Pianollucinations

I guess it was inevitable that my constitution would fail in the end. I was starting to feel like Superman (or a ghost) watching everyone get sick around me, the landscape littered with sniffles and whooping coughs. In retrospect, I should've gotten that flu shot. On the plus side, the day spent at home battling through it made me dig out the Köln Concert and recall how unfailingly awesome it is. And it's hard to break it into pieces, so complete is its spell. Especially the weird groans Jarrett lets out (maybe it's the afro talking). Having said that, here's a section that was especially enthralling as I was in the soft arms of the Nyquil evening. Ahh...

Keith Jarrett - The Koln Concert (Part II C)

Hey Joni

Inevitably, the switch would flip, and my appreciation for Joni Mitchell's mid-'70s jazz odyssey would flash on blindingly. Not just the fancy chords and incisive lyrics, but the whole sound world that vanquishes past prejudice against boomer folky caricatures. I've had that damn Summer Lawns album on repeat for days, and I can't help but share a couple nuggets of this overdue pleasure.

Joni Mitchell - The Hissing of Summer Lawns

Joni Mitchell - The Boho Dance

Weekend rub-a-dub

The last few weekends have involved a strange dub craving immediately upon waking up. And my enjoyment usually lasts deep into my second cup of coffee. Could King Tubby's productions actually be the perfect soundtrack for unhurried morning domesticity? Could this pioneer of homespun audio innovations have found a way to remix the the early sunlight hours by removing any desire to leave the house? Here's a test case.

Tommy McCook and The Aggrovators/King Tubby - Bongo Man Dub

Hackery

The fabled high-flying guitarist's solo debut is an oft-mocked venture. Usually, for good reason, given their propensity to be full of all the crappy ideas the band had previously stifled. But it would be just plain mean-spirited to throw snickers in Steve Hackett's direction for his first effort, even if its songs are titled after...umm...tarot cards, and even if the cover art a little too closely telegraphs the kind of soundworld on offer.

Most folks who hang around this space know that Songblague has lots of good feeling toward even the most tasteless of prog-rock efforts. Partly for nostalgic reasons, and partly because there's actually a lot to like in excess. This track hits all those notes. What charms me most is how it plays like a nice guy trying to get all sinister and prove that Peter Gabriel wasn't the only one in Genesis who had weird ideas (i.e. dark mellotron "choir" move at 1:53). Hackett just wasn't as savvy about assembling them. However awkwardly, it does sound like a respectable nightmare. And it does its genre proud by ignoring just about anything to do with the 1975 of consensus reality.

Steve Hackett - A Tower Struck Down

Naptime

I'm not usually the napping kind. My clock doesn't work that way. But there are times when I just can't muster the synaptic quorum to keep the lights on. And I submit. The trouble with the afternoon power-down is the disorientation that follows and then moves to sabotage what's left of the waking day. Dizziness mixed with mania, stuck in a kind of mental hurry-up-and-wait. No fun, but sometimes necessary. Of course, if naptime could just feel like this tune, I'd have no complaints at all.

Robert Fripp & Brian Eno - Evening Star

Space spirals

Yesterday's tune got us into space. And what with fuel costs being what they are, may as well hang out in the distant reaches a bit, courtesy of Gong guitarist Steve Hillage, who has continued to be terribly under-appreciated. Maybe he should've teamed up with fellow Steves Howe and Hackett to form a less embarrassing supergroup than what they came up with on their own. Actually, it's probably better that he pursued a more cosmically-minded career.

Steve Hillage - Meditation of the Snake

The wrath of Kan

He's been called the French David Bowie. Does every country have its David Bowie? Does David Bowie have a David Bowie? I don't know much about Alain Kan other than that he seemed to enjoy shocking the public, and then one day vanished at a Paris metro station. Excellent career move. Thanks to Paul Durango for putting him on my radar, where he will stay.

Alain Kan - Le Premier Bébé De Lady Star Lune

The sound of aftermath

There are long, weird nights that produce sharp cringes when you wake up. And then there are those unfortunate mornings that mock the conscious mind's attempt to impose a narrative onto the subconscious. Here's some music for surveying the landscape and not knowing how to step into it.

Daniela Casa - Noia

Wear the weary hours down

Steely Dan have always been the elephant in the room around here, responsible for my fondness (obsession) for musics of a smooth and greasy character in recent years. It wasn't always this way. I'd long given them the grapefruit face, holding them with the same contempt I reserve for jam bands and subway preachers. And then suddenly, a switch flipped. There was no blinding light or burning whatever. A friend dropped their catalogue on me all at once, and as I dug in, I found that my ears were tuned directly into it.

In retrospect, it shouldn't be surprising. There's the snarky lyricizing and raised-eyebrow perspective that I reflexively appreciate from my Zappa days. Couple that with the prog-precise musicianship of their many collaborators. And then, what could be the dealbreaker, that fusion-y '70s-ness — exquisite chords, mustaches, cocaine, and perfectionism. Ironic or not, there it is. And even that irony has its layers. You love it or you don't. And I love it. A star in the constellation that stretches across my musical cosmos.

It's a tough choice for which tune to go with. I should devote a week to them, maybe two. But this one is pretty instant in its gratification. And yes ma'am, that is one Michael McDonald on the backing vox.

Steely Dan - Rose Darling

Take a walk down the avenue

Songblague is always happy to add to its stable of street struttin' songs. The unfortunately named Crusaders have a nice fat discography that I need to dive deeper into. But I'm mostly loving this album start to finish. Part of me thinks that Larry Carlton's entire career is simply gravy after the "Kid Charlemagne" guitar solo (except of course for this other highpoint), but his tone is always such a joy. I almost hesitate to put this in the Claire Huxtable file. What do you think, lawyers and law school people? Could you keep your head in the books while this excellent toe-tapper is in the air?

The Crusaders - Chain Reaction

100% soul power

Even if was just the rainy day strings and wrenching lyrics, this song would be a winner. It may be a bum-out, but it's definitely not stuck in the muck. The wah-wah is some sweet guitarness, but I wanna tip my hat to the stickman—that shuffle's just butter.

Gwen McCrae - 90% Of Me Is You

Theme Week - Glam, no Bowie (3/5)

Music aside, it's the fantastic escapism and the self-reinvention it implies that I like best about Glam. It doesn't really matter whether the flights are interstellar or just international. Which is maybe why I'm so fond of the stuff made by Americans copping absurd English accents. I'd guess their disco/new wave incarnation is how most people would know Sparks, who have been canny enough to hang around for nearly 40 years. I'm no expert on their vast catalog, but this track is a damn fun time.

Sparks - Happy Hunting Ground

Power pop on draught

There are plenty of rock dudes you'd love to go out drinking with. Bob Dylan. Thin Lizzy. Tom Waits + whoever he would've brought along in 1978. I'd even add Belle & Sebastian, because you know those little Glaswegians could probably drink you under the table and smash your smug face if you even mumbled the word "twee."

Then there's Artful Dodger, in whose sweaty company I'm sure you would've had a rollicking, all-American time throwing back cans of crappy beer and enjoying the most indistinct burgers in Wisconsin. Even if you were in Virginia. The boys are long gone and forgotten, but you can conjure the magic with their utterly addictive masterpiece.

Artful Dodger - Wayside

I feel the earth move

Greetings from LA! My work sent me here to sit in a dark room all day, but I'm parlaying this important assignment into a weekend of mellow sun soaking. I believe some site-specific tunes are in order.

If you don't own Margo Guryan's work, I'd suggest rectifying that. There's no reason why she wasn't huge. Her Take a Picture album is a sublime chunk of late-'60s soft pop that belongs in your parents' record collections, probably right next to Carol King. Sadly, it probably isn't. Life is cruel, so she moved to California, where fame continued to elude her. 

This is a tune she wrote later to combat her fear of earthquakes by imagining the shaking to be a big communal dance. Can't get more West Coast than that, mang.

Margo Guryan - California Shake

Hard times

Talk about rainy day music. Could anyone but Curtis hit these notes of despair, fear, and underclass resignation? With a plaintive grace and a groove that insists on pressing ahead? Sure, Marvin Gaye maybe, but Curtis just oozes righteousness, and without all those dad issues. You've got to be stone-hearted to be unmoved by this tune, I say.

Curtis Mayfield - Hard Times

Cover me (psychotic behavior)

People usually think John Cale was the civilized one in the Velvet Underground, what with the viola and the accent. But he could do spine-tingling, locked-in-a-closet-for-2-weeks disturbed as well as Lou Reed any day of the week. This one finds Cale taking Elvis out of the maltshop and into a demonic place, capturing the hellishness of lovelorn despair. It's got a great shriek at the end, and Eno hooks him up with some sympathetic keys. A scary little masterpiece, this one.

John Cale - Heartbreak Hotel

Sweet soul aloft

Some songs cannot truly be appreciated until you hear them at cruising altitude. Flying over the Rockies, this one had me under a spell. I guess you need to see miles and miles of land laid bare to get a big enough frame for such soaring sentiments. Thanks to Funk My Soul for bringing these men to my attention.

The Notations - Make Me Twice the Man

Prognosis, part 1

Good morning! Even on a Monday. Let's start the week with a smile and see how long we can hold it. One ideal I want to establish here at Songblague is an enduring sympathy for the ridiculous cast-off, a warm spot in the heart for the unloved and un-hipable. (Well, two ideals, I guess.) In that spirit, today I subject you to Gentle Giant, one of the most insistently un-ironic propositions thrown up by the kinda-ass-backwards, kinda-starry-eyed-anything-is-possible aesthetic of vintage prog rock.

I have a complicated relationship with this kind of stuff. On the one hand, at thirteen, it took my ears beyond the radio braindeath and helped point me in many exciting directions. On the other hand, have you ever actually sat and listened to Tales From Topographic Oceans?! Sort of shakes your faith in the upward drive of humanity.

It's only in the last few years that I can listen to bands like this again, admiring the ambition without reservation and loving the sheer dorkery. Maybe the times are just more forgiving. I've seen an ocean of lovely looking people pay to see Battles perform. Animal Collective can't buy a bad review. Etc. Inevitably, I'll be returning to this knotty subject in future posts. Till then, let's fugue!

Gentle Giant - Just the Same

It was Spring for a minute

Spring peaked its head through the curtain this weekend, and I got all dizzy and confused. I biked around Brooklyn smelling flowers and garbage. Looking up at the sky, this little gem popped into my head, and I knew we'd be spending Sunday afternoon together.

Eddie Kendricks - Date With the Rain

Blasting off

Well I guess a train wouldn't do too much blasting off, but, in any event, welcome! I've always found that one of life's trickiest decisions is how to begin a mix. It's so easy to fall into the 'overture' mentality. Or kick it off with a kitschy little number that puts a safe ironic frame around the heavy, meaning-laden tracks to come. But some songs are just born to bat leadoff. Case in point. From Roxy Music's secret weapon:

Phil Manzanera - Frontera