




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