February 8, 2010

Valentine's Day in Paris, the Big Mistake and Secret Subterranean Blues...

Ah, Paris. The city of love...a perfect place to take your wife for Valentine's day. How could a guy go wrong? I'll tell you how: He invites one of his best friends to just happen to show up and join the fun.

In 2002, my first year of marriage, I did just that. My wife and I were living in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. I decided to orchestrate a Valentine's Day three-day weekend in Paris. It was a special trip: our first Valentine's Day as a married couple. I knew The Wife would be happy. She had been to Paris before and talked about how much she loved the city. I had never been to Paris and was looking forward to it.

I organised a great first night (which was the actual Valentine's Day). I bought two tickets to the midnight showing at the Moulin Rouge. That was the first of the two "Big Surprises" that I kept telling The Wife I had for her on the trip. That one went over very well. First night in Paris was an epic success and quite a romantic evening.

Day Two was when "Big Surprise #2" was expected. After the Moulin Rouge, The Wife was expecting Big things. I was confident that she would love Big Surprise #2. Even before the trip I thought it was going to be a hit. In hindsight, I may have thought this because Big Surprise #2 was a surprise I would have loved to have sprung on me!

I fucked up. Capital-R, Royally. This was Valentine's Day...in Paris...as newlyweds...for only three days...just the two of us...or so she thought. I invited my good buddy, The Rouster (name changed to protect the guilty) to surprise Julie by showing up at the Louvre at the same time we were there (what a coincidence!).

Let me repeat: I invited one of my best friends, drinking buddy, trouble-making twin, to surprise my wife while she was on a romantic holiday weekend with her husband in Paris. What was I thinking? What THE HELL was I thinking?!?

I remember telling my old man about my plan. When I did, he just stared at me with pupils the size of manhole covers. "Are you stupid?", he asked. "She is going to hate this idea".

I was dumbfounded. She liked The Rouster. She really enjoyed all the times we went out together and had said so often. Like me, she hadn't seen him since he moved to South Korea two years earlier. Why wouldn't she want to see him? He was coming back to the States for a visit anyhow, so a rendezvous made sense.

"Judd", my old man said to me as he fixed that you've really done it this time stare on me, "do you really think (The Wife) wants to be surprised by one of your craziest, beer swillingest friends...in Paris...on Valentine's Day?"

"Oh, shit!? What have I done", I said to myself.

Long story short: Big Surprise #2 blew up in my face. The Wife was not all too happy to be sharing time with The Rouster that could have otherwise been spent on L'Amour with L'Wife.

It took some tears and beers, but I smoothed things over and we carried on with our Paris fun. Like I said, The Wife and the The Rouster are good friends. There was no option but to act like the true Champions of Fun that we knew each other to be and get on with getting down.

We decided to have a red hot go at the Latin Quarter on our last night. We went out for sushi and sake and then searched the streets to find the pulse of the city...and a bit of live music. We were walking down a busy street and heard blues music coming out of a small pub. We looked inside and couldn't see where the band was. The pub was small (maybe 20 ft by 40 ft) and packed with people. Where the hell was the band?

We went inside and had the barkeep pull a few pints for us. I was about to ask where the band was when I saw a closed circuit TV hanging from the wall with musicians playing on it...but where the hell were they. In the back of the pub there was doorway. That doorway led to a staircase down to the cellar. Ah! That's where the band was!

We struck gold. The cellar looked like someone went down earlier that day with a jack-hammer and banged out a cave big enough for a stage and a makeshift bar. There were two rooms. In the main room there was the stage and assorted chairs, tables and church pews strewn about. The other room was smaller, but important...it was where the beer taps were.

The scene was fantastic. The timing was spot on. We were Pros. We were professional subterranean scene seekers and we just hit the mother-load. I spent a lot of my youth reading about the days of yore when the R&R got it's passport and spent time traipsing Europe. Stories of scenes such as this one seem to be the norm, each one hipper than the last. True underground...that's where we were and that's what we were.

(The stage in the cellar)

It was a Sunday night. Sunday night was (and still is) the open Blues Jam night. Ah, the Jam. Everybody loves a blues jam, right? Drums, piano, harp, guitars...as many as the stage can hold. They all lurch out in a crude and chaotic cacophonic stupor, stalking each other until they find the communal groove.

(me and The Rouster, 2002)

Who knows what can happen when the Jam is on...sparks strike and legends are born. The crowd thought we had a birthing right there and then. There was this young kid...he must have been 15 if he wasn't 12. he jumped up on stage with the "house" band and strapped on someone's guitar. Oh man! We were knocked out loaded once he started to play!

He was tearing frets and slamming the slide and seemed to do it with the wisdom of a guitar god. The floor was littered with jaws. This kid could play and the crowd let him know it. People were screaming out, "Le Petite Clapton". Hot Damn! What a night.

We left around 2am. The Wife and I had to catch a few winks for our 8am flight back to the US. The Rouster stayed on in Paris to carry on the V-Tine's Day celebration for a few nights with a new sweetheart he met at the hostel. No love lost in Paris that Valentine's Day.

This past weekend, The Wife and I took the train to Paris for the day. Almost eight years to the day, we visited that bar. We hoisted beers and toasted to Big Surprises, good friends and the sweet joy of serendipity.

(me, returning to the Scene of the Crime this past weekend)

(The Sunday night Blues Jam lives on)

_____

The name of the joint in question is: Le Caveau des Oubliettes (check link for details). Here is a snippet from a National Geographic travel blog on the pub:

In medieval times, Le Caveau des Oubliettes, which translates to "the cave of the forgotten," held prisoners awaiting the guillotine. The tight door and thick stone walls masked the prisoners' wails and howls. Iron handcuffs on the walls, chains along the staircase, and a barred window remind listeners of the room's past and give the intimate club an uniquely eerie feel.

Funny, I think I saw a couple of those guys there that night...

_____

Speaking of the Blues Jam & Eric Clapton, here is a jam from the anniversary edition of Layla.

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Filed under // Blues Eric Clapton Music Paris Riffs The Rouster The Wife

Posted from Paris, France

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January 31, 2010

The Klieg Light Club: When great artists go from "true to form" to "true to formula"

Recently I posted about keeping it simple in 2010. Let's chalk this one up as a sequel to that post. This time it's about keeping it real in 2010.

_____

Have you seen the movie Precious?

Yes? [collective exhaling, wide-eyed looks and shaking of the heads]

No? Well then, you must see this movie. It is a harrowing story about the human will and the extreme, extremely extreme, challenges it can endure. The movie has been much talked about in the media and on blogs. In a flick filled with shocking moments, one of the most shocking is the performance of Mariah Carey.

Everyone knows who Mariah Carey is, right? Yes, of course we do. She is known as a self-indulgent, high-maintenance, look-at-me, glamour-puss. In Precious she played a run-of-the-mill social worker. For the role, Carey stripped off her Diva persona and played the ugly duckling. In her own words:

"I had to lose all vanity," Carey said. "I had to change my demeanor, my inside, layers of who I am, to become that woman."

Oh my, Mariah. Oh, my. Where to start...? Let's start with the "layers of who I am" part of that statement. How crazy is this shit? She really believes she has these "layers". Is this a bad case of the stardom flu or is she serious. My guess is that she thinks she is serious. My guess is that she thinks that people don't understand that she is a real person underneath it all. My guess is that she thinks that moonbeams and winged unicorns shoot from her ass every-time she farts.

The ironic thing here is that Mariah thinks that she is acting in this movie when, in actuality, it may be her most real performance yet. As I sat in the theatre watching this, I thought to myself, "damn, she seems normal...why doesn't she come off this way all the time"? Forget the no make-up haggard appearance, it was her likability that got me. Why does she chose (yes, choose) to come off so damn self-important and narcissistic in the press?

She is caught in the crossfire of the klieg lights. She was a earnest singer with pipes that dominated the charts. Now she is a indulgent Diva with performances that overwhelm the gossip rags. Just like so many artists, be they actors or musicians, Mariah lost her essence.

How many others has this happened to? Countless. Here is one that comes to mind:

Rod Stewart: Wow. Rod used to be a rocker. He had swagger. He had rough edges. He had the last laugh. Now he is a laughingstock. Has there ever been a career that has experienced such a downward spiral. Seriously. He started out with Long John Baldry, fronted the Jeff Beck Group (brilliantly), led the almighty Faces, absolutely nailed five out of his first six solo albums (Smiler being the lone dud), and then... what the fuck happened? He became a star, that's what happened. Klieg lights...everywhere.

After "A Night on the Town" he started to fall apart. All of his rough edges became polished and glossy and he fell into the glits and glam of the '70's slipstream. He went pop chart and disco with "Footloose & Fancy Free" and "Blondes Have More Fun". He became fodder for urban legends involving blow-jobs and stomach pumping. He limped into the '80's with infrequent blips on the charts with songs hearkening back to days of yore. He rekindled old flames with live albums of old hits. And now...now he sells albums of covers songs to baby boomers, who, like Rod, think that almost is good enough. Yuck.

The Good (the very good)

The Bad

The Ugly

I feel dirty after that last video. I need to go play "Gasoline Alley" front to back right now to restore my faith in the gravel-throated goodness that once was Rod Stewart.

Who else belongs in the Klieg Lights Club?

Elton John (the earliest stuff was so damn earnest)
Robbie Robertson (stop with the Indian albums and the movie producing and put out the classic you know you have in you..please!)
Stephen Stills (so much talent + so much meandering = coulda, shoulda, woulda)
Mick Jagger (solo stuff specifically)
Aerosmith (Dude looks like a train-wreck...)
Gregg Allman (he lost his way when he lost Duane...Allman and Woman? Check out that link...WTF is that album cover all about!?! Come on?! That never would have happened it Duane was still alive).

On the flip-side, there are those who have stayed true to the course. A sampling of the many that are in the Real Deal club:

John Fogerty
Tom Petty
Levon Helm
Bruce Springsteen
Tom Waits
Roger McGuinn
Keith Richards (solo albums and guest-star appearances seal the deal)
Neil Young (They King of Them All Y'All...in fact, he may deserve his own club)

What do you think about those lists. Agree? You have any additions to either one?

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Filed under // Bruce Springsteen Elton John Gregg Allman John Fogerty Keith Richards Klieg Lights Club Levon Helm Mick Jagger Music neil young Real Deal Club riffs Robbie Robertson Rod Stewart Roger McGuinn Stephen Stills Tom Petty Tom Waits

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January 26, 2010

T-Bone Burnett: making soundtracks is like solving a mystery

Great article by the Houston Chrinicle on T-Bone Burnett. If I knew the what I know now, I would have been a music producer.

I love the stories of producers who turn studio sessions into legendary tales of craft, curation and celebration all in the name of the music and artist. T-Bone: I'm ready for a mentor. Pass the secrets on and I'll keep That Feel alive. Call me: +44 0776 929 3333. Read the blog and decide if I'm worthy.

In the article, the list of artists T-Bone is currently working with is mouthwatering (pass me a beer and some headphones). I'm on hot coals for that Gregg Allman disc now!
_____

T-Bone Burnett: Making soundtrack like solving mystery

By ANDREW DANSBY STAFF WRITER (Jan. 24, 2010)

Three weeks into the new year T-Bone Burnett was already collecting trophies. The producer won a Golden Globe for The Weary Kind, a song co-written with Ryan Bingham that Burnett produced for the film Crazy Heart. It will very likely draw an Academy Award nomination on Feb. 2 and could very well earn Burnett an Oscar to go with his formidable collection of Grammys. Speaking of Grammys, he's nominated for producer of the year, with the results being announced Sunday. This after taking home golden gramophones last year for Raising Sand, the album Burnett produced for Alison Krauss and Robert Plant, and the One Kind Favor, the best album B.B. King has made in decades.

If Burnett seems due for a break, it's not coming soon. He's producing a spate of albums this year, which are in various stages of completion. Willie Nelson's Country Music is among them. It will be released April 13.

“It's real old stuff that he's been singing his whole life,” Burnett says. “Old, old music, surprisingly old music. We did some deep digging for Willie. It's country, but old-school.”

Steve Earle, another musician with Texas ties, picked Burnett for his next album. Burnett calls Earle “a great record-maker in his own right, so I'm very excited to be working with him.”

In March, Bingham will begin recording his next album with Burnett. Also in the works is a collaborative album between legendary piano men Leon Russell and Elton John, the second solo album by Jakob Dylan and a new recording by Gregg Allman that Burnett calls “so superbad.”

“It's serious roadhouse blues and R&B, '50s and '60s rhythm and blues,” Burnett says. “Texas will love this record.”

Burnett has been based in L.A. for years, which makes sense since he's so often called on to work on films, as he did with Crazy Heart. But Burnett comes by his roots credibility honestly. Born Joseph Henry Burnett in St. Louis, he grew up in Fort Worth. He co-opted the surname of one of the state's most famous blues players and paired it with his family name, which is plenty bluesy itself.

Since the early 1970s, he's been a preserver and presenter of American roots music. Burnett played guitar on Bob Dylan's famed Rolling Thunder tour. He's played guitar on or produced albums by the following (along with many, many more): Dylan, Roy Orbison, Emmylou Harris, Los Lobos, Elvis Costello, Gillian Welch, Cassandra Wilson, John Mellencamp and Jimmie Dale Gilmore.

Burnett's own albums, often excellent, don't typically sell very well, so instead he's made his living diligently steering other artists. His work has ranged from pop bands with some rootsy elements (Counting Crows, the Wallflowers) to modern (but not too modern) recordings by legendary types including Ralph Stanley and B.B. King.

Perhaps its Burnett's semi-obscurity, his ability to set up a copacetic situation and then disappear, that allows him to work with so many Type-A artists. He suggests it's simpler, just multiple cases of mutual admiration between artist and producer.

“I do think I have a steady hand,” he says, “but my real secret is to work only with people who love you. (Laughs.) And work with people you love. Doing things with friends can be rewarding.”

“He's a great cat,” Bingham says. “He's a lot of fun to work with, and everything's relaxed. It seems like he's surrounded by people who have the same vibe. It gives you a cool environment to work in.”

But more than setting up fun playtime, Burnett has an ear acutely attuned to his subjects. He's able to nestle old legends into a musical nest created by longtime Burnett players like drummers Jay Bellerose and Jim Keltner, guitarist Marc Ribot, bassist Dennis Crouch and several others. What results isn't a rehash of a past nor is it so digitally modern as to lose its soul.

Take the King record. Burnett set up the blues legend with timeless blues songs written by the likes of his namesakes T-Bone Walker and Chester “Howlin' Wolf” Burnett, as well as blues greats like Lonnie Johnson, Furry Lewis and John Lee Hooker. The band featured a few Burnett regulars, pros who played with restraint, letting King's voice and guitar sell a group of songs often concerned with death. King, 82 at the time, had a masterpiece.

“He comes at music from a different angle than anybody else I've ever met,” says John Mellencamp, whose spare and somber 2008 album, Live Death Love Freedom, was produced by Burnett. “He knows more about the music of the '20s, '30s and '40s, which gives him a wealth of material for inspiration that most people just don't have access to.”

If Burnett has a secret, other than his exhaustive knowledge of roots music history, it might be found in the title of his last real studio recording, 2006's The True False Identity. Burnett suggests that making an album — either a soundtrack or an artist album — is about “creating an identity,” much as he took part in creating one for Crazy Heart's country singer Bad Blake.

In the case of the artists, he has a knack for reemphasizing that identity in a way that is new or feels new. With soundtracks, it's bundling songs together as he did with O Brother, Where Art Thou?in a way that serves the film but also holds together as a listenable set of songs.

“Your job is to create this identity, and you look for different parts of that identity, so it's like solving a mystery,” Burnett says. “But you also want to hold something back. You want to keep a little mystery for the listener. That's what makes these recordings interesting.”

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Filed under // Cosmic American Music Music Producer T-Bone Burnett

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January 25, 2010

Sympathy for the Devil: Keith Richards is going Cold Turkey

Now, he's had to kick habits here and there over the years. As Keef says, "four days of climbing walls ain't bad...it's the price of and education". But...can you image what over fifty years worth of super human wear and tear will bring when the almighty cluck of this cold turkey hits!?!

Now I know why Haiti had that earthquake! Pat Robertson was right! That earthquake was the direct result of a muscle spasm-ed leg kick from Keef when he was sweating out the 60's on a bare mattress in a cold dark room.

Sympathy for the devil, indeed. That poor bastard doesn't have a chance in hell while Keef's on the mend...

Keith Richard Gives Up the Booze (The Sun)

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Filed under // Booze Keith Richards Pills Powders

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January 24, 2010

B.B. King out Ya-Ya's the Stones: Why he sings the blues...because he can, dammit!

In December of 2009, the Stones put out a 40th anniversary box set of "Get Yer Ya-Ya's Out". In the deluxe versions, the sets from opening acts Ike & Tina Turner and B.B. King were included. If you need the low-down on the original "Ya-Ya's" set...I envy you. You are in for a treat, and, quite possibly, a life-changer. Where to start to find out about it? Start with Lester Bang's bow-down review of the original set from 1969.

If you are a Ya-Ya's fan like me, the deluxe set was a must buy. The remastered Stones tracks are worth the price alone. But...the real-deal, bow-down, shuck and jive toe tappers in this box set come from B.B. King.

The B.B. tracks are comprised of five smoking hot scene stealers. This is raw blues power. The performance is full-tilt from the horns to the rhythm section to the two stars of the show: Lucille and B.B.'s boom box vocals.

Buckle up and have a listen to one of those tracks that I have uploaded for you: "Why I Sing the Blues"

Lucille jump starts the track and the rhythm sections churns out a bedrock backbeat. B.B. belts out the lyrics in his tenor horn howl (you know that B.B. never sings and plays at the same time, right?).

At 1:58 in song, B.B. takes Lucille for a spin and rips off a solo sprint for over a minute. At the 3:30 mark, B.B. heads for the wings (this was the last song of the set before the encore). This is when the band takes over and lays down a stone groove...how fucking tight can one rhythm section be?!?

B.B., ever the crowd pleaser, comes out for a quick 30 seconds of guitar picking before the band pulls the emergency break and stops that groove dead in it's tracks (if only instruments had airbags).

But enough hot air from me...go ahead, hit play.

(download)

p.s. I love the way B.B.'s guitar sounds like a horn. More and more, as he gets on in age and style in his playing...I think Keith Richards plays like B.B.'s horn-ified guitar sound. To see/hear what I mean, check out the Scorsese docco, "Shine a LIght" (short clip below). Keith is honking his guitar like a chuck-riff saxo-trumpet.

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Filed under // B.B. King Blues Keith Richards Lester Bangs Music Riffs Rolling Stones Tune Treats

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January 23, 2010

10 lbs. of Shit in an 8 lbs. Bag: A request for keeping music simple in 2010

"Too much of anything is too much for me. Too much and everything gets too much for me". - The Who

That is a line from the chorus of the song of the same name, "Too Much of Anything". Strangely enough, this was a bonus track off the 1995 reissue of the always-delivers Who album, "Who's Next". I say "strangely" for two reasons: one, the original version of this album was nine songs of bow-down material and two, the fact that this song was a bonus track is fucking ironic.

Too much of anything, indeed.

Why the hell did we need bonus tracks for this masterstroke? We didn't. Pete & The Who made a brilliant, time-tested album that consisted of nine crowd pleasing, beer hoisting tunes. Nine. Here we go again...gorging ourselves on a great meal; bloated and reaching for the bicarbonates. Too much.

I am fed up with "too much". This year I am bringing it all back home: keeping everything as clean and simple as I need it to be. Near the end of 2009 I started to think about clarity: eliminating variables; reducing clutter; focusing on less to enjoy more.

I am not preaching purely simplicity for simple's sake. I am talking about clarity. Clarity doesn't sacrifice depth at simple's alter. "Focusing on less to enjoy more" is about clarity; lucidity. It is a concept that I am (forever forward) latching on to and enveloping myself in...including my music listening habits.

I find myself gravitating to music that is much more lucid and clean of complexities...but, not lacking depth. Case in point: the Black Keys' "Chulahoma: The Songs of Junior Kimbrough".

I am a Black Keys fan. They aren't always on my playlist, but I enjoy them from time to time. I did not own this album prior to my hearing it. Recently I was in a crowed and very loud bar. Nothing on the juke box was cutting through the din until I heard this album being played. Whoever was at the controls, decided that they need to play this album in its entirety. The groove was so pronounced and clear, it drowned out the noise in the room and filled all the spaces like a welcome mist. It felt calming and clean to me (even amongst all the clutter in the bar). I went out and bought it the next day.

Lucidity, clarity and depth are full frontal on this set of six songs. The straightforward, two-fisted, Corsican Brother drum and guitar approach of Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney lends itself to the clarity/simplicity + depth credo. There is no gratuitous flutes or overdubs or 16 track recordings...just two dudes, two instruments and a half a dozen of a simple bluesman's simple blues songs. By simple I mean uncomplicated, not simpleton or unsophisticated or naive. No, these songs have depth and sagacity.

Junior Kimbrough didn't make it on the blues scene until the 1990's, but he'd been cutting tracks as early as 1968. Junior was a Mississippi Hill Country native and legend. His blues is a hypnotic, sauntering groove that preaches a knowing simplicity and bares warts, proudly. This blues holds you in it's vibe and makes it hard to pull away. Every time I put it on, I know it is going to be a happening. I know I need to dedicate at least 20-30 minutes to it's gravity.

Here is a clip from Robert Palmer's brilliant expose on the raw, country blues: "Deep Blues". If you have not seen this, you MUST do so soon. More-so, read the book that preceded the movie. It is widely thought of as a classic in the genre; a career high for Robert Palmer in career filled with tall peaks.

(Junior also had the coolest album titles: "God Knows I Tried" & "Most Things Haven't Worked Out")

The Black Keys decided they needed to have a go at Junior's music. They gave it a richer, thicker sound...while keeping the ethos of it intact. They added to it without complicating it: less is more. This is my fave track of the set:

What do you think? Does that feel like less is more to you?

_____

Nine songs. I like that. "Who's Next" wasn't the only great album with nine songs: "Let It Bleed" had nine songs, too. That is my favorite album of all-time (a post for another day). Conversely, the Stone's 2005 Masterplunk, "A Bigger Bang", had 16(!) songs. Too much.

I'd like to make a request of all music makers in 2010: please, don't try to cram ten pounds of shit in an eight pound bag. Focus on reducing the clutter on your albums. Just because you can crowd16 songs on a CD doesn't mean you have to. I don't want more from you, I want less...and I want depth.

Excuse me while I go off to listen to some Charlie Patton...

_____

Regarding my personal thoughts on "too much":

Too much of my time was being wasted worrying about things I manufactured or labeled as important. Whether they were tasks or audacious (unattainable) goals or simply over thinking decisions or situations, the importance that I gave these things, put undue emphasis on them; one more thing I had to worry about.

Here is a bit, from a larger mindmap (on my 2010 thoughts), on "reducing the clutter"

You must have flash to see this embedded document.

(download)

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Filed under // 2010 Black Keys Blues Brevity Charley Patton clutter Junior Kimbrough Less More Music Rolling Stones The Who Tune Tags

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January 22, 2010

Lunch Break Lacquer: The search for Neil Young's "Ditch Trilogy" is now complete

Click here to download:

Lunch_Break_Lacquer_The_search.zip (497 KB)

I just got back from a jaunt over to one of Soho's (London) vinyl graveyards. I use my lunch break to seek out old records that need new life breathed into them. Today I feel like a regular Dr. Fronkensteen (not Frankenstein!).

I just picked up the last album I needed to complete Neil Young's so called, "Ditch Trilogy". Not familiar with the Ditch Trilogy? Well, this trilogy has nothing to do with Lost Arcs or Ewoks (not that we wouldn't expect Ol' Neil to pull that kinda stuff on us). No, this trilogy deals with something far more brooding and intoxicating: honey-slides, lost albums and pissing in the wind.

Here, listen to what friends at Thrasher's Wheat have to say about it:

Neil Young's three consecutive early 1970's albums "Time Fades Away", "On The Beach" and Tonight's The Night are considered by many fans the Rosetta Stone to understanding his entire body of work. Because of their dark, haunting brilliance, the albums are known as "The Ditch Trilogy".

In the often quoted hand written liner notes of Decade, Neil writes: " 'Heart of Gold' put me in the middle of the road. Traveling there soon became a bore so I headed for the ditch." Hence, the origin of the "Ditch" term -- which is sometimes also referred to as the "Doom" period or "The Wilderness Years".

Lots more where that came from: dig here for a deeper Ditch download.

When I got to London in September I found a copy of "Times Fades Away". A few months later, on another one of my Lunch Break Lacquer hunts, I found "Tonight's the Night". Today I found the last jewe in this dented crown: "On the Beach".

All three albums were original pressings. "Tonight's the Night" came with all the original goodies (see pic). "On the Beach" was served up the same way, complete with note from Rusty Kershaw and the orange-y yellow wallpaper on the inside of the gate fold (see pic).

Tonight will definitely be the night...I plan on playing these back-to-front and back-to-back-to-back in all their doom and gloom brilliance. Before I head home there is one more thing I need to make this chariot swing low...

"Tonight's the night; yes it is..."

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Filed under // London Lunch Music Neil Young Record Shops Vinyl

Posted from Camden Town, United Kingdom

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December 31, 2009

Last Minute Music: Dec albums I have purchased or been gifted in the waining moments of 2009

Top Live Album: This was a tough one with Neil, Petty & the Stones in the mix. I am going to have to go with BB King's set on the expanded "Get Yer Ya-Ya's Out". The way he captivates the audience is the mark of a true showman.

Coolest Find: "Home" by Delaney & Bonnie. I hadn't heard of this one. It was recorded at Stax Records (!) with Booker T. & The MGs backing them up. The Stax horn section kills on this set.

Rowdiest Blues: "I Got All You Need" by Koko Taylor. That chick was a powerhouse with serious attitude.

Coolest New Stuff: The Low Anthem. I can tell that I am going to get deep in this shit right quick.

Got me some new vinyl, too:

Neil Young: Tonight's the Night
Bo Diddley: The Black Gladiator
James Brown: In a Jungle Groove
Baby Huey: The Living Legend
Rod Stewart: Gasoline Alley & Every Picture Tells a Story
Bob & The Band: The Basement Tapes
Keith Richards: Talk is Cheap
Lightnin' Hopkins: Walkin' This Road by Myself
Booker T & The MGS: Green Onions

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Filed under // Blues Country December gifts Here & Now music vinyl

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December 17, 2009

A Judd's Juke Joint Xmas: A Holiday Happening from the Hills of Ol' N.H.

Here we go again...it is the time of year for sitting around the fireplace with family and reciting time tested tales of holiday cheer and christmas joy...unless you spend your xmas eves at Judd's Juke Joint!

Judd's Juke Joint:

Where we don't go caroling...we go carousing.
Where spreading cheer and drinking beer go hand-in-hand.
Where naughty and nice are our kind of girls.

That's right...Judd's Juke Joint is the place where all those who didn't make Santa's list go on xmas eve. Good kids gone bad; saints turned to sinners; losers and winners; everyone is invited and that means you.

About five or six years ago, I wrote a little story about what goes on during xmas eve at Judd's Juke Joint. Each year I share this with good friends who embody the JJJ spirit. We are a little family of freaks, weasels and Champions of Fun. This year, is different. This year I am sharing that with everyone....the extended 6149 family.

And why, not eh? Tradition is best when shared. What says tradition more than a time of year when we feed the capitalist retail pigs all the sludge they can eat from the trough by buying presents and flowers and trees for the wife and kiddies...and jewelry, crotchless panties and exotic trips for the mistress. Load up on gifts and then load up on the booze. A time honored tradition for sure.

Are you familiar with Judd's Juke Joint? It is a real-fake place that currently only exists in my mind. Someday soon, I will build it and you will come. Have a read here of what Judd's Juke Joint is all about (see you soon).
____

On with the show!

This is a tall tale, but one not too far from the truth. Some of the Juke Joint's regulars are called out by name: these people have true grit; charter members. Sure I copped the rhythm and the roll for this ditty from the famous "A Night before Christmas", but that is what makes it special and warms our hearts (and it is a qick gimmick, too).

The setting is a backwoods bar in the hills of Ol' New Hampshire where the state motto is "Live Free or Die"...and that is exactly what we do at Judd's Juke Joint.

Pull up a chair by the fire, snuggle up next a love one, pull the tab off another Pabst Blue Ribbon 16 oz'er and enjoy another Judd's Juke Joint Xmas (remember: you gotta read this as you would the "night before christmas").

"A Judd's Juke Joint Xmas"

Twas the night before Xmas, and all through the Joint

The beer was a flowing, let’s get right to the point.

The bar tabs were hanging by the register with care,

In hopes that the regulars would soon pay their share.

The patrons were nestled all snug in their booth,

While a couple of strippers danced for their loot.

Sweet mammas in G-strings, pranced in dude’s laps,

Maybe someone will get lucky, just maybe, perhaps.

When up on the stage there arose such a clatter,

The blues band tuned up, the windows did rattle.

Away to bathroom, someone flew like a flash,

Tore open his baggie and laid out his stash.

The goon rolled a heater, of green sticky griff.

Old habits die hard when the band plays a riff.

When, what to his wondering eyes did he see?

Well, not much, since there was, such a thick could of weed.

With a count-off from the drummer, so lively and quick,

The guitarman done played a nasty blues lick.

Judd's Juke Joint was jumpin’, the place was insane,

The singer was rousting all the locals by name!

"Hey Gilly! Hey, Huntely! Hey, Tony and Mini!

Yo, Erik! Yo, Zucco! Yo, J.P. and Quinny!

Raise up your mugs! This here tunes for y’all!

At the Juke Joint we never, shout out ‘last call’.

The owner he pulled down, from top o’the shelf,

A bottle of hooch he had saved for himself.

That shit was strong, he made it in his shed,

He passed out some shots; three people fell dead.

He stood on the bar and to the crowd he did yell,

"Might as well get rowdy ‘cause were all goin’ to hell!"

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

He huffed up three lines of some fresh-fallen snow.

The people all partied ‘til the sun came along,

And the band kept on playin’, song after song.

Judd's Juke Joint keeps open ‘til the last person stays,

Who knew that would not be, for almost four days.

As the last person left and the front door was shut,

We looked over our shoulders, ‘fore the ‘lectricity was cut.

In the window, a message, in bright neon lights,

"Live Free or Die”, to all you New Hampshire-ites.

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Filed under // blues Champions of Fun holidays JuddsJukeJoint Keene Music N.H. The Blues Tradition xmas

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December 15, 2009

Just saw the London Premier of "It Might Get Loud"...it did: 10,000 screaming chainsaws, buzzcocking in unison (Jimmy Page video)

I just attended the London premier of "It Might Get Loud" at the Hammersmith Apollo tonight and I have to say...Now I REALLY want to know how to play the GUITAR!

Click here to download:
Just_saw_the_London_Premier_of.zip (2985 KB)

The title of this film might be the most straight forward advertising ever, because it did get loud: Fucking-A! level loud. The opening sounds to this film was Page hammering out thick, leathery, five o'clock shadow chords: It sounded like 10,000 screaming chainsaws, buzzcocking in unison...and, in perfect harmony.

The movie starred a roomful of guitars, amps and foot pedals...oh yeah, and three guitarists you may have heard of: Jimmy Page, The Edge and Jack White. You can see the HD trailer here in a previous post on The6149.

I am not a movie critic so I won't give you a review except to say: This movie was like having three heavyweight fighters in the boxing ring duke'ing it out for a winner take all, three belt unification fight...that ended up in a acoustic sing-a-long (and the crowd went WILD!).

There were some great moments here that touched nerves for me:

Two Jimmy Page moments:

One scene had him sitting on an old wood chair outside of the country English manor where Led Zep recorded their fourth album. He was dressed in black, with his bone-white hair pulled back in a ponytail and he was playing the "Battle of Evermore" on the mandolin. It was a innocent and honest (what the hell...it was almost nostalgic and touching, too) moment from one of R&R's most notoriously amplified guitar slingers.

The next Page moment was when he was in his own home in his room of records playing 45 sides for the director. He slapped on Link Wray's "Rumble" and proceeded to act like a 13 year old kid. He was playing air guitar and pointing out the "cool bits" in Link's playing. He was loving it...time tripping back to when he first heard it when it spurred him on to play the six string...moving forward a few more years to when he realised how Link was playing this...and a few years more when he could actually play it like Link...and back to kid mode again: awe.

It was priceless to see this titan acting like a teen. It made me feel so good...not as a musician (because I am not one)...but as a music fan who has invested lots of time, passion and effort into the music I love. Cool.

Jack White was a bit of a ham in this flick, but I do think he is sincere. What I did like where all of the nods back to bluesmen of the times of yore as played out in the imagery in all of his scenes in his part of the docco. They dripped with with romantic notions.

I also loved seeing The Edge, with his plugged in amps, out on the beach by his Dublin, "riff room" (my term). He was playing licks loaded with reverb and sound waves that could have pushed back the tides. It was simplistic and sonic...like The Edge.

Second row seating was way too close for a movie. Being so close distorted the view and made me feel as though the three fiddle players were like literal guitar giants! Fifteen minutes into the film...that seemed just about right.

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The show had a bit of red carpet flair, too: Jimmy Page was at the premier. He and the director, Davis Guggenheim, addressed the packed house prior to the flick with some Q&A. I was sitting in the second row and caught the session on video. Have a watch:

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Posted from Hammersmith, United Kingdom

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