[Today: New York City's lipstick killers take Rock back to its roots and lay a foundation for Punk...]
Trashy, androgynous, swaggering, vulgar, and raw. The New York Dolls were all of those things and so much more. Formed in 1971, they gained a cult following during a long residency at the Mercer Arts Center in New York City. And because of their lipstick and low musical proficiency, this adoring throng of local fans was the only reason that the group was eventually signed to a record contract.
Their lack of technique was buried within aggressive, ragged rawk that ran counter to the prevailing trends of showy solos and confessional songwriting, and their style would help set the stage for the two-minutes-and-change blasts of song that would come to define Punk just a few years later. But by then the Dolls were running on fumes, and didn’t last beyond album number two. It was called Too Much Too Soon, but the first part of that title clearly didn’t refer to chart success or album sales – neither of their albums cracked the Top 100.
The Dolls aren’t noteworthy because of their musical gifts – or lack thereof – but because they tapped a vein of excitement that had laid dormant in music for years. In many ways, their closest antecedents (besides glam and The Stooges) were early rockers like Jerry Lee Lewis and Elvis, who brought a sense of exhileration to music, weren’t afraid of showmanship, and could whip any crowd into a frenzy. By 1973 – the year this album was released – the music industry had ‘matured’ and forgotten that the main elements of Rock will always be riffs and attitude. The Dolls had both in spades.
Has there ever been an album cover that more accurately conveyed the music to be found inside of it? If the shit that Mick Jagger scraped right off his shoe formed a band, it would no doubt sound just like this. What made the New York Dolls so offensive to so many is exactly what makes them so great today.
In lieu of a fancy write-up explaining why compilations kick ass (and all available evidence certainly suggests that they do) I’ve decided to include an audio/visual aid to help set the mood today:
And now, twelve more compilations that no music collection should be without:
The Anthology Of American Folk Music *** Harry Smith’s collection of pre-WWII music is the granddaddy of all mixed tapes, and a living link to the songs of the past. If you were to have but one compilation in your music collection, this is without a doubt the one to own.
Nuggets: Original Artyfacts From The First Psychedelic Era *** Taken individually, these quirky songs were the sound of a thousand garage bands doing their best Beatles impersonations. But taken collectively, it’s pretty clear that this was the original rumble of Punk.
The Complete Stax/Volt Singles 1959-1968 *** Nine – count ‘em – nine discs of Stax/Volt Funk and Soul goodness makes for one of the greatest collections of music ever put together. You are not worthy…
The Sun Records Collection *** This three-disc set is a comprehensive starter kit on one of the most influential record labels of all-time. You’ll want to pick up albums by many of the individual artists (including Elvis, Johnny Cash, Jerry Lee Lewis, Charlie Rich, and many others), but for an overall sampler of the stable of talent assembled by Sam Phillips, this can’t be beat.
The Disco Box *** Disco was a singles genre in more ways than one. Hundreds of questionable disco complilations with too much filler once made it difficult to get yer groove on. Thankfully, the good folks at Rhino records have compiled the essential four-disc set of seventies dancefloor classics, rendering every other “Disco’s Greatest Hits” package completely moot.
In Yo Face: The History Of Funk [Volumes 1/2 to 5] *** Rhino strikes again with this six-disc (each volume sold separately) set of killer Funk jams both popular (Parliament, Sly & The Family Stone, James Brown) and less so (Eddie Kendricks, George Duke, Fugi). The careful sequencing of – and hidden gems on – these collections make them worth owning even if you already have plenty of Funk.
Martin Scorsese Presents The Blues *** Only someone as well-connected as Scorsese could have made this super-ambitious Blues compilation a reality. As Amazon.com says, “This is by far the best and most comprehensive introduction to recorded blues ever assembled, drawing styles, record labels, and eras together with the efficiency of a spider’s web.”
Tougher Than Tough: The Story Of Jamaican Music *** This set includes 95 essential tracks spread over four discs that map the history of the Carribean island’s musical growth. From ska to rock steady to reggae and beyond, Tougher Than Tough is both astonishly comprehensive and great fun.
The Blue Note Years *** Marvel at the history of Blue Note records, lovingly collected over this 14-disc set that includes seven individual 2-disc volumes that cover various aspects of the label’s legacy. Volume 2 of this set, Jazz Message is the single strongest Jazz compilation to be found anywhere on the planet.
Arhoolie Records 40th Anniversary Box *** Released in 2000 to celebrate the label’s 40th anniversary, this box blends the Blues, Tex-Mex, Folk, Gospel, Jazz, Cajun, Country, and more into a delicious gumbo of styles and sounds. Some call this ‘roots’ music, but whatever moniker you care to lay on it, it’s an essential collection of real music played by real people.
Tommy Boy Presents Hip-Hop Essentials *** Hip-Hop is filled with one-hit wonders and fly-by-night record labels, so compiling anything approaching an in-depth look at the genre can be rather daunting. This 12-disc set is currently the most definitive collection available that attempts to captures all sides of this many-headed genre.
Tropicalia: A Brazilian Revolution In Sound *** If you aren’t hip to the sounds of Tropicalia, this single disc (double LP) collection is the place to start. Featuring the lush sounds of Gal Costa, Os Mutantes, Gilberto Gil, Tom Ze, Jorge Ben, and Caetano Veloso, this is revolution wrapped up in the sound of sunshine.
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And five record labels you can always trust for compilations:
[Today: Let's pay a visit to the Sunset Strip of the late 50's...]
Setting the scene: The awning glows in the warm Los Angeles evening – ‘CRESCENDO’ – one word that beckons like a seasoned exotic dancer. The doorman (so tall that his “Roger” nametag is at eye level) offers a gruff welcome and pulls back a thick red velvet curtain to reveal the room. The band, onstage, front and center, wear matching blue suits with plenty of ruffle, and the light gleams off the brass of their instruments as they move – and play – in perfect time. Before them, a dancefloor filled with whirling bodies matches the rhythm and energy of the band, note for note, step for step. The dancers exchange words, jokes, secrets, promises – all to be forgotten before the next mambo is over.
The dancefloor is ringed with tables, which in turn are ringed by booths strategically raised above the action. This is where the young lions of Hollywood sit and drink their bright cocktails while they watch the warm LA nights bleed into hot LA mornings. Cigarette smoke curls languidly from their fingertips while – without a care in the world – they watch the band as it continues to take care of business. They politely applaud between numbers.
The lights dim and a voluptuous young woman steps up to the spotlit microphone and begins to sing. She wears a long white gown that is covered with thousands of sequins that send off shimmering sparkles with every slight movement. Her song is in Spanish but clearly about love lost, and as she pours the pieces of her heart into the room, the dancers become still and every eye is upon her. There is real, heartfelt applause when she finishes, not the mere polite kind, and immediately the lights go up and the band kicks into another hot number and the dancers go back to whirling and twirling away their cares, as well as my own.
And that’s when I feel the doorman grab me by the back of my coat and – dragging me to the exit – scold me “You can’t be in here. It’s 1960, and you weren’t even born until 1969.” And as he pulls me through the velvet curtain, and tosses me into the street, he lets loose “AND STOP WRITING ABOUT PLACES YOU’VE NEVER BEEN!” As my head meets the sidewalk, and Roger retreats inside the smokey club, I feel the stabs of trumpet against my skull, followed by a faint, perfectly polite round of applause.
Is The Police’s final album a landmark achievement or a pompous, overblown mess? Let me know what you think, and help settle my mind on this all-consuming question…
THUMBS UP:Synchronicity was one of the albums of the 80′s. Along with Thriller, Joshua Tree, Appetite For Destruction, and a handful of other releases, it helped define some of what was good about music in a decade that sounded much too shiny. Featuring the misunderstood mega-hit ‘Every Breath You Take’, the cerebral ‘King Of Pain’ and the driving ‘Synchronicity I’ this was intelligent pop music that wore its heart on its sleeve but rarely felt trite. Of course, it was their best-selling album by a mile, yet even though it sold in blockbuster numbers it still felt a work of art. The Police packed it in after this album, and allowed music fans the rarest of experiences: watching a band go out on top.
THUMBS DOWN: How can Synchronicity be one of the best albums of the decade when it is so far from the group’s own best work? This album has some fine moments, but it also has its share of clunkers, including the child-like ‘Walking In Your Footsteps’, the overeager ‘Tea In The Sahara’ and the monstrously ridiculous ‘Mother’. Tellingly, this album has almost none of the Reggae thump of their earlier efforts. In its place is a breezier, jazzier sound that – along with the ‘look at how smart I am’ lyrics – forshadowed Sting’s solo career. This is a good album that has an equal number of misses and hits. Judged simply on units shifted, this is their masterpiece. But if you’re looking for their best album, look no further than Ghost In The Machine.
[Well, what do you think? Your own thumbs up and thumbs down will be calculated by elves, who will then either incessently play this album for me, or smash it into tiny, unplayable pieces. Don't keep the elves waiting...]
[Today: The artist formerly known as Matt Ward creates a minor-key classic...]
“Better watch your soul or it’ll leave you like a hundred bucks” – it’s the kind of line that songwriters work a lifetime for, and the sort that M. Ward tosses off as effortlessly as a raindrop rolls off a leaf. His hushed songs are reminiscent of folk and tin-pan alley tradition, but the simplicity of their form belies the depth of feeling that runs throughout his work. Ward has the ragged croak of a bluesman twice his age, and uses it as an instrument in its own right, coaxing meaning out of phrases (such as “Water, so much water under the bridge”) that wouldn’t normally carry much freight.
Of that ages-old voice, Ward explains “I started recording in my parents’ house when I was 16 and, not wanting to wake anybody up, you just start to sing quieter and play quieter. I think that’s why my voice is so messed-up. People who only know the records think I’m really old or from the South.” The 33 year-old Portland, OR resident is neither, but his smoked-out voice and earthy subject matter make those assumptions entirely understandable. Recorded in 2001, End Of Amnesia inhabits a rich middle-ground between the antique and the modern. It’s a place beyond such contrivances as wristwatches, where songs spring from the soil, and everything old is new again.
[Today: Funkadelic shake it to the East and shake it to the West...]
“Play like your mama just died” was George Clinton’s instruction to guitarist Eddie Hazel on how the first half of the song ‘Maggot Brain’ should be played. Hazel did just that, reeling off an intense, searching solo that was so good Clinton faded the rest of the band out of the recording. Amazingly, this epic, 10-minute title track was recorded in a single take. Speculation abounds that it’s based on Clinton’s experience of finding the decomposed, overdosed body of his older brother, but no matter the orgin, it’s heavy, heavy stuff.
Released in July of 1971, Maggot Brain finds young funk pioneers Funkadelic firing on all cylinders. ‘Can You Get To That’ ‘Super Stupid’ ‘Hit It And Quit It’ are all bold, blacker-than-black anthems that have one foot in outer space and the other in the middle of the ghetto. Call-and-response lines are littered throughout, giving the record a nearly gospel feel, but it is clearly concerned with serious secular matters. “How do you survive in a world that’s fundamentally against you?” is the un-asked question that that lies at the heart of this album. There are no easy answers to be found here – indeed, Hazel’s own life would be shadowed by drug problems, and he would die of liver failure in 1992. But even though Maggot Brain is freaked out and jittery, it’s totally and undeniably funky.
Ah… the collaboration. It’s the musical equivalent of the old saw “one hand washes the other.” A guest spot is a great way for an artist (usually Paul McCartney) to help out an associate while staying in the public eye. Because there’s a certain amount of star power inherent in any true “collaboration” (non-starring collaborator = studio musician) and stars don’t go throwing their power around indiscriminately, many collaborations work quite well. They can bring together heavyweights (think McCartney and Michael Jackson), pit complementing voices against each other (Connor Oberst and Emmylou Harris), or match pleasingly oddball pairs (Art Of Noise and Max Headroom). Here however, are eleven collaborations that didn’t go quite so smoothly, and aren’t likely to be fondly remembered by many:
Axl Rose & Elton John
At the MTV video music awards in 1992, the man who penned the lyrics “Immigrants and faggots/They make no sense to me” performed a duet with the man who sang “Crocodile Rock” – and a nation wept.
Ronnie Biggs & The Sex Pistols
Almost immediately after Johnny Rotten left the Pistols, Malcolm McLaren came up with the hair-brained scheme of matching the remaining members of the group with notorious “great train robber” Ronnie Biggs. This was shortly before McLaren finally realized that the group consisted of more than just bailing wire and promotional genius.
Michael Jackson & Lisa Marie Presley
Jackson and Presley’s 1994 stunt wedding slash cry in the dark for publicity wasn’t strictly a musical collaboration, but it nonetheless left us all scratching our heads in pure wonder.
Elvis Presley & Richard Nixon
In December of 1970, Elvis arranged a meeting with President Nixon, where he offered to become a DEA deputy to help squash the distribution of drugs within the music industry (cue laugh track). This was clearly his effort to gain more legal means of obtaining and traveling with his own little slice of pharmacopia, but it made for one of the more interesting photo ops in modern history.
Metallica & The San Francisco Symphony
This little gem has been alienating fans of metal, classical, and common sense since 1999.
David Bowie & Bing Crosby
While it’s hard to see what Bowie stood to gain from this collaboration, Crosby wisely took full advantage of the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to perform Christmas music with a creature from outer space.
Led Zeppelin & Phil Collins
When Zep reunited for Live Aid in 1985, they could have played with nearly any drummer in the world. They chose… Phil Collins. After playing an early set with Sting in London, Collins jumped on the Concorde and flew to Philadelphia, where he took part in Zeppelin’s anticlimactic set. This feat made Collins the first balding, overrated musician to play in front of unadoring fans on two continents in the same day. Bravo Phil!
Tom Waits & Crystal Gayle
Waits’ 1982 collaboration with human hair farm Gayle gets solid reviews all around (allmusic.com gives it four & a half out of five stars), but fans of his normal whiskey-and-razorblades vocalizing will be thrown for a loop by it.
Eminem & Elton John
Noted homophobe Marshall Mathers performed ‘Stan’ with noted homosexual Elton John at the 2001 Grammys. No word yet on when Eminem and Axl Rose are getting together to cut ‘Rocket Man’…
Dead Kennedys & Brandon Cruz
Former Courtship Of Eddie’s Father star Cruz (he played Eddie) had a background in the 80′s Los Angeles Punk scene, but was still an eyebrow raising choice to replace Jello Biafra as lead singer of the group from 2001 to 2003.
[Lee Hazlewood passed away on August 4th at the age of 78. A fond farewell to the man who re-invented cowboy cool...]
Almost every rocker wants to be seen as a rebel, but Lee Hazlewood was the real deal. He rebelled against the music industry, against stuffed shirts, and finally, against his own success. His psychedelic cowboy crooning, lush musical arrangements, and ‘aw shucks’ lyrical brilliance denied easy categorization and made him, musically, a man without a country. With a slow drawl and a quick wit, Hazlewood sang like a real-life cowboy – weaving in and out of the melody, his voice rich in character and seemingly shaped by a lifetime of bourbon and hell-raising. Every song Hazlewood recorded was tailored to that voice, rather than the other way around.
Best known for his collaborations with Nancy Sinatra in the late 60′s, Hazlewood carved out his own unique niche in the world of music. Never fully embraced by the established Nashville country scene, he was just starting to gain wider acclaim when he up and moved to Sweden in the early 70′s. He would live there for the rest of the decade, sporadically releasing albums that were as good as any in his iconoclastic career. That move was a microcosm of his career: undercutting a chance at mainstream success in favor of following his fun-loving muse down a dirty side street.
This two-for-one disc collects a pair of albums he released while in self-imposed European exile: 1973′s Poet, Fool Or Bum, and 1977′s Back On The Street Again. Like most of his non-Nancy Sinatra-related records, these albums were panned on release and have only recently begun to find their audience. In fact, Hazlewood’s back catalogue is selling in unprecendented numbers these days. It seems Lee understood something that the indie kids are just catching onto: if you’re going to package yourself, it’s best to act like you’re not selling a damned thing.
[Today: In honor of the 30th anniversary of Elvis Presley's death, let's take a look back at the Big Bang of Rock & Roll...]
In July of 1954, Elvis – along with guitarist Scotty Moore, bassist Bill Black, and producer Sam Phillips – fused Country, R&B, Gospel, and Swing, and split the atom on Rock & Roll. Fortunately, these recordings survived, and were released in 1976 as The Sun Sessions. To hear Elvis grappling with his art, before fame had jaded him to the possibilities of song, is as viscerally stimulating as watching a lion run free in the wild. If Elvis was the King (and he was) then he earned his crown right away.
Whether or not you believe that Elvis and company “invented” Rock & Roll (and Chuck Berry, among others, could give you plenty of reasons why they didn’t), there’s no denying that he was the first superstar of the genre. His frenzied ascent to the top of the entertainment pyramid changed the way records – and the personalities who made them – were bought and sold.
But before he was “Elvis” – and the spark that lit an entire industry – he was just a kid from Tupelo, MS whose only desire, according to Roy Carr’s original liner notes “was to own the snazziest car in town.” He got a lot more than he bargained for. But before he found the fame that eventually overtook him, he laid down a series of songs that helped form a new template for musical expression, and cemented his status as the once and future King.
Of course, he quickly became distracted from music, joined the army, and then embarked on a long series of second rate movie musicals that misused his talents and sapped his enjoyment for singing. By the time he took his music seriously again, his moment had effectively passed and he was merely an oldies act in waiting. From there it was a short stroll to Vegas, jumpsuits, karate, pills by the truckload, and an inglorious death while perched on his porcelein throne.
Elvis was a mass of contradictions that seem to sum up the problems of the music business as a whole: talented, humble, inspired, god-fearing, generous, handsome, and charismatic on one hand – cartoonish, egotistical, lazy, drug-abusing, gun-toting, bloated and loutish on the other. Elvis really was all things to all people, and this may be his single greatest accomplishment. It certainly explains his ever enduring popularity.
But the towering myth of Elvis subsumed his music long before he died. This is entirely understandable, given the character of his life, but it’s unfortunate. The tall tales and grilled peanut butter and banana sandwiches make it easy to forget what a gifted singer Elvis once was. When he took his material seriously or had serious material to work with, his command of a song was second to none. And nowhere is that more apparent than deep in the grooves of The Sun Sessions.
A journey through Elvis Presley’s back catlogue is one long walk through a minefield of bad albums. In addition to his nearly unlistenable musical soundtracks from the 60′s and hit-or-mostly-miss string of 70′s albums, he is perhaps the most over-anthologized artist in the history of music. All of this makes selecting an Elvis record at best a crap shoot. Here are ten Elvis records that any fan of music can own and enjoy without shame:
Elvis Presley (1956)
This is where the legend began. Elvis’ first album for RCA provided ample evidence of his greatness. ‘Blue Suede Shoes’ and ‘Blue Moon’ are among his finest moments, and of course, the lettering on the front eventually inspired the cover of The Clash’s London Calling.
Elvis (1956)
Every facet of Elvis’ influences are on display here – from Gospel to R&B to Pop to Country. But it’s all Elvis – confident, playful, but masterly. Tracks like ‘Rip It Up’, ‘Love Me’ and ‘Paralyzed’ are as good as his best work but much less well known.
From Elvis In Memphis (1969)
A pure blue-eyed soul album before the phrase was coined, Elvis In Memphis has an authentic and heartfelt vibe that was sorely missing from much of his latter day work.
Elvis Country (I’m 10,000 Years Old) (1971)
The King goes back to his country roots, with surpisingly pleasing results. As allmusic.com explains, “He was cutting songs that he was either very impressed with at the moment or had loved for a lot of years, but they were all songs he cared about, which gives him a commanding and charismatic vocal presence.”
Aloha from Hawaii via Satellite (1972)
A strong representation of Elvis’ famous 70′s live show. A number of schmaltzy cover songs (‘Something’ ‘My Way’ ‘Steamroller Blues’) threaten to pull the proceedings down, but the opening sequence, including the 2001: A Space Odyssey theme, ‘See See Rider’, and ‘Burning Love’ more than make up for it. As the cover art says in so many languages, “Nous aimons Elvis.”
Having Fun With Elvis On Stage (1974)
This album of nothing but stage banter is a collectors-only kind of item, but it’s a doozy. An impossibly great talisman of how far the Elvis marketing machine had spread by the early 70′s – Col. Parker and Co. were packaging and selling his lame jokes for crying out loud. This one’s valuable for obvious reasons (ie, none were actually sold).
The Sun Sessions (1976)
The Rosetta Stone of Rock & Roll, this album is more than just a historical exercise. Rocking his way through a number of tracks that touch on all manner of influences, Elvis’ energy and enthusiasm will astound those only familiar with his later work. Mesmerizingly good.
Memories: The ’68 Comeback Special (1998)
Of this television special that virtually invented the concept of ‘comeback’, writer Jon Landau said “There is something magical in watching a man who had lost himself find his way home.” After eight years on the sidelines of serious music, Elvis showed that he still had it.
Today, Tomorrow & Forever (2002)
This four disc box set collected 100 rare and previously unreleased tracks to commemorate the 25th anniversary of Presley’s death. From his first studio recordings to his last sessions, this box has a little bit of everything and remains the definitive collection for the above-average fan.
Elv1s: 30 #1 Hits (2002)
Finally collecting all of Elvis’ #1′s in one place, this welcome compilation had an added bonus: the JXL remix of ‘A Little Less Conversation’ went to #1 itself in 20 countries and proved that Elvis’ voice and energy remain utterly contemporary.
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