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Posts tagged ‘Kip’

“The Mathematics of a Good Album”: Kip comes a calling from Oz with a guest post on Peter Parcek

Our friend from the Land Down Under, Kip, has chimed in with an album review. The album is from one of the members of The 6149′s “Honor Roll” (seen in the sidebar), Peter Parcek. Peter’s latest is called the “The Mathematics of Love” and was just released last week.

It is always a treat when Kip comes a calling with a thought or two on music.

Kip is muso of the highest order. Whilst living in NYC, Kip worked for Rolling Stone mag. Kip was their Aussie correspondent for all things Aussie music related…and then some. Kip and I have shared many a “music summit” together. These summits consisted of equal parts conversation, storytelling and ice cold, delicious Aussie ales and lagers. Spinning yarns with Kip is a joy. I encourage you to do so here at The 6149.

Thanks, Kip, for taking the time to share your thoughts after your full-on, four hour-plus listening session with “The Mathematics of Love”. After reading his take on Peter’s latest ten song class act, real deal, guitar legend in the making album, you’ll know why Jann and crew were keen to keep Kip on the payroll.

Disclaimer: I have to mention that my connection with Peter runs deeper than a near twenty year fan and friend relationship: I now work for the label that released Peter’s album. That, my friends, is a story I will tell another day, soon.

So, without further adieu…Kip’s review.

—– The Mathematics of a Great Album

Peter Parcek is one of those unknown legends we stumble upon occasionally. Very occasionally. They’ve paid their dues many times over but, for whatever reason, they’ve remained a relative secret to all but a devoted few. But when we find them and start listening, a knowing smile joins our closed eyes and lolling head in instant appreciation.
The Peter Parcek 3 have just released a new album, The Mathematics Of Love, and it’s an absolute top-shelf cracker.

The paradoxical title announces the album’s intentions immediately: a patchwork quilt of carefully measured pieces that ultimately creates a unique whole that is far greater than the sum of its impressive parts. The set is a beautifully integrated production with each musician sharing the honours and each playing a vital role. A classic, tight, three piece led by an out-and-out geetar maestro.

The PP3 have sown their seed in fertile blues/roots territory but they also show a masterly touch at driving a toe-tapping, funk/jazz groove. The band’s obvious infatuation with three-piece grooves provides a welcome relief from the radio-ready synthesizers and compressors often found in contemporary blues projects.

The overall feel of the set is helped enormously by Parcek’s clever choice of covers. From ballsy alt-country darlings, Lucinda Williams and Jessie Mae Hemphill, through blues thoroughbreds Peter Green, Harlan Howard, Cousin Joe Pleasant and Mississippi Fred McDowell, Parcek approaches each cover as if they were a semi-blank canvas. The resulting musical whole is often-times spellbinding; allowing you to luxuriate in the idiosyncrasies of these monolithic tunes.

Unlike its bastard child Rock ‘n’ Roll, the Blues is filled with rules, but it has a logic that allows remarkable freedom within the well worn grid of notes and chord sequences. If, like Parcek, you submit and are in total control of your ‘canvas’ and are willing to go where the music takes you, old songs are just waiting to be had and new songs, for the gifted, are there to be written. And rest assured, the four originals here are well chosen, beautifully written and provide the rock solid foundations that this record is built upon.

Parcek is an axeman who teenage boys should be dreaming of while doing their best SRV/Hendrix impersonations in bedrooms and garages across middle America. He taps those same well-worn resources but does so with taste and a healthy dollop of soulful grooves and jazz inflections. Indeed, the upright bass and drumming on Kokomo Me Baby and Rollin’ With Zah is straight out of a late-night gig at The Blue Note. Or, a road-side rockabilly joint in Kentucky, for that matter.

Parcek drops in some jaw-dropping technical wizardry, but he does it in a timely and measured way that avoids blatant wankery. Indeed, his mastery allows his guitars to achieve heights never reached by even the most accomplished speed freak heavy metal guitarists.

But whether full throttle or in after-hours mode, Parcek makes it all immediately indelible. And his vocal – often a counterpunch – is just as warm and indelible as his incendiary rapid-fire fretwork. His cool voice has a range, versatility and timing that is essential in carrying this collection of tracks to their respective peaks. The gut-wrenching vocal by-play on the slow burning Tears Like Diamonds is positively gorgeous and one of the many vocal highlights.

Every year or two, if you listen to enough music you finally get to hear something exceptional – but The Mathematics Of Love goes beyond that lofty designation. Whether it’s the semi-angry lament that runs through the title track, the rollicking bar-room groove of Busted, or the ‘everything old is new again’ feel of Williams’ Get Right With God, Parcek’s evocations of urban grooves are always engaging and seriously entertaining. Do yourself a favour and get a copy of this gem. Trust me, you will not be disappointed.

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Peter had an album launch party at the House of Blues in Boston last week. When I say it was a bow-down event…I mean it was a BOW-DOWN event. I will have lay down the full low-down another time; but, have a look at some video one of the guests shot of the Peter Parcek 3 in action. Peter and the guys played a one and a half hour set complete with five crowd inspired (demanded!) encores. Here is the link to check out vids that were crowd captured.

http://www.youtube.com/user/spi534

(apologies for the crude link/no imbedded video. I am on a plane flying to Italy as I type this and I can’t perform any web wizardry at this moment. Just the same, go check out the link…you’ll be glad for it)

Wilco Delivers! (a guest post from Kip who caught the gig in Sydney, Australia)

Over its 15 years as a band, Wilco has explored a varied range of sounds, from early alt-country tendencies to a sound influenced by classic rock, pop and folk. Ever restless, the band reinvented itself in the early-noughties by pushing its music in a more experimental direction. And when it seemed they’d become a band preoccupied with sonic experiments, it switched gears (again), putting out a melodic, folksy album, Sky Blue Sky, followed by an almost straightforward mainstream guitar album — last year’s king of the creepers, Wilco (The Album).

By single-mindedly pursuing a career based on slow organic growth, as opposed to intermittent commercial hits and a quick buck, Wilco have evolved into a live act that is seemingly beyond comparison. It’s difficult to imagine a tighter, more confident sextet, particularly when one considers the sonic breadth of their setlists. Great bands create a wall of sound when playing live; paradoxically, Wilco’s wall is a soft blanket that envelops its audience.

Wilco established the tone for a recent sold-out Saturday night Sydney show early on, opening with the chugging beat of Wilco (The Song). Over the song’s playful rhythm, frontman Jeff Tweedy sung, “Wilco will love you, baby,” and at once a sense of joyful openheartedness pervaded the mood for the rest of the two and half hour, 29-song set.

Early on, Wilco launched into another song off the new album, Bull Black Nova, a jarring, paranoid rocker with a clanging Spoon-like keyboard rhythm that recalls the piano chestnut, Chopsticks. The intensely claustrophobic Bull Black Nova was an abrupt transition from the light-hearted opener, but it signalled that the band was in the mood to rock out, and the setlist for the rest of the night favoured songs with driving guitars and opportunities for the band to unleash its unique wall of delicious sound.

The band’s two multi-instrumentalists – Pat Sansone and Mikael Jorgensen – laid down waves of interlocking sound with buzzing, squeaking and humming electronics as drummer Glenn Kotche masterfully filled in the spaces. It was easy to close your eyes and get caught up in these swirling acoustics as the understated lights that dotted the stage pulsed and glowed in the State Theatre’s darkness.

Unfortunately, a typical “hip” Sydney audience is cowered into fear of expressing themselves the wrong way at the wrong time, making the collective feel self-conscious about their presence at a gig and wondering how they’re supposed to participate. Doesn’t sound like a fun-filled experience, does it? Bollocks! Wilco are so sure of themselves now that the typical Sydney audience had little baring on the outcome.

Wilco came, saw and conquered. Sure they noticed the blatant audience coolness and they did their absolute best to change it – Tweedy’s banter, at times, was like a mischievous kid with a blunt stick prodding a hornet’s nest. But it mattered not.

For most groups who relish the interaction of a live show, playing the hits involves a delicate balancing act. On one hand, many people don’t like to have their memory of a favourite old tune radically altered. On the other, there are few worse prospects for the seasoned musician than the idea of being reduced to a living jukebox, churning out songs for which you have long since lost any affection. This was a problem that Wilco obviously circumvented a long time ago. There are no throw-aways; nothing is ever rushed.

The exceptionally talented lead guitarist Nels Cline stole the show with some surprisingly spectacular guitar playing that was so impressive that (some) people even jumped to their feet to whistle and applaud! Guitar solos can easily become indulgent, but I was blown away with the precision and grace of Cline’s playing, the way his often frantic strumming served the song and how he was able to consistently wow the audience without going overboard by laying it on too much. Normally I get impatient for long guitar solos to end, but Cline is the rare exception when I would’ve been happy to hear more.

At times Tweedy carries the look of a man who enjoys being dragged backwards through hedges. But this is a good thing in the context of a Wilco gig. Whether it’s his deadpan between-song banter, his ironic facial expressions or his folksy back porch demeanour, Tweedy is comfortably wedged in the driver’s seat.

Turning a stately 100 year-old theatre adjoining a mid-town Maccas into a back porch is a feat more readily associated with Uri Geller. But Wilco have magic in abundance. They are a band at ease with their lofty place in the live music world today. Happy to be enjoying their slow evolution from alt-country darlings to all-round sonic magicians. The boys, are quite simply, in outstanding form right now. If they ever stop-by your home town, do yourself a favour and pull-up a pew. You won’t be disappointed.

Special Guest Post: Music Copyrights and Wrongs – Time to Kook a Burra, Mate!

Have you ever heard a song…for the first time…that flat-out resonates with you. Instantly, at first listen, it becomes one of your classic “go-to” songs?  The kind that never fails to bring a bit of joy to your day or your life.  I have. 

I have also come across a scant few people in my life that have made me feel that same way. One of those people is my good mate, Kip. I met Kip when I lived in Australia. Actually, we met at a Stones gig. How fitting.

Fitting indeed that we should meet at live music gig (the Stones!). Kip and I are music fans to the core. Fortunately we dig on the same styles and are joined at the musical hip.  Over the years we have shared many a musical experience ranging from live shows, song swapping and story telling to introductions to new music, old faves and lost classics. 

We also share a passion for the stories that are part of the DNA of the songs and the lore of the legends we love. We’ve shared many a beer just waxing on tale tales about our heroes. Every now and then we would hold a music summit. We would meet up at one another’s flats with a bag full of sounds and just let ‘em rip…for hours.

Kip is one of the most tried and true (blue) Aussies I have ever met. That being said he is traveling soul, too. Kip spent a decade in living in NYC. His musical exploits and brushes with fame would keep you entertained for hours. For while Kip earned his living as a journalist. He wrote for, to name a few, travel magazines, Sports Illustrated and…drumroll please…Rolling Stone magazine.  

I love Kip’s work…you should read one of his emails…and am very happy to have him contributing to The 6149.  I think he just raised the stakes on me!

Cool Kip Fact!  AC/DC played at Kip’s high school dance some 30+ years ago. You heard that right…Angus and Bon playing a high school gig when the band first started out. Beat THAT!

Kip is a loyal reader and commenter at The 6149 (thanks, mate). I asked him if he wanted to write something for us from time to time. Fortunately, that stoked his creative fire. Kip has pulled together his first 6149 post for our reading enjoyment. 

They say “write about what you know” and Kip has done just that: music and Australia. Kip has a crack at sussing out the recent copyright squabble over Men at Work’s “Down Under” (I like the bit on “quoting” as it relates to jazz).  

Have at it Kipster…
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Music Copyrights and Wrongs – Time to Kook a Burra, Mate!

The mainstream music world was rocked recently. No, it wasn’t because new illegal download figures had been released. And it wasn’t because the Stones had announced their retirement. It was all due to a lawsuit being upheld against the writers of an iconic 80s anthem.

Australian Federal Court judge Peter Jacobson ruled that the flute passage in Down Under, Men At Work’s popular new wave ode to life in the antipodes bears a resemblance to Kookaburra Sits In The Old Gum Tree, a children’s folk tune written 75 years ago by a humble Aussie schoolteacher.

“I have come to the view that the flute riff in Down Under . . . infringes on the copyright of ‘Kookaburra,’ because it replicates in material form a substantial part of Ms. Sinclair’s 1935 work,” stated the judge in his ruling. Men At Work’s lead singer and songwriter, Colin Hay, maintains that the flute passage was unconsciously borrowed by the band’s flute player (not a writer of the song) during a performance, several years after it was written. The brief interlude, therefore, was part of the arrangement, not a part of the original composition.

Hear for yourselves:

To me, though, the question shouldn’t be whether a riff was borrowed consciously or unconsciously, or was part of the composition or the arrangement. And it’s not about who owes whom money. The question now is whether culture can grow and thrive under conditions where a few notes can land you in a courtroom.

Copyright exists to give artists a monopoly on their work and to incentivise further creativity — this benefits society, because we all want new music and art, and the more the better. Too much regulation, though, and copyright starts to stifle creativity. No art, whether it’s literature, painting or music, is created in a vacuum — all works borrow (consciously or not) from the artistic milieu in which they were conceived. If an artist has to be afraid lest a tiny corner of his or her composition contains a recognisable element from somebody else’s, art suffers, and society suffers.

As Harvard copyright professor Lawrence Lessig has pointed out, where would writing be if you had to secure permission from the rights-holder of a text when you wanted to quote a paragraph for illustration or review? It’s too absurd to contemplate. Yet in other media, we are headed increasingly in that direction. It’s a good time to be a lawyer, but not to be an artist.

That there was a connection with the Kookaburra song was seemingly taken as a fait accompli by the judge, but I can’t remember it ever entering my mind, and friends that I’ve asked are similarly confounded. Voltaire once said that anything too stupid to be said is sung. Judge Jacobson should have dusted-off an eight track deck prior to handing down his queer judgement.

The judge made much of Hay’s admission of conscious or unconscious references, but there hasn’t been a piece of music written that wasn’t unconsciously referencing some past song, at least since Mozart (he was the deaf one, wasn’t he?). Robert Plant was gracious enough to admit that songwriters are one long line of beggars and thieves, and how can that not be so.

I think any reasonable person would suggest that whatever similarity was found, the supposed lifting of a few notes added exactly nothing to the value of the work, or its popularity, and should be compensated at that level. And that’s before we even get into the argument about whether copyright should be maintained some 75 years after the original ditty was penned, and a decade or so after the writer’s death.

The money is a big issue, but it’s the principle that stinks.

After the surprise ruling, Hay published a lengthy and very emotional statement. “The copyright of ‘Kookaburra’ is owned and controlled by Larrikin Music Publishing, more specifically by a man named Norm Lurie. Larrikin Music Publishing is owned by a multi-national corporation called Music Sales. I only mention this as Mr. Lurie is always banging on about how he’s the underdog, the little guy. Yet, he is part of a multi-national corporation just like EMI Music Publishing. It’s all about money, make no mistake,” he wrote.

You know, Colin has a point.

“It is indeed true, that Greg Ham unconsciously referenced two bars of ‘Kookaburra’ on the flute, during live shows after he joined the band in 1979, and it did end up in the Men At Work recording,” Hay conceded. “When Men At Work released the song ‘Down Under’ through CBS Records (now Sony Music), in 1982, it became extremely successful. It was, and continues to be, played literally millions of times all over the world, and it is no surprise that in over 20 years, no one noticed the reference to ‘Kookaburra.’”

Well, Colin certainly has a point, there, too.

If any of the “Men At Work” did notice the imitation, they surely would have assumed that the song was ‘traditional’ and in the public domain. A payout to a rights-holding company nearly a century later in no way helps the author. It does nothing for struggling artists today, just as none of the millions paid for his paintings go to Vincent Van Gogh. Property law and art are poles apart. The law should change.

The most likely thing, I reckon, is that flautist Greg Ham “quoted” the riff as a clever and witty way of underlining and reinforcing the Australiana vibe of the song. Quoting is a jazz expression used when a soloist consciously references another song, generally during an improvisation. It is a common device and it is generally understood to be a compliment, not a rip-off. Maybe if they’d used that line of defence and offered some sort of compensation to the Kookaburra people the whole matter could’ve been settled amicably. Dunno. It’s all about money, I hear.

However, now that His Honour has handed down his verdict, can we expect that common sense takes control and damages are assessed at say $100, with all parties to pay their own costs? Sadly, I doubt it.

I went to see the musical Wicked the other day. Unmistakeably in the overture there are a few bars of Somewhere over the Rainbow. But I’ll shut up for $50,000.

Of course, this particular case occurs in the middle of a world-wide panic amongst luddite music labels over the matter of illegal downloading and file sharing, so I wonder if the times just did not suit Hay and his co-defenders?

Now, there might be something of a witch-hunt mentality surrounding illegal downloads (though I don’t think many professional musicians think so), and there is certainly a good argument that current copyright laws are badly drawn, have become draconian and exploitative and are inhibiting creative expression, the complete opposite of what they were originally designed to do, but it seems to me that even if all that were not the case, there is still a minor argument for compensation being paid to the Kookaburra copyright owner.

But that compensation should be fair. I saw an article in the aftermath of the case where Norm Lurie suggested he was seeking 40-60% of the royalties from Down Under and that strikes me as insane, even as a bargaining position. Less than one percent would be reasonable for “his” contribution to the track.So I feel a great deal of sympathy for Colin Hay. In part because he’s a great musician — I’ve seen his solo shows a bunch of times and many of his solo albums are simply brilliant — and in part because I think it really would be a serious injustice if he was forced to cough up 40-60% of the royalties from Down Under. But in an age where musicians, quite legitimately, worry about their work being stolen in the form of illegal downloads and other sorts of unauthorised transfers, and where major labels have made a point of suing individuals over such infringements, you can hardly expect musicians themselves to be exempt from having their use of copyrighted material questioned.

Possibly the most famous plagiarism suit is the 1970 George Harrison classic, My Sweet Lord vs. the minor 1963 Chiffons’ hit, He’s So Fine.

George was gigging in Copenhagen with Delaney and Bonnie in late ‘69. He remembered the song that became “My Sweet Lord” was conceived when he slipped away from a yawn-inducing press conference and began “vamping” some guitar riffs, fitting the chords to the words “Hallelujah” and “Hare Krishna.” Later, members of the band joined in, fired-up a doobie and the dreamy lyrics developed from there. Although Harrison is solely credited with the birth of “My Sweet Lord,” the song obviously had many mid-wives. Legendary keyboard side-man and ad-libbing genius Billy Preston was also in attendance that day.

In 1994 John Fogerty was sued for self-plagiarism after leaving Fantasy Records and pursuing a solo career with Warners. Fantasy still owned the rights to the CCR library and sound. Saul Zaentz, the owner of Fantasy, claimed Fogerty’s song “Old Man Down the Road” was a copy of the CCR toon “Run Through the Jungle.” The court, in a moment of inspired ‘juris obvious’, made the landmark judgement that an artist cannot plagiarise himself. Zaentz was arrested later that night for raping himself.

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Have a go at these tunes…no worries, you won’t get sued for playing them.


http://listen.grooveshark.com/widget.swf

 

 

Neil Young says “Time Fades Away”. Good thing vintage record shops haven’t…

You always remember your first. 

This past week I made my first visit to one of the record shops on my London Record Shop Search Map.  My wife and I were in Notting Hill to look for places to live.  I planned ahead, knowing that Rough Trade Records had one of their outposts there, and brought along the gift certificates my good Aussie mate, Kip gave to me

We were on a tight schedule of appointments to see local flats.  Knowing this, I had to be quick with my first look at what could be my new music buying/hang-out home away from Mojo Music in Sydney. When I check out a record shop with as much cred as Rough Trade, I want to be able to take my sweet-assed time and look through all the racks and other goodies strewn about.  It may have been my first time, but I sure as hell know to do it right and make it last.

Alas, this visit would have to be a better-than-nothing quickie.  

I got to the door of the shop and took a deep breath and thought of my buddies at Mojo. I had to make sure I brainwashed myself into forgetting about them and The Feel of that shop.  Mojo is a rough diamond; an imperfect gem that you can’t put a value on.  It wouldn’t be fair to grade Rough Trade by my Mojo standards.

That being said, it was no Mojo. What is it then?  It is chock full of vintage vinyl.  Downstairs is full all kinds of oldies and goodies.  I bypassed sinking my teeth into the upstairs area with all of it’s CDs, eye candy and memorabilia.  I had to act quick and I wanted vintage.

I started flipping through the bins and all of the sections: surf, blues, classic soul, Stax & Motown specific, US & UK versions of Stones albums, Dylan, Country and Good Ol’ Neil Young. 

When in doubt, go to Neil.

And there it was…an album worthy of my first purchase in a London record shop: “Time Fades Away” by Good Ol’ Neil Young. This album was released in 1973…on vinyl…and has never been put out on CD or up for download by Neil.  Neil fan(atics) have long hollered for its release.  In fact, the supreme Neil site, Thrasher’s Wheat, has collected over 114,000 signatures in their online petition to have it released (yeah, I’ve signed on). 

I picked up a copy for 25 quid. It is a UK pressing on Reprise. It is in mint condition, complete with inside poster/fold out of all lyrics and listings.

This album is soaked in mystique and lore. It is part of the “Ditch Trilogy“.  Cameron Crowe replicated the album cover in a scene in his movie, “Almost Famous” (of which I am in awe of, jealous of and a huge fan of). In the flick, at the first Stillwater show, there is a rose lying on the stage and a man in front of the stage raising his arm, thus recreating the cover of Time Fades Away.

What Neil has said about it:
“It was recorded on my biggest tour ever, 65 shows in 90 days. Money hassles among everyone concerned ruined this tour and record for me but i released it anyway so you folks could see what could happen if you lose it for a while.”

What Rolling Stone wrote about it in it’s 1974 review:
If Young appears foolish and arrogant at various points on the album, he seems to be allowing us a glimpse of these flaws, rather than letting them slip through and spoil his big moments without his consent, as happened on Harvest. Time Fades Away is an idiosyncrasy from one of rock’s most idiosyncratic artists. If it isn’t a resounding success, the album is still a revealing self-portrait by an always fascinating man.

What allmusic has to say in their review:
Few rockers have been as willing as Young to lay themselves bare before their audience, and Time Fades Away ranks with the bravest and most painfully honest albums of his career — like the tequila Young was drinking on that tour, it isn’t for everyone, but you may be surprised by its powerful effects.
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All in all, it was a satisfying visit to Rough Trade.  I bought a fave, hard to find piece of vinyl.  I used my good friend Kip’s gift certificates in a way that would make him proud (Kip is a music-aficionado-wizard with righteous taste). And, I found some good ‘uns to back and explore when I have ample time.  A more in-depth report to follow.  

On a side note.  My wife has the Fear in her now.  She knows the cat is very much out of the bag on this one…

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