On The Fence: The Mix Up

Is the Beastie Boys’ latest album a laid-back, lightweight funk gem, or the first below-average album of their career? I’ve been spinning this record pretty regularly over the last couple of months, and – depending on the day of the week I’m listening – think that each of those assessments has merit. What do you think?

THUMBS UP: The Beastie Boys have always made bold artistic leaps instead of just turning out the same album over and over again, so it’s hardly surprising that they would follow their most serious album (2004′s To The 5 Boroughs) with perhaps their lightest. This funky instrumental album has been savaged by reviewers, but mainly (and pretty obviously) because it doesn’t fit the critics’ expectations of what a Beasties’ album should sound like. If this music had been released as a reissue by an obscure 70′s funk outfit, chances are those same reviewers would be falling all over themselves to praise these churning, three minute chunks of funky goodness. Nobody will ever confuse this with the Beasties’ best work, but taken on its own merits, this is a fine album and a pretty good time.

THUMBS DOWN: The Mix Up isn’t terrible, but it’s pretty clearly the least exciting album of the group’s storied career. It’s full of pleasant songs that get locked into simple grooves and don’t really go anywhere. On its surface, this isn’t a serious issue, except that there are bands out there that do a much better job with this type of music (Galactic being one example). But more to the point, there’s a whole bunch of funk out there that is the real deal. Most kids who buy The Mix Up have probably never heard (or heard of) a band like The Bar-Kays, whose music absolutely eviscerates this album and makes it sound like bad elevator music made by white boys. And that’s the crux of the problem: the Beasties are near the top of the heap in hip-hop, but when it comes to funk, these guys are just playing around.

[It's time to share your opinion. The internet is pretty good for this sort of thing, so don't make me come to your front door just to hear what you think...]

Masterpiece: Some Girls

[Today: One of the albums that made my dad's bachelor pad swing...]

My parents got divorced in 1980, way before it was the fashionable thing to do. In fact, all of my 10 year old friends’ parents were still married, so I was entering into uncharted territory, and wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. I knew one upside of the whole thing: no more parents fighting, and that couldn’t be a bad thing. The big downside, of course, is that I saw much less of my dad (although in truth he’d worked odd hours for years, so it wasn’t as much of a shock as it could have been). When my brother and I did see him, we would usually spend the weekend at his apartment near Main St in “downtown” Springfield.

His place was a simple one bedroom that was still very much in the 70′s. Wall-to-wall white shag carpet. Sparkly stuff stuck in the popcorn finish on the ceiling. Huge poofy pillows instead of a couch. And of course, the requisite hi-fi system and a big box of records (he and my mom at some point divided their record collection – I’d give my left arm to have been a fly on the wall for that conversation). My brother and I, being spastic kids with more energy than options, played with those records endlessly. I’m convinced that my life as a crazy music fan and record collector was more or less hatched in the blue glow of my dad’s stereo receiver.

Among the Beatles, Eagles, Jim Croce, Billy Joel, Alice Cooper, Kool & The Gang, and Whispers records was one altogether different album that especially held our attention: The Stones’ Some Girls. The fact that the inner sleeve of the record was part of the outside design, and that the group members were in drag wearing lipstick was just too much for our combined 17 years to process. Also intriguing were the colored blocks that eerily filled some of the cut out faces. I thought this was intentional, implying the shallow nature of modeling (or however I would have expressed that at age 10). It was only years later that I found out the group had used famous actresses images without clearing the rights, and had to pull the original album art in favor of this colorful cut and paste cover up – the version of the sleeve that my brother and I were handling (see above).

Some Girls combined all of the elements of my dad’s record collection in just two album sides. It was disco, but it rocked. It was dangerous, but it was funny. It was endlessly interesting, but easy to understand. It’s a great album on its own merits, but for me this is an all-time masterpiece because it vividly conjures a time and place that is so long gone that it feels like it’s just my imagination…

Listen: Before They Make Me Run

Masterpiece: The Brandenburg Concertos

[Today: Some dude named Bach kicks it with strings...]

The story of the Brandenburg Concertos begins at a spa in Karlsbad, Germany around the year 1719, where two noblemen were hosting an olde school version of ‘battle of the bands’. The winning combo featured one JS Bach, and by way of complimenting him on his groovy sounds, the Margrave of Brandenburg suggested that Bach compose some music in honor of the Margrave’s homelands. Two years later, a Fed-Ex envelope (or whatever they were using back then) bearing several master tapes (see previous note) arrived at the Margrave’s humble abode. And that was how the Brandenburg Concertos came to be…

And a very good thing indeed for us, because there’s hardly a piece of music out there that’s better suited for blunting the hectic pace of our do-everything, always-connected, instant-bananas culture. A listen to these soothing concertos will not only reduce your blood pressure and stimulate activity in your brain, they are absolutely guaranteed to calm your jangled nerves after some idiot carpool driver causes your life to flash before your eyes three times during an eighteen minute commute – or at least they’re guaranteed to do that for me.

Which is a very roundabout way of saying that even after nearly 300 years, the Brandenburg Concertos can touch the human spirit in places that other music just can’t get to. Listen and see…

Listen: Brandenburg Concerto #1 – in F

Buried Treasure: The Remains

[Today: Mid-60's Boston band make one incredible album, break up before it's even released...]

‘They coulda been huge’ is the oldest cliche in the book when it comes to bands, and it’s usually saved to describe and explain bad breaks, bad decisions, and/or bad behavior. But in the case of The Remains, those four words hang over the group’s legacy like a ghost, because all available evidence suggests that these guys SHOULDA been huge. They were doing well enough in 1966 to be chosen as the opening act for a tour with a group of lads from England called The Beatles. But after a mere three weeks on the road supporting the Fab Four, the group split, right before this – their self-titled debut – was to be released.

And what an album it is – the 16 tracks play out as one continuous string of two and a half minute gems. Only a sludgy reading of ‘Lonely Weekends’ (which should highlight the perils of taking on Charlie Rich) keeps this album from attaining pure perfection. Because they were anthologized on the legendary Nuggets compilation, The Remains have been conveniently labeled as a ‘garage’ band, but they were much tighter (and louder) than their more psychedelic breathren. Lead singer Barry Tashian sings like a guy playing tough to hide a heavy case of heartbreak, and the band (including William Henry Briggs III’s stellar keyboards) blast through every song like they’re stuck on fast forward.

Over time, many people (including himself) have questioned Tashian’s decision to end the group when he did. Perhaps The Remains walked away from a chance at stardom – we’ll never know for sure – but they left us with one nearly perfect album that continues to sound better as the years go on.

Listen: Why Do I Cry

Hidden In Plain Sight Too: 10 More Albums That Don’t Get Their Due

Who knows why these things happen? Some albums just can’t catch a break, and for a variety of reasons, don’t get the amount of critical or popular respect that they deserve. Here are ten that I think are worth a second listen and some serious reappraisal. Once again, I’m keeping this list to artists that are generally well-known enough that your mom might recognize the names…

Beck * Mutations

Why it gets shorted: It came right after Odelay, which is pretty much Beck’s benchmark album. The introspective, dour songs prefaced the gloom and doom of 2002′s Sea Change.

What’s great about it: A very strong crop of songs that are effectively avant garde and poetic. It’s the aural equivalent of listening to a Salvador Dali painting.

Better than: Everything he’s done except Odelay, Guero, and The Information.

Paul Simon * Rhythm Of The Saints

Why it gets shorted: This album came after his landmark album (note a trend, besides me using adjectives that end in -mark?) Graceland. No real hit singles to hang your hat on here.

What’s great about it: On the whole, a much more satisfying realization of the sound of Simon’s infatuation with African music than this album’s more popular counterpart. It has held up extremely well over time, while the overplayed singles on Graceland seriously date that album. [PS - note the great 'cut bin' hole on the picture - which I pulled from Amazon.com!]

Better than: Everything else in his catalogue, in my opinion.

Public Enemy * Apocalypse ’91: The Enemy Strikes Black

Why it gets shorted: Yet again, it came right after their strongest work – It Takes A Nation Of Millions… and Fear Of A Black Planet. On balance, this album is angrier and more political than either of its more well-known brethren.

What’s great about it: A steady succession of hard-hitting songs about slave ships, liquor dealers and bringin’ noise make this – like Paul Simon’s Rhythym Of The Saints – the more perfect realization of the group’s vision than its more celebrated counterparts. And please note – this is the only blog on earth that dares to compare Paul Simon and Public Enemy.

Better than: Not better than their best work, but certainly as good as anything else they’ve done.

Steely Dan * Gaucho

Why it gets shorted: Perhaps I should have named this column “albums that came after artists’ best albums” – this one came after Aja, which people spend an unnecessary amount of time drooling over. Also, ‘Glamour Profession’ and the title track are pretty silly, unless you’re stoned.

What’s great about it: ‘Babylon Sisters’ is epic, for one thing. Also, this was the album when the ironic glint in the Dan’s eye dimmed a bit, and it was obvious that they were a group on the edge, and the party of the 70′s was over. Many critics damn this album for that reason, but that’s what makes it great to me. [In fact this was one of my staple albums from '95 to '97 and I practically wore out the grooves on my dollar vinyl copy.]

Better than: Again, not better than – but as good as – their best stuff.

Joni Mitchell * The Hissing Of Summer Lawns

Why it gets shorted: While this did come after her uber-celebrated Court & Spark, it was a huge left turn away from that sound. This was where Mitchell began losing traction with her audience, and she steadily retreated into ever more musically obtuse corners.

What’s great about it: ‘The Jungle Line’ is absolutely incredible. This lush, pounding song sampled African drums in 1975 (take that Paul Simon!) and is worth the price of admission alone. And give her credit, she could have spent 20 years cranking out Court & Spark clones, but decided to take some chances instead. And for major bonus points, this is reportedly Prince’s (the artist & symbol) favorite album of all-time.

Better than: Everything in her catalogue but Court & Spark.

Willie Nelson & Leon Russell * One For The Road

Why it gets shorted: Willie cranks out about two albums each year, so it’s pretty hard for any but his most devoted fans to even keep up with his current stuff – let alone go dipping 30 years into the past.

What’s great about it: Willie & Leon = two great voices that sound great together.

Better than: Anything he’s produced in the last two decades.

Little Feat * The Last Record Album

Why it gets shorted: The cover art on this album is a poor sister to some of Neon Park’s artwork that is so associated with the group. Also, there’s nothing here that has ever troubled any of their ‘greatest hits’ albums.

What’s great about it: This is the sound of Lowell George and company locked into a solid groove, start to finish. There’s nothing even remotely unlikable on this album.

Better than: Sailin’ Shoes, which seems strangely overrated to me.

Van Morrison * Into The Music

Why it gets shorted: Van was pretty uneven – to say the least – from the mid-seventies until the mid-eighties.

What’s great about it: A knockout set that finds Van The Man sounding loose, confident, and swinging. This is truly one of those ‘why don’t I listen to this more often?’ albums.

Better than: Anything else from his late-70′s/early-80′s period.

The Kinks * Muswell Hillbillies

Why it gets shorted: Not nearly as good as their mid-60′s work, but not nearly as bad as the 70′s work that this album generally gets lumped in with.

What’s great about it: Lots of great songs, and the ‘concept’ around this album was loose enough that it didn’t weigh the whole thing down like most of their 70′s output, such as Schoolboys In Disgrace and Soap Opera.

Better than: Anything that came after, if you get right down to it.

The Beach Boys * Surf’s Up

Why it gets shorted: This couldn’t be further from the sunshine and surfin’ good times that the 60′s Beach Boys represented.

What’s great about it: Exactly what repelled people from it back in the day. This is the sound of the sixties dying in a murky, oily mixture of pollution, police sirens, and indifference. ‘Feel Flows’ would have been the perfect song to play at midnight on December 31st, 1969.

Better than: Everything in their catalogue except Pet Sounds.

A Musician’s Life – The Cover Art

Here’s the cover art for my compilation A Musician’s Life. The subtitle – “20 Songs About The People Who Sing Them” – explains the concept. Every song here comments on the life of a performer; the grind of the road, the businessmen trying to get rich, the groupies laying in wait, and much more. In short, it isn’t always a pretty picture, but it’s loaded with good stories. [On a side note, one interesting thing I learned during this exercise is that nearly every Lynyrd Skynyrd song is about being in Lynyrd Skynyrd.]

For the cover, I mimicked the design of Life magazine. I picked up the elements of their modern design (not that different from their classic look), but kept the cover photos black and white, and used simple white type to give it a classic feeling. I created three different covers that all sat together inside the same jewel case, giving the listener the option of which cover they’d like to look at.

Front cover A:

Inside of cover A:

Front cover B:

Inside of cover B:

Front cover C:

Inside of cover C:

Here’s the back cover:

And here’s the playlist:

Bread * The Guitar Man
Bob Seger * Turn The Page
Willie Nelson * Me & Paul
Lee Hazlewood * The Performer
Pink Floyd * Have A Cigar
The Byrds * So You Want To Be A Rock ‘N’ Roll Star
A Tribe Called Quest * Show Business
Lynyrd Skynyrd * What’s Your Name
AC/DC * It’s A Long Way To The Top (If You Want To Rock & Roll)
Guns & Roses * Mr. Brownstone
Eminem * Lose Yourself
The White Stripes * Little Room
Frank Zappa * Joe’s Garage
Cypress Hill * (Rock) Superstar
The Rolling Stones * The Under Assistant West Coast Promotion Man
The Kinks * Session Man
Johnny Cash * I’ve Been Everywhere
M. Ward * Paul’s Song
Elton John * Tiny Dancer
Peter, Paul & Mary * Leaving On A Jet Plane

And finally, here’s the inspiration:

On The Fence: Great Gonzos! The Best Of Ted Nugent

Is Ted Nugent a forgotten 70′s guitar god or the personification of the brainless, macho posturing that has plagued hard rock since its inception? Your pragmatic, carefully thought-out reflections on Mr. Nugent’s art will help me determine whether I need more Nuge in my life, or if this album should be filed under ‘adios amigo’…

THUMBS UP: Ted Nugent can play some guitar. Plain and simply, the guy knows his way around a lick, and the evidence is all over this album, as well as his work with the late-60′s combo The Amboy Dukes. Love him or hate him, one listen to ‘Stranglehold’ confirms that the Nuge had some serious skills and could sustain the excitement of a guitar lick over the course of a 10 minute song every bit as skillfully as Jimmy Paige Page. And if that doesn’t convince you, take a guess as to who was the top grossing touring act of 1977, 78, and 79? None other than the man himself…

THUMBS DOWN: ‘Wang Dang Sweet Poontang’. ‘Yank Me Crank Me’. ‘Wango Tango’. ‘Dog Eat Dog’. Needless to say, nobody ever confused this guy with existential philosophy. We’ve all seen his bow-hunting/uber-conservative/jackass-maximus act on television, and frankly, his songs – hot licks and all – pull about 10 watts on the brainpower scale. But most damningly, Nugent is the perfect MP3 artist. His ‘greatest hits’ contains at most four songs that are worth owning – even if you’re a hardcore Nuge-head (can such a thing possibly exist?). Good, but not great…

[After a protracted, ugly strike that saw them confronted by pipe-wielding Pinkertons, the vote-tabulating elves are back on duty this week. Don't make their picket line ordeals for naught - make your opinion known, and give them back the dignity of work...]

Masterpiece: Highway To Hell

[Today: AC/DC lay down the perfect soundtrack for quitting your job, partying the night away, or both...]

I gave two weeks notice at my lousy job today, and let me tell you, it felt AWESOME! I’ve been working in a creative slaughterhouse (ie, writing copy for a giant software manufacturer) for the last three and a half years, and it was definitely time to move on. Of course, it’s a beautiful Friday in the Bay Area, the birds are singing and the bees are buzzing, so after I dropped my notice I sat through a mind-numbing meeting and then left the office to get an early start on the rest of my life. I grabbed a six pack of beer on the way home, and immediately fired up Highway To Hell when I waltzed through the door at 3pm.

AC/DC was a staple band for me in high-school, and more than almost* every other group that I liked back then, they’ve stuck with me. In my opinion, the Bon Scott version of this group is the best hard rock band of all-time. Their lyrical content is pretty juvenile, but Bon was a belter second-to-none and Malcolm and Angus Young’s riffs were, are, and always will be capital-M Monster. It’s also to their credit that they weren’t serving up the typical wizards&demons metal that’s been so deftly parodied by the likes of Tenacious D.

The title of this album was generally misinterpreted to signify some sort of pact with the dark lord, but in reality it was just the band’s metaphor for the bone-wearying, non-stop grind of touring and promoting their albums. Highway To Hell would turn out to be their breakthrough album, but the group that worked up these songs was frayed and tired, and badly in need of a break.

Fellas, I know the feeling.

Listen: If You Want Blood (You’ve Got It)

*[Prince and INXS are the only other artists I can think of that I play with the same frequency now as I did back then, fyi]

Buried Treasure: Bleecker & MacDougal

[Today: The underrated voice...]

How does it feel to be rolled up in the gutter like a bum and left for dead? Fred Neil knows, and he’s got the songs to prove it. On his outrageously, tragically, under-Fing-rated 1965 gemstone Bleecker & MacDougal, he sings in a hybrid Folk/Pop/Blues style that captures the best parts of all those genres. The Blues were hardwired into his voice, but he honed his songwriting skills through hard work. As a former Brill Building writer/drone, he learned how to construct a song for maximum effect. He was also a fixture on the early 60′s Greenwich Village folk scene (along the way mentoring a young Bob Dylan, o’ by the way) and this nightly exposure to a live audience gave him the breadth of material and command thereof to form the backbone of a truly formidable album. That album was Bleecker & MacDougal.

How does it feel to be one of the most underrated songwriters of all-time? As luck would have it, Fred Neil knows the answer to that one too…

Listen: Bleecker & MacDougal

[It's worth noting the the Sundazed 180 gram vinyl reissue of this album is a pretty snazzy package that sounds great and can be had for minimal $$ from your local purveyor of sound recordings... or e-bay.]

The P Speaks: Bleecker & MacDougal, Take 2

[My wife, The P, has forgotten more about music than I will ever know. She has her own very distinct tastes and opinions, and has agreed to share some of the latter here. It's probably worth mentioning that she actually introduced me to the music of Fred Neil...]

[I feel compelled to chime in on this album, as I stumbled upon Fred Neil before I stumbled upon dk.]

There are 13 songs on this fantastic album… and Fred Neil wrote 12 of them. From the opening harmonica rally, the listener is sucked into the turmoil of a homesick man. You can thank John Sebastian, founder of the Lovin’ Spoonful for the harmonica – one of his first gigs was this album. (Yes, that was before Mr. Sebastian acheived fame (and fortune?) recording the Welcome Back Kotter theme.) While we’re stuck in this sidebar, let’s introduce the rest of the band… On stage right, on bass, the late, great Mountain bassist (think Mississippi Queen) and Cream producer Felix Pappalardi (later shot by his wife in 1983…) And let’s not overlook the other bass player on stage left, Douglas Farthing Hatlelid aka Chip Douglas, who grew up to be a member of the Turtles (recorded Happy Together) and the producer of some of the Monkees biggest hits, including Daydream Believer and Pleasant Valley Sunday. Pete Childs, who provides guitar and dobro on this album, went on to record with Don McLean, Peter Paul + Mary, and others, in addition to being an environmental activitist.

And behind the mixing board, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Paul Rothchild. Rothchild began his career on the Boston folk scene, before becoming house producer for Jac Holzman’s Elektra Records in 1963. He produced albums and singles by Tom Paxton, Tom Rush, The Paul Butterfield Blues Band, The Lovin’ Spoonful, Tim Buckley, Love and Janis Joplin (including her final LP Pearl and her only no. 1 single, Me and Bobby McGee.) He is best known as the producer of all the albums by The Doors, except for their last, LA Woman, when Rothchild withdrew from the production after disagreeing over the album’s direction.

But wait, this is about Fred Neil…

So, surrounded by stars in the making, Ol’ Fred incorporated attitude, dreams, and melody into this album, his debut. Recorded in New York City, young Mr. Neil (28 at the time) pines to be anywhere else, away from the blues brought on by the big city, perpetually seeking his lost love(s), and threatening to get back on the road to greener pastures (or the Gulf of Mexico, whichever comes first).

You waltz in here
With a handful of gimme
A mouthful of much obliged

Raised in Florida, Fred Neil was exposed to music (and travel) from a young age – his father worked for (the mighty) Wurlitzer, the jukebox manufacturer, and he sometimes took Fred along when he traveled to nightspots in the south. Neil moved to the Big Apple in the 1950s; during the day, he wrote songs for music publishers at the Brill Building, by night, he was integral fabric of the Greenwich Village coffeehouses. Roy Orbison recorded Neil’s Candy Man as a single in 1961, and royalty income from this Top 40 hit (paired with a modest frugality) allowed Fred a decent life in New York.

After this (drumless!) album, named for the streets at the epicenter of the folk music scene in Greenwich Village, came out in 1965, Fred Neil moved to Coconut Grove with his wife Linda. He was enigmatic and reclusive once he left the New York folk scene. He occassionally performed to benefit the Dolphin Project, an action group that he cofounded on (the first) Earth Day in 1970 dedicated to the abolition of dolphin captivity. His baritone vocal and 12-string guitar are well protrayed on most of the songs on this album, and I’m surprised more people haven’t covered the soulful Other Side of This Life.

Would you like to know a secret
It’s just between you and me
I don’t know where I’m going next
I don’t know where I’m gonna be

But that’s the other side to this life I’ve been leading
But that’s the other side of this life

In late 1966 he recorded Fred Neil – with Nik Venet, of Beach Boys fame. Sessions followed in 1968 and Other Side of This Life in 1971. He was offered the opportunity to re-record Everybody’s Talkin in 1969 for the Midnight Cowboy soundtrack but declined. Ooops. Harry Nilsson made it a huge hit, but the Neils were able to live in seclusion off the songwriting royalties. He worked one more album for Columbia in 1973 – the sessions were never released. Neil made his last appearance with Jackson Browne, Richie Havens, and others at a benefit concert in Japan in 1977.

Fred Neil died of cancer at his home in Summerland Key, Florida, on July 7, 2001, but he lives large in our house.

And if I look back
I will remember all the good times
Warm days filled with sunshine
And just a little bit of rain
And just a little bit of rain

Bleecker + McDougal
Elektra Records, 1965
the players + the layers:
Fred Neil – vocals + guitar
Pete Childs – 2nd guitar + dobro
John Sebastian – harmonica
Felix Pappalardi/Douglas Hatlelid – bass
Paul Rothchild – director

Listen: Little Bit Of Rain