Neverending Randomplay is a feature in which I let my J-River Media Center choose what we get listen to. My collection currently stands at 23,652 titles. The lion's share are rock of all genres, with a mix of pop, blues, country, pre-rock, jazz, reggae, soul, electronic, avant-garde, hip-hop, rap, bluegrass, trance, Afrobeat, J-Pop, trip-hop, lounge, worldbeat, commercial jingles, etc. filling it out. I don't influence the track selection in any way; whatever comes up, comes up. Rated 1-5 stars.

351. Benny Goodman: King Porter Stomp *****

Along with Glenn Miller and Artie Shaw, Benny Goodman was one of the titans of swing, which was what a lot of young hepcats listened to, danced to, and made out to back in the prewar era. A revamped Jelly Roll Morton tune, "King Porter Stomp" is one of Goodman's best numbers, recorded in 1935, just as Goodman was entering his 1935-1939 peak. Indeed, the clarinet-playing Goodman is often credited as the inventor of swing as it came to be known, stemming from a 1935 performance at the Palomar Ballroom near Los Angeles where the crowd went wild after Goodman had been met with lukewarm enthusiasm on the east coast. "King Porter Stomp" captures succinctly the jauntiness of the era, and you'd be making a mistake if you assumed there was anything square about it. While the whole orchestra shines, special credit goes to drummer extrordinaire Gene Krupa, who gives the song its extra punch. Swing eventually fell out of favor during World War II, to be replaced by bebop jazz, Chicago blues, and eventually rock 'n' roll as the favored youth music in the nation. Goodman disbanded his orchestra in 1944, but remained active as a musician, arranger, and radio host, and even toured the U.S.S.R. in 1962. He died in 1986.

352. Paul McCartney: Motor of Love ***

Flowers In The Dirt was McCartney's attempt to get himself out of the rut he spent most of the 1980's in. His stock had never fallen as far as it had by 1989; he endured a lot of spite following John Lennon's death in 1980, broke up Wings in 1981, saw his hits dry up by mid-decade, released an embarrassment of a movie in 1984, Give My Regards To Broad Street, and was largely silent in the late 80's. Perhaps signalling his desire to be taken seriously again, Flowers In The Dirt, from 1989, was his first album not to feature his photograph on the cover. More substantially, Elvis Costello was brought in to co-write a handful of songs, McCartney's first heavyweight musical collaborator in songwriting since the sainted Lennon. The result was a semi-success; Flowers In the Dirt was the first McCartney album to have substance since the 1970's, and sold fairly well. A supporting world tour, his first since 1976, was a huge success. "Motor of Love" isn't one of the McCartney/McManus collaborations, but it's an interesting tune nonetheless; a somewhat crackpot devotional from a secular Brit, it certainly isn't authentic, but does demonstrate McCartney's knack for tackling any idiom and making it his own. The drawbacks are what keeps the album from being truly fulfilling; cheesy 1980's synths and drum machines that haven't aged well. In the end, it was a step in the right direction, but only a step; McCartney wouldn't see his image rehabilitated until the late 90's, and even now he still gets dissed pretty often. Fans will like this, though.

353. Arctic Monkeys: From the Ritz to The Rubble ****

Arctic Monkeys, formed in Sheffield, U.K., envision themselves as a cross between the Clash and the Jam, with some Britpop conventions thrown in. This alone should inspire suspicion, but I am here to report that on "From the Ritz to The Rubble", I'm buying what they're selling. Punky on the surface, it also boasts the dense layered guitars of post alt-rock, and they're edgy enough to provide nourishment. The song is aggressively uptempo, but more metallic than traditional punk; Alex Turner's snotty rapidfire vocals exude attitude without coming across as a pose, rare enough these days to be noteworthy. The song is the penultimate one on Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not, their 2006 debut, which broke sales records when it was released in January. Not since Oasis has there been so much hype for a band across the Atlantic, and as with Oasis, it might be too much for any one band to live up to. But I'll gladly play this again, no problem. All I can say is, thank God for the guitars, and hope they don't fall prey to the almost inevitable sophomore swoon.

354. Mantovani Orchestra: Vaya Con Dios ***

For those who wonder what the Moody Blues really aspired to, it was something like this. Annunzio Paolo Mantovani was a conductor, composer, violinist, and pianist, and crafted lush sounding easy listening albums with string orchestras. "Vaya Con Dios" perhaps best known for the Les Paul/Mary Ford rendition, is typical of his material; he relied more on TV and movie themes than on original compostions. How is it? Well lush, pretty, and melodic. Perfect for dozing off to, and there's the rub. When music becomes this innocuous, it ceases to stir any passions whatsoever, and becomes part of the wallpaper. There's certainly nothing to complain about, Mantovani is certainly a competent arranger; he may well be the best easy listening arranger in history. But some things shouldn't be too easy. Not sure of the date for this one; I'd guess it's from 1953 or shortly after. Those who like vintage lounge music for the camp value might find this to their liking; those who like lounge music without irony will find this much too tame. Recommended to Justin Hayward and John Lodge.

355. Devo: Space Junk *****

Devo (short for 'De-evolution') was frequently derided as a one-joke band back in their heyday, and while that charge may be true, time has been kind to these Kent State art-rockers in disguise. In retrospect, their 1978 debut Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo! is as much a piece of new wave history as the Talking Heads' early albums, and the Brian Eno production makes the comparison less ridiculous than it may seem on the surface. Indeed, the chiming guitars are very Heads-like, and Mark Mothersbaugh's vocals, full of goofy, hiccupy accents wrapped around a humanist message is very much in the style of David Byrne, for whom Eno produced More Songs About Buildings and Food the same year. In fact, nearly all of Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo! sounds less disposable now than it did when it was new, and would probably appeal to the power-pop fans who were afraid to try it back in the day. It's art-rock all right, but at a brisk 2:13, it won't wear out its welcome, and the playing is punchy. Accused by an out-of-it Rolling Stone of being Fascists, Devo's campy conformity to their baked philosophy was ultimately a humanistic message at heart.

356. Sandie Shaw: Message Understood ***

Chris Andrews, Sandie Shaw's chief songwriter, penned this charming little pop ditty, which sounds like Burt Bacharach writing for Mary Wells. It's innocuous in the way that only 60's British girl-pop could be, but therein lies its subtle charms, along with a brassy horn section that dates this recording to 1966. Along with Dusty Springfield and Lulu, Sandie Shaw was one of the bigger names of U.K. girl pop of the 60's, although she never reached the heights in the U.S. the others did, and saw her career dry up first. That said, she had enough catchy pop hits written by good songwriters and arranged by big names to make her worth exploring once you've run out of British Invasion groups to explore. A little on the sweet side, which means you've got to have a thing for 60's pop not to gag. Shaw later recorded in more of a cabaret sort of vein not unlike Mary Hopkin, and a minor personal scandal scuttled her squeaky-clean image, leading to her retirement in 1970; she re-emerged in the 1980's when the Smiths' Morrissey revealed himself to be a fan; she cut a single with the Smiths backing in 1986; she also worked with the Jesus and Mary Chain, of all people.

357. Concrete Blonde: Make Me Cry *****

This was a bit of a surprise when it came on today. Concrete Blonde were part of the mid-80's L.A. post-punk circuit where they shared gigs with X, the Go-Go's, and Wall of Voodoo. Their 1987 debut album Concrete Blonde, featured the anthem "Still in Hollywood", a tough-as-nails statement of purpose. "Make Me Cry", from the same album, sounds almost like the Cowboy Junkies; a tender, melodic, acoustic alt-country number featuring an unusually winsome and bittersweet vocal and harmony from Johnette Napolitano. While Napolitano sometimes came across as a more Goth Chrissie Hynde, here she's convincingly country, even if I don't quite buy the twang in her voice; the song's windswept ambiance compliments the vocals nicely. The band, also led by guitarist Jim Mankey, originally was called Dream 6, but a suggestion from I.R.S. labelmate Michael Stipe resulted in a name-change just prior to this album's release.

358. The Boo Radleys: Lazy Day ****

The Boo Radleys never quite settled on a musical identity, which has hurt them in the long run in the legacy sweepstakes. As labelmates with My Bloody Valentine at the shoegaze-oriented Creation records, they shared with them their love of noise; fuzz, pedals, studio trickery, introverted vocals were part of their bag, and all make their appearance here. However, they clearly didn't want the shoegaze pigeonhole to apply to them; they had ambition. So unlike their fellow shoegazers, they favored linear, uptempo, jangle-pop derived tunes, as opposed to swirling, shimmery, noisefests. "Lazy Day" hurries right along, hanging its hook on its forward moving guitars; while there's plenty of white noise and static to keep a shoegaze fan feeling at home, there's anough of a tune here to please, say, an R.E.M. or dB's fan as well. "Lazy Day" is from Everything's Alright Forever, the band's 1992 debut album, and first release for Creation. The band's peak was in 1994-1995 when they released two excellent albums, Giant Steps and Wake Up Boo!, the latter reaching top-10 in the U.K. American audiences could never really figure them out, however, and by 1996 they had been dropped from their U.S. label, which eventually led to their 1998 breakup. Now mostly forgotten, they actually were one of the key early 90's bands; a missing link between shoegaze, roots rock, and Britpop.

359. The Police: Walking In Your Footprints ***

Synchronicity, the 1983 album that was the fifth and final from the U.K. trio the Police, was at once their most ambitious recording and also their least cohesive. As was part of general Police policy since 1980's Zenyatta Mondatta, all of the world is fair game for the plundering of musical cues, and "Walking In Your Footsteps" is based almost entirely around a polyrhythm that undoubtedly had its genesis in some uncredited African tribe. Stewart Copeland's drums, therefore, are the star of the show here, although Andy Summers manages to coax some remarkable jungle bird cries from his guitar. Sting is the weak link here; he sounds disinterested, and the lyrics, an ode to dinosaurs, is pretty silly. These days, it's kind of hard to justify listening to stuff like this, with so much authentic worldbeat available, but the Police were one of the great synthesists of their age, and thus at no time does this not sound like the Police. The album was a mega #1, and nearly all of it turns up on the radio to this day. One of the few songs that seldom does is "Walking In Your Footprints", which ultimately works better in the context of the album, where its cornier aspects benefit from similar company.

360. Bonnie Raitt: Women Be Wise ****

Bonnie Raitt's biggest commercial triumphs came so late in her career (1989) that it's sometimes easy to forget how far she goes back. "Women Be Wise" is from her 1971 debut, Bonnie Raitt, which cast her as more of a blues singer than anything else. "Woman Be Wise" sounds something like Geoff and Maria Muldaur's blues excursions of the same era, although Raitt is a far more commanding singer than Muldaur ever was. The song is piano-based in a New Orleans sort of vein, but with a hint of laid-back California tucked away in there. Credited to John Beach/Sippie Wallace (Beach is the pianist), the song itself is homey and warm, although not especially memorable on its own merits; what stands out is Raitt's vocal, which could have established her as a bona-fide blues singer, had than been the direction she had chosen. Instead, she pursued an eclectic path, which has turned into one of the longest careers by a woman in any genre of music.

Listen to Concrete Blonde: Make Me Cry (1987)

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Artist: Album (label, release date) 1-5 stars

Iron Butterfly: In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida (JVC Japan, May 23, 2006) ***
Harry Nilsson: Everybody's Talkin': The Very Best of Harry Nilsson (RCA, May 23, 2006) ****
Uriah Heep: Look At Yourself (Universal Special Products, May 23, 2006) ***
J. Geils Band: Freeze Frame (Beat Goes On, May 23, 2006) ***

Iron Butterfly: In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida

It's pretty hard to take this album seriously in 2006, especially since it was ridiculed at the time it was released. However, it became the biggest selling record in Atco's history in 1968, a year before Led Zeppelin's debut would eclipse the record. Most rock fans are familiar with the title cut, a 17-minute relic of 60's indulgence, complete with heavy gothic organ, drum solos, a rudimentary bass riff that seemingly never ends coupled with flash proto-metal guitar, and Doug Ingle's deep baritone mumble for a lead vocal. The song was a hit in an abridged 3-minute edit, and the album peaked at #4 on the charts. "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida" (legend says it was to be called "In The Garden of Eden" until Ingle kept blowing the lyrics) is what it will always be; a snapshot of the moment when flower-power psychedelia began its mutation into the very first heavy metal ever. Since it took up all of side two back when albums had "sides", the rest of the disc is comprised of only 5 numbers with quaint titles like "Flowers and Beads" and "My Mirage". How much you need to hear them depends on how deeply into 1960's archaeology you want to go. I can tell you that "Most Anything You Want" is the best track, a kind of Association-meets-"Touch Me"-era Doors with plenty of fuzz guitar and organ. "Termination" is the closest to proto-metal they get besides the title track, and even there they sound pretty lightweight. Ingle and drummer Ron Bushy are the only holdovers from the band's 1968 debut, Heavy; the newcomers were 18-year old Erik Braunn, who supplies the fuzzy, heavy guitars and Lee Dorman, responsible for that famous bassline. The San Diego-based Iron Butterfly never repeated their success; their 1969 followup Ball, while more ambitious, faded after going gold, and by 1971 they were finished. A brief revival in 1975 yielded two failed (but interesting) albums, and the surviving members of the band have reunited several times since. In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida belongs in the rock historian's collection, but casual listeners probably only need the title track, if that.

Harry Nilsson: Everybody's Talkin': The Very Best of Harry Nilsson

If ever there was a man who threw away his talent, it was Harry Nilsson. Once upon a time, Nilsson was a smooth voiced crooner who had a way with melody and a very crackpot sense of arrangement and production, that often relied on lush orchestrations bent in the service of bizarre pop ditties unlike anyone else's. During his peak, from the late 60's through the early 70's, he was responsible for a number of charming, goofball songs (which he wrote or covered) as well as some in a more traditional vein; among his hits were Fred Neil's "Everybody's Talkin'", Badfinger's "Without You", and originals like "Coconut", "I Guess The Lord Must Be In New York City", "One", "Spaceman", "Without Her", and "Me and My Arrow". The Beatles became fans early in his career when they heard his layered, scrambled, diced and spliced medley of Beatles songs "You Can't Do That" from 1968. In 1974, he became drinking buddies with John Lennon during Lennon's famous "lost weekend" and essentially ruined his silky voice; the pair recorded Pussy Cats at this time, and Nilsson sounded ravaged. He never was the same again; although he fulfilled his contract with RCA by putting out a string of offbeat, strange albums in the 1970's that almost nobody bought, by 1979 he had stopped recording, and pretty much did nothing but laze around until his death from a heart attack in 1993. A Coca Cola ad in 2005 used "Coconut" and alerted a new generation to his offbeat charm; now RCA is giving his back catalog a new push, re-releasing his best-selling albums and offering this 14-song sampler. A sampler is all it is; the aforementioned songs are all on it (except "You can't Do That"), and a few others including the single version of "Jump Into The Fire" an uncharacteristic hard rock song that is much better in its manic, full-length album version. Nothing from Pussy Cats or later are here, nor his pre-"Everybody's Talkin'" material. But if you like "Coconut", and what to see what else the man had to offer, this is as good a jumping in place as any. Those who already have these tunes are urged to explore Pandemonium Shadow Show, Nilsson Sings Newman, Nilsson Schmilsson, Son of Schmilsson, The Point, and maybe even the standards album A Little Touch of Schmilsson in the Night, for a better picture.

Uriah Heep: Look At Yourself

Uriah Heep never gets any respect. Critical disdain greeted their 1970 debut, and followed them every inch of the way. Yet, they've survived, multiple lineup changes notwithstanding, and continue to tour and release albums to the present day. Look At Yourself, their third album, was their big 1971 commercial breakthrough, earning them their first chart appearance in U.S. (#93), and sold well in Europe. It still doesn't get much respect, although time has been kind to it, and it stands up reasonably well to its competition of the time, which included discs by Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, and Deep Purple. Of the three, it is Deep Purple Uriah Heep most resembled, thanks to Ken Hensley's busy Hammond organ, David Byron's histrionic wails, and Mick Box's crunchy, meaty guitar. The centerpiece is "July Morning" a 10-minute early metal classic that hangs on a circular organ riff and plows forward with the certainty of an 18-wheeler before alternating between soft and hard, building to a prog-rock crescendo. The title track is an uptempo rocker also propelled by organ and featuring one of Byron's best vocals. Elsewhere, "Wanna Be Free" showcases Box's guitar, "Tears In My Eyes" is a delicate progressive track that recalls Yes to a vague degree, "Love Machine" gallops along on 8 cylinders, and the other tunes hold their own. Look At Yourself is Uriah Heep just as their sound was gelling; an improvement over the ponderous prog-rock of Salisbury from 1970, but not quite the semi-masterpiece their fourth album Demons and Wizards would be. Fans of early heavy metal should enjoy this album; particularly Deep Purple, Queen, and Judas Priest fans. Non-fans will probably be put off by the falsetto backing vocals and plodding rhythms. I fall somewhere in-between, but found it worthwhile in the end.

J. Geils Band: Freeze Frame

What happened to these guys? After spending the 1970's in relative obscurity, this Boston band broke through big-time with Freeze Frame, a 1981 album that peaked at #1 and spawned 3 hits, "Centerfold", "Angel in Blue", and "Freeze-Frame". All were catchy tunes, and the album itself was quite good, one of the better releases of 1981, which was one of the worst years ever for major-label rock. The band had changed their sound considerably over the years; renowned for their stage show, the band had specialized in a sweaty, gritty r&b at the outset. By the time of Freeze Frame, most of the r&b was gone, although not entirely, and the band had discovered a magic way with a hook. Freeze Frame was actually a continuation of the change in direction signalled by the 1980 hit "Love Stinks", and the band seemed poised to become one of the biggest of the 1980's until in-fighting between singer/songwriter Peter Wolf and keyboardist/songwriting partner Seth Justman came to a head; the pair split at the height of their success, and while Wolf managed a successful solo debut in 1984, the J. Geils Band's next album tanked, and the group split up for good. So Freeze Frame now has some of the patina many early 80's new wave/power pop bands have; a slightly disposable feel, despite the hooks. Aside from the hits, there are some interesting moments here, including the cacophonous "Rage in the Cage" and the almost punky sounding "Piss on the Wall"; all of it well played and fairly easy to digest. However, the band's failure to capitalize on this success makes this album sound like more of a dead end than it needed to.

Also out this week: Five post-peak 1980's albums (Girls to Chat & Boys to Bounce, In The Mood for Something Rude, Rock 'n' Roll Outlaws, Tight Shoes, Zig-Zag Walk) from second tier hard-rockers Foghat on Wounded Bird; The Best of Divine, yes Divine from all those John Waters flicks, on Delta Blue, Put A Little Love In Your Heart a 1969 album by British pop singer Jackie DeShannon, on RPM UK; Paul Carrak's post-Squeeze 1982 solo album Suburban Voodoo on Acadia; Sammy Hagar's post-Van Halen 1997 solo disc, Marching to Mars on Geffen Gold Line; Bill Haley's Jukebox a good 1961 album on Collectibles; This Land Is Your Land, a Woodie Guthrie compilation spanning 1940-1947 on Living Era; Ultravox, the 1977 sophomore album by synth-punk pioneers Ultravox on Universal International; and a good new Neil Diamond compilation of his early years, Forever Neil Diamond, on Shout! Factory.

Watch Iron Butterfly: In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida [American Bandstand, 1968]

     

Find 18 million rare CDs and out-of-print LPs at MusicStack

Neverending Randomplay is a feature in which I let my J-River Media Center choose what we get listen to. My collection currently stands at 23,323 titles. The lion's share are rock of all genres, with a mix of pop, blues, country, pre-rock, jazz, reggae, soul, electronic, avant-garde, hip-hop, rap, bluegrass, trance, Afrobeat, J-Pop, trip-hop, lounge, worldbeat, commercial jingles, etc. filling it out. I don't influence the track selection in any way; whatever comes up, comes up. Rated 1-5 stars.

341. The Shins: Young Pilgrims *****

This is damn near irresistable, as is most of the Shins' 2003 sophomore album, Chutes Too Narrow. James Mercer's expressive vocal rests upon a sparse but tuneful acoustic and muted electric bed; the lyrics are harrowing, with a refrain that ends "I know there is this side of me that wants to grab the yoke from the pilot and just fly the whole mess into the sea". Think of that, in this post-9/11 world. But no negative fest, this song is an incredibly complex ball of mixed emotion; scared, brave, desperate, heroic, self-aware, offhand, well-thought, articulate, nihilistic, sad, resolute, melodic, eerie, pretty. This is the second time I've heard it, and both times it got me to drop everything and turn up the volume. Wound up playing it 6 times today. So call me late to the party, but dig those Shins. The band itself originated in Albuquerque, N.M. in 1997, while Mercer was in a band called Flake (later Flake Music), which had been around since 1992 and had toured with sadcore Modest Mouse. The Shins were formed by singer/guitarist Mercer and Flake Music's keyboardist Marty Crandall and drummer Jesse Sandoval, with Dave Hernandez and Ron Skrasek from Albuquerque punk group Scared of Chaka, the latter two returned to their mothership shortly after. Now stars of the lo-fi indie sadcore scene, sharing gigs with Preston School of Industry and Red House Painters, they've convinced me they're one of the most interesting bands of the 00's so far. "Saint Simon" is another great track from the same album.

342. Frank Sinatra/Nancy Sinatra: Something Stupid ***

Okay, I'll 'fess up and say I've always liked Nancy Sinatra more than I should. Not so far as to ever have bought an album by her, but that's what things like iTunes are for. And I certainly can't deny old Frank his props; Songs For Swinging Lovers still works as intended, I've discovered. And I'm a forgiver of 60's schmaltz like nobody else. So why have I never taken a shine to this? Partly because of its relatively atonal melody. Partly because Frank sounds bored and out of it, and Nancy sounds, well, bored and out of it. Partly because I hate duets by family members. The song itself, released in 1967 as a single, went to #1, and appeared on the 1967 album Frank Sinatra and the World We Knew, which was mostly a singles collection. The album is interesting because it represents the most "rock" of Sinatra's career; Sinatra was always vocal about his disdain for rock music, even when he covered the Beatles and Simon & Garfunkel. On some cuts, there are actually 1967 vintage fuzz guitars; some of the cuts feature the production team and musicians usually present on Nancy's recordings of the era. "Somethin' Stupid", written by C. Carson Parks, however, bears none of that, and is one of the less interesting numbers on the album.

343. Pink Floyd: Comfortably Numb [live] ***

Pulse, the 1995 live album famous for coming with a red LED embedded in the spine that blinked until it burned out, was part of the post-Roger Waters Pink Floyd's campaign to cement their claim on the band's legacy. "Comfortably Numb" needs no introduction; it was one of the cornerstones of The Wall, from 1979, Waters' next-to-last album with the band. Pulse's main draw was the uninterrupted performance of Dark Side of the Moon, which sounds fine except that Waters is missing, and he's missed. Without Water's somewhat crackpot sounding verses, which alternated with Gilmour's choruses, "Comfortably Numb" has one of the edges that made it interesting sanded away. Another problem is that Pink Floyd has long depended on a raft of hidden-in-the-shadows supporting musicians, leaving doubt as to how much of the actual band is playing, and stripping it of any of the character it had in the Ummagumma days, let alone the colorful Syd Barrett era, before Gilmour was even in the band. Pulse takes no chances, recreates the studio recordings almost to the very note, and lacks a lot of the character that made Waters an essential ingredient. So while there's nothing wrong with this, it isn't very right, either. Stick with the original.

344. Bob Dylan: To Ramona [live] ****

In the wake of Woodstock, there was a rash of enormous rock festivals attended by audiences numbering sometimes in the hundreds of thousands. Some, like Altamont, were utter disasters. Others, like the Celebration at Big Sur, the Dutch Stamping Grounds festival, the Watkins Glen Festival, were mostly unmarred by trouble, and had good performances. One of the best, in terms of lineup and general organization was the August 26th - 30th, 1970 Isle of Wight Festival. Names assembled included the Doors, the Who, ELP, Jimi Hendrix, Jethro Tull, the Moody Blues, Donovan, Miles Davis, Free, Leonard Cohen, Joni Mitchell (who was absent from Woodstock despite penning its theme song), Ten Years After, and Kris Kristofferson, among others. Plus a then-rare appearance by reclusive Bob Dylan. A documentary film and CD have been released, called Message to Love, on which Dylan is represented by "Desolation Row". "To Ramona" was originally on his fourth and final purely acoustic album, Another Side of Bob Dylan (1964). By 1970, Dylan was going through a strange time; he had become largely media-shy and wasn't performing much; he also released his famously worst album, Self Portrait the same year. Thus, his performance at Isle of Wight is not one of his better ones; he seemed ill at ease and tense. However, "To Ramona", which here is a very good quality audience recording on the easily found Bob Dylan at the Isle of Wight bootleg, is fairly touching and sweet. Sung in a toned-down version of his Nashville Skyline croon, which actually trembles at one point, and all alone with an acoustic guitar, it captures Dylan sounding a little more naked and vulnerable than we're used to hearing him. Not sure if a legal version of this exists, but it's easily found on filesharing networks.

345. Billy Joel: Famous Last Words ***

"Famous Last Words" in many respects are the last words from singer/songwriter Billy Joel; the closing track of the last pop album his has thusfar produced, River of Dreams from 1993. As such, it almost explicity announces his quasi-retirement from pop music. The album peaked at #1, his first #1 album since Glass Houses in 1980, so his absence from recording seemed puzzling in the 90's; while he's kept busy with tours with Elton John, a Broadway show, and some exercises in classical composition, there've been no more pop songs from this once fairly prolific songwriter. River of Dreams did not fare well with the critics at the time, and it is arguably the weakest album of a career that never garnered much critical respect. However, "Famous Last Words" actually has some of the easy-going tunefulness that made his late 70's albums so hummable; it's a better track than most of his late 80's work. That said, it's still Joel singing about Joel, so there's nothing here compelling enough to make one seek out the song again. But it's inoffensive when it turns up in randomplay.

346. Hot Tuna: I See The Light ****

Hot Tuna, the acoustic/electric folk/blues combo of ex-Jefferson Airplane members Jorma Kaukonen and Jack Casady, originally disbanded in 1978. Kaukonen spent the next few years working on solo albums, which were good, but minor efforts. Casady briefly joined a punk group, of all things, called SVT, which released a good EP and a so-so album in the early 80's. By the mid 80's, the duo must have come to the conclusion that they were worth more together than separately, and regrouped; Kaukonen keeps a solo career going on on the side, and Casady splits his time with the reformed Jefferson Starship. Their first studio album in 14 years, Pair A Dice Found appeared in 1990 to mixed reviews; in 1992 and 1993 a pair of live albums followed on Relix records, Live at Sweetwater I & II. The Sweetwater stuff, recorded in a small club, is pretty good, sounding very much like the Hot Tuna debut album from 1970, except with more originals. "I See The Light" is one of the originals, written by Kaukonen (new member Michael Falzerano co-wrote a few tracks as well), and features Kaukonen's always-tasteful country blues picking and Casady's rumbling bass. Former Jefferson Starship keyboardist/bassist Pete Sears contributes some spur of the moment improvised piano. Important, relevant music this isn't, but it's hard to quibble with the fine playing, and Kaukonen's nasal voice is in unusually good form. Fans will find both Sweetwater discs to be key additions to a Hot Tuna collection, while novices might want to check out some of the 70's stuff first.

347. Grateful Dead: Saint of Circumstance [live] ***

"Saint of Circumstance" is a Weir-Barlow number from what is usually considered the Grateful Dead's weakest album, Go To Heaven, from 1980. Some Deadheads dislike the previous studio album Shakedown Street even more, but the difference between the two is significant; keyboardist Keith Godchaux had been killed in a car accident in the interim, and wife/vocalist Donna Godchaux had departed as well. Their replacement was keyboardist Brent Mydland, who had been in a band called Silver in the 70's. When Mydland joined the band, he was immediately given a co-starring role despite his essentially minor-league status, and the band's sound changed considerably. Mydland's vocals were high pitched to the point of almost being falsetto, and his style of keyboard playing was devoid of much of the blues Godchaux (and Pigpen, back in the glory days) had brought to the instrument. So while this sounds like the Grateful Dead, it's an inferior version, one not just in transition but also lost in the disco/new wave era. This live version appeared on re-issues of Go To Heaven and doesn't rescue the original tune; Weir's vocals fly off their mark early on, and he stuggles to get them back on track. Mydland's backing stands out like a sore thumb, both in terms of vocals and somewhat cheesy-sounding synth, which marred a lot of Dead tunes in the 80's. The only real hero is Jerry Garcia, whose guitar soars, although even he doesn't quite approach the visionary heights the band once flew. It isn't terrible, but it isn't very good either. Mydand improved over the years, but died in 1991, the third Grateful Dead keyboardist to reach an untimely end.

348. Johnny Cash: Hurt *****

"Hurt" comes from the 2002 Rick Rubin-produced American IV: The Man Comes Around, the final disc of Cash's career, and his fourth for Rubin's American records. The song is a Nine Inch Nails track, from The Downward Spiral, and despite its unlikely choice as a cover, Cash makes it his own. While Trent Reznor was all about shock in the 90's, nothing he pulled off is quite as shocking as Cash's death rattle of an old man's voice intoning "I hurt myself today/To see if I still feel/I focus on the pain/The only thing that's real" It's one thing for a nihilistic twentysomething to sing these lyrics, and another for a God-fearing outlaw like Cash. Rubin's production builds things to a dizzying crescendo interrupted by spare, close-miked lulls. Cash's enunciation is chilling, and the wintery vibe makes this quite possibly the most compelling rock song ever recorded by someone over 70. Cash, whose legend spanned nearly 50 years, died a year later, in 2003. With "Hurt" he went out a winner.

349. Death In Vegas: Hands Around My Throat *****

Death in Vegas is the conceptual big beat electronica outfit headed by U.K. disc jockey Richard Fearless. Noteworthy about Death in Vegas is their reliance on rock beats and aggressive guitars and keyboards; unlike many of their electronica peers, most of Death in Vegas' recordings could be called "rock" without inspiring snickers. Death In Vegas also employs a lot of guest vocalists on their albums; Iggy Pop, Liam Gallagher, Paul Weller, Hope Sandoval, and others have taken turns at the mike. "Hands Around My Throat" is from the 2002 album Scorpio Rising, and is one of the best cuts on a somewhat unfairly maligned album. Nicola Kuperus (from Adult) handles vocals, and gives a sinister, scary performance, while the song itself is hung on a hypnotic synth loop, with an almost early 80's new wave beat (think Missing Persons, Blondie, Berlin) beneath some angular hard rock guitar. The beat is propulsive, the guitars have meat, the electronica flourishes serve an admirably supporting role instead of taking over, and the whole package is a pretty solid cut. As is customary in the fast-changing trendy world of electronica, Death in Vegas are already yeaterday's news, although they've continued releasing albums worth hearing, most recently Fabriclive.23 in 2005.

350. Pere Ubu: Vacuum In My Head ****

"Vacuum In My Head" is a weird cut from a mixed album that happened to appear during this legendary band's least interesting period, the mid-90's. Ray Gun Suitcase marked a return to indie label recording for these Ohio art-punk veterans. In some ways, Pere Ubu were a band that seemed cutout for the alternative rock era; with their groundbreaking albums of the 70's mostly unheard by the great unwashed masses, and a faithful cult, they always seemed one album away from finally getting their props. It didn't happen; Ray Gun Suitcase, from 1995, returned the band to the darker, more psychotic sounds they explored in their heyday ("Vacuum In My Head" is like a more introspective and damaged "30 Seconds Over Tokyo"), after flirting with melodicism for a few years. Diehard fans will welcome this return to basics; the minimalist guitar and strange noises still sound like only Pere Ubu can do them, and David Thomas' tortured spitting of the lyrics -which are demented- are about as far from singing as you can get. So at the time, it seemed like a return to form, at least the form that is Pere Ubu, although it turned out to be another false hope among many. So far, the last word from the band has been St. Arkansas, from 2002. That one seemed like it might be a breakthrough too; it wasn't.

Listen to the Shins: Young Pilgrims (2003)

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Some cities inspire songs. New York City has always been lyric material. Boston, Detroit, Dallas, New Orleans, San Francisco, Memphis, Chicago; they've all inspired a lot of music in many different genres of music.

None, however, seem to capture the imagination of songwriters like Los Angeles. Perhaps it's because so many aspiring songwriters spend time in L.A. Maybe it's because of the city itself; a city of contradictions, as city that's both very self-reflective and in love with its own artifice.

Today, Freeway Jam does something a little different. Rather than explore another musical genre, we'll go on a little social anthropology excursion, and see what clues about the City of Angels we can divine from the last fifty years of popular music.

25 great songs about Los Angeles (there are many more) include:

1. X: Los Angeles

X were integral to the L.A. punk scene in the early 80's. Their 1980 debut, Los Angeles, was produced by Ray Manzerak of the Doors in a sort of generational torch passing. However, aside from a cover of "Soul Kitchen" on the debut, there wasn't much in their music that resembled the Doors beyond a palpable sense of chaos and dread. Song titles like "Johnny Hit and Run Pauline" and "The Phone's Off The Hook, But You're Not" pretty much tell the story of the band's early outlook, which was nihilistic and somewhat disturbed. Over the years, they'd add more psychobilly and roots rock influence to their music, but on "Los Angeles" they are a full tilt punk band, whose dual vocals from Exene Cervenka and John Doe gave them a sonic texture more resonant than many of their competitors. "Los Angeles" is portrait of the city as frightening place, where people are driven mad and the days turn to nights, they change in an instant...

2. Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band: Hollywood Nights

This was Seger's message to the faithful back home in Michigan. Sure, he may have gone Hollywood, but he was still a simple old midwestern boy at heart. The 1980 album Stranger In Town marked the end of his mega-platinum peak, although he'd ride momentum through the first half of the 1980's to notch a few more hits before the fade set in. Like spiritual cousin Bruce Springsteen, Seger took a lot of flack for abandoning his root constituency by moving west, although one can hardly blame him. "Hollywood Nights" paints L.A. (or L.A. women) as corrupter of innocents who are razzledazzled by the view of the lights from the hills. It's cliched as a B-actress' memoirs, but Seger manages to convey enough working-class sweat to make the tale believable. Still a radio staple to this day.

3. Arlo Guthrie: Coming Into Los Angeles

Arlo Guthrie, son of Woodie, sang "Coming Into Los Angeles" at Woodstock, and enjoyed a few years of modest sales and even a couple of hits in the late 60's-early 70's. "Coming Into Los Angeles" portrays Los Angeles as destination point for smuggled drugs; his almost naive "Don't touch my bags if you please, mister customs man" portrays a world no longer existent in the post 9-11 age; who is going to smuggle in a couple of keys (with which he rhymes 'Angeles') in their carry on these days? Still, Los Angeles continues to love its drugs, and they've got to be coming from somewhere. So while "Coming Into Los Angeles" may be hippie relic, its sentiments still are serviceable today. A studio version of the song appears on Guthrie's 1969 album Running Down The Road, but it's the Woodstock version he's most well-known for.

4. The Doors: L.A. Woman

For many, the Doors were the quintessential Los Angeles band, formed in Venice, full of theater, cinematic songs, melodrama, booze and drugs, and a muddleheaded peace ethic. Long after the band was derided by the rock intelligentsia as "overrated" at best, and ridiculous at worst, Los Angeles has always had a special place in its heart for them. So it makes sense that in 1971, the band would dedicate an album to the city that embraced them. The title cut, "L.A. Woman" captures all anyone needs to know about the Doors in 2071; except for the bass player they hired especially for the sessions, all the typical Doors moves are present; long keyboard parts, convoluted poetry, a wildeyed earnest romanticism coupled with a vaguely sleazy worldview, and a hummability despite itself. The album continued a comeback of sorts that had begun with Morrison Motel in 1970, but Morrison wouldn't live to see his love letter to Los Angeles become a perennial; L.A. Woman was completed weeks before his death. Morrison's message: cops in cars, topless bars, never saw a woman so alone...

5. Mamas and the Papas: 12:30 (Young Girls Are Coming To The Canyon)

The Mamas and Papas, transplanted from the East Coast, had already established their West Coast credentials with "California Dreamin'", which mentions L.A., their first hit. However, their biggest L.A. specific hit was "12:30 (Young Girls are Coming to the Canyon)" a 1967 Summer of Love hit that took the dreamin' into actual migration; it's a lush harmony number that conjures up images of flower girls all looking like Michelle Phillips, traipsing through Topanga with love in their hearts and smiles on their faces in contrast to "dark and dirty" New York City, which gets dissed big time by these DC-area folkies. Californians who complain about the massive youth influx in the 60's, which helped ruin L.A. and S.F. when they were overrun, can lay a lot of blame at the Mamas and Papas' doorstep; they romanticized L.A. in "Calfirnia Dreamin'" and "12:30", and John Phillips wrote "San Francisco (Be Sure To Wear Flowers In Your Hair)" which misled thousands of naive kids. That said, "12:30" is still an awfully pretty track, a distorted snapshot of one summer in L.A. history that will never be repeated.

6. Red Hot Chili Peppers: Under The Bridge

Los Angeles was in a bad way in 1992. It had become one of the most violent cities in the nation, with drive-by shootings running amok, racial tensions that erupted in the Rodney King riots, a deterioration of city services. "Under the Bridge", a memoir of Anthony Keidis' heroin days was almost touching at the time in the love it expressed for the city, which was as humiliated and degraded as any junkie. It paints a portrait of the city as omnipresent companion, who sees good deeds and by implication, bad ones too. Even the most alienated find some comfort in the existence of the city, and see it on their own terms, as it witnesses the life each carves out without judgment. You're on your own here, but you're never alone even when you're alone. As a veteran junkie journeyman band, little known outside of L.A. until "Under the Bridge" broke them in a huge way, these sentiments, which are not unlike Jim Morrison's romanticism of "L.A. Woman" in some respects, come easily and honestly. They'd revisit L.A. as theme many times, including on their 1999 album Californication.

7. Randy Newman: I Love L.A.

Can't leave this off the list. A wiseguy take on L.A. from wiseguy singer/songwriter Newman, who used to make the "artist most likely to get punched in the nose" lists regularly in the late 70's and early 80's. Smug, rich, with lots of movie connections, Newman is a particularly Angeleno sort of wiseguy, and Angelenos still generally love him for it, even if his shtick has long ago stopped charming people east of the 110 Freeway. "I Love L.A." appeared on his 1982 album Trouble in Paradise and remained the city anthem through the 1980's, especially during 1984, when L.A. hosted the Summer Olympics. "I Love L.A." cranks up the smugness to cartoon levels and takes the requisite swipe at New York and Chicago as it draws a picture of street after street under gloriously sunny skies, "Looks like another perfect day; I love L.A.", while noting the beauty of L.A. women as well as the bum on his knees. Smug sure; but despite its overboard irony, it actually does a good job of taking a thumbnail sketch of 1980's Los Angeles.

8. Sheryl Crow: All I Wanna Do

Sheryl Crow's woozy 1993 debut smash "All I Wanna Do" did a good job of capturing the hungover, morning-after L.A. of the post-riot 90's; while on the surface it appears to be a party song, and it is, it is an oddly non-joyous sounding one. Instead, it's jaded and cooler-than-thou. Yet it also conveys a rally-the-troops sense of let's shake off this malaise, which was an appreciated enough sentiment in 1993 that the song became something of a rallying cry despite (or because of) its laid-back, still-drinking-at-sunrise sentiment. Crow herself was already a veteran of the L.A. music scene by the time she got to record her debut; this adds a patina of believability to the song. She never did really revisit the oddball viewpoint she expressed on this song; her later work has been much more conventional. But this remains an L.A. favorite to this day.

9. Guns 'n' Roses: Paradise City

I could just as easily mention the notorious "One In A Million" here, which is as much about L.A. as the Michael Douglas flick Falling Down, expressing the same xenophobic pre-riot mindset: can't these lousy foreigners go back to Africa, or Mexico, or China, or wherever they come from? In truth, "One In A Million" as abhorrent is it is, is probably a more accurate portrayal of L.A. than "Paradise City", which could only have been written by the biggest hair band on Sunset Strip. Essentially the message here is: I love the babes in L.A., can't wait to get off the road, where the babes aren't as hot. Guns 'n' Roses, of course, never capitalized on what seemed certain to become an enormous level of stardom; after more than a decade of inaction interrupted only by fuck-ups, Chinese Democracy has yet to see the light of day. Posers since day one, G 'n' R will always be remembered for their Sunset Strip heroics in the 1980's, but Angelenos seemed to have moved on.

10. U2: Desire (Hollywood Remix)

U2 debuted "Where the Streets Have No Name" by playing on a downtown L.A. rooftop without a permit and were busted just like the Beatles were when they tried it in London. The band had spent the better part of the year touring America, developing a romantic fondness for and sociologist's curiosity about the desert ("Joshua Tree") and points west. For their next album, Rattle and Hum from 1988, "Desire" was chosen as a single, and a special "Hollywood Remix" accompanied it. A relic of L.A.'s violent late 80's, it opens with the sound of either a car alarm or a siren, followed by news reports of a Hollywood shooting, and sounds of gunfire, and a sampled snippet labeling it "Voodoo Economics", a buzzword from the '88 election. While the song in its original form doesn't mention L.A. specifically, its themes of drugs, guns, and reckless ambition resonated perfectly with the then-current metropolitan milieu. Hollywood now has undergone a remarkable and successful facelift and gentrification; the shoot 'em up Hollywood of 1988 that this single reflects is largely swept clean.

11. 10,000 Maniacs: City of Angels

Earnest and concerned 80's college radio favorites 10,000 Maniacs confront the obvious contradictions between the "Paradise" image so often invoked (see Guns 'n' Roses, the Eagles, Randy Newman) and the largest homeless population in the United States, largely centered around 6th Street (where Axl growled at the foreigners in "One In A Million, and Randy Newman loved in "I Love L.A.") The song is a lush romantic waltz with lilting chorus and delicate touches throughout as befits a city of angels, while Natalie Merchant supplies one of her loveliest vocals; the lyrics, a little on the goody-goody side and offering nothing but a tsk tsk about the situation, basically say "Hey I expected paradise, and all I got were these homeless, what's up with that?" As it wasn't a single, it never really makes lists such as this one, but it makes a valid point about 1987 Los Angeles that still hasn't been fixed nearly 20 years later.

12. Frank Sinatra: L.A. Is My Lady

"L.A. Is My Lady" was Sinatra's attempt to cash in on Olympic fever in 1984, and perhaps come up with a classic along the lines of "New York, New York". Sinatra was 69 at the time, and sounds decrepit; it and the album that shares its title would be the last serious recordings of his career. The results aren't pretty; Quincy Jones' vaguely discofied synthetic-jazz production job doesn't suit Sinatra at all, and despite a nice showbizzy finale, Sinatra's vocal just doesn't muster enough energy to make it a worthwhile anthem. The single tanked, and aside from Duets I & II in 1990, Sinatra was done. Its sentiments are nice though; it's another personalization of the city itself (see L.A. Woman, Under the Bridge) but from the viewpoint of a lifelong winner. That view: L.A. never lets me down; no other place like it.

13. Missing Persons: Walking In L.A.

While Missing Persons ("Words", "Destination Unknown"), an early 80's new wave unit with a decidedly space-age campiness to it, aren't well remembered by the world at large, "Walking in L.A." will always be on the L.A. song pantheon. Things have changed a lot since 1983, when this song peaked at #70 nationally. Now L.A. has a new (small, inadequate) subway system, and has become a much denser city, so you do see people walking in places they didn't walk 23 years ago. But for the most part, the song still holds true; while the verses that end "nobody walks in L.A." aren't entirely true anymore, the last verse that says "only a nobody walks in L.A." is probably still accurate. The song also namedrops a couple of local landmarks, which no longer exist. One thing that always set L.A. apart from other major urban areas was its long blocks of deserted sidewalks and slow, dense traffic. The sidewalks see a little action now, but the traffic is slower and denser.

14. Tom Petty: Free Fallin'

And let us not forget the frequently forgotten San Fernando Valley, the butt of many a joke south of the Hollywood Hills, mile after mile of stripmalls and surburban tract housing; often ridiculed as the most boring place on earth. While most of the Valley is part of the city of Los Angeles (having lost a referendum to leave the city in 2002), it might as well be on Mars; in 1989, when "Free Fallin'" was released, it was still a mostly working-to-middle class suburb that was remarkably self contained, in much the same way Long Island is to New York City. Petty's take is a little goofy in places "the bad boys are standing in the shadows, and the good girls are home with broken hearts", but he does a good job of morphing the notions of "free and free falling". The ultimate message? "I'm kind of a jerk for leaving that nice girl from Reseda"

15. Patti Smith: Redondo Beach

Redondo Beach is one of the more sleazier beach areas in the South Bay area, or at least it was in 1975, when New York-based Smith included this odd little reggae on her debut album, Horses. A tale of either murder or suicide, with a protagonist who is or isn't a lesbian, "Redondo Beach" doesn't capture much about the place itself except in the most nebulous sense; it has always been a place with its fair share of loser and drifter types, and occasionally has had to sensational murder. It gets the nod simply because so few New Yorkers bother to acknowledge L.A. beyond stereotypes, let alone bother to learn the names of its outlying communities. Plus a reggae by a New Yorker about Redondo ought to appeal to the typically eclectic Los Angeleno's palette.

16. Frank Zappa: Valley Girl

Back to the Valley again, this time for the song that put the Valley on the map, so to speak, Frank Zappa's 1981 hit "Valley Girl". While Zappa and his band provide some meaty guitar and laconic vocals, the star of the show is really Zappa's 13-year old daughter, Valley native Moon Unit, who essentially goes through a rundown of idiomatic Valley English as a primer of sorts for the nation at large. "Gag me with a spoon" has been part of the lexicon ever since. Plus we get "totally bitchin'", "Barf me out", "like, oh my god" and much much more. The song is mainly Moon's monologue, with Frank supplying angular guitar and general noise. It was requested constantly in L.A. when it was new; whether or not you need to hear it now depends on whether you're from the Valley and/or you are a Zappa fan.

17. The Eagles: The Last Resort

"Hotel California" from the same album would have been a more obvious choice, but I've always been more partial to the stately weeper "The Last Resort" which closes the Hotel California album, from 1976. In many respects, Hotel California is a concept album about L.A., or at least a thematically unified album with L.A. as its focus; "New Kid In Town" and "Life In The Fast Lane" are L.A.-centric sentiments, even if not explicitly about the city. "The Last Resort" mourns the loss of the mythical El Dorado-esque Los Angeles, offering up the poignant adage "Call some place paradise, you can kiss it goodbye". The essential message is "too many people are coming here, and it's starting to suck". Thirty years later, you still hear the same refrain, although most of the newcomers aren't suckered into believing they're coming to paradise anymore.

18. The Kinks: Celluloid Heroes

From the Kinks' early 70's show-biz phase, when their albums were mini-operas, "Celluloid Heroes" is an admirably self contained ode to Hollyood legends long passed, as seen as stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. The song itself is a soft ballad, full of wistfulness and nostalgia, with a particularly mellow lead guitar solo; the lyrics name drop everyone from Rudoph Valentino to Bela Lugosi to Betty Grable. It's a lovely song, with one of Ray Davies' most tender vocals; and it is a fittingly kitschy tribute to a kitschy landmark. Sentimental as a black and white movie, but that's the point. It's also one of the Kinks' best cuts from their largely disparaged 70's output. The studio version contains an extra verse left out on the version that appears on the 1980 live album One For The Road, which more people are familiar with.

19. Tupac Shakur: To Live and Die in L.A.

This opens with what sounds like a snippet of a radio program that pokes a dangerous stick in the direction of the East and West rivalry, which indirectly cost TuPac his life. It'd be easy to accuse TuPac of fatalism if he hadn't ultimately met his fatal end; as such "To Live and Die In L.A." is like a 4-minute synopsis for Boyz N The Hood. Yet it isn't fatalistic, despite its acknowledgement of the dangers of L.A. ghetto existence; it offers an olive branch to the Mexicans, and like "Under The Bridge" or "L.A. Woman" it's a love letter to the city more than anything else, ironic given the circumstances of TuPac's short existence. The song itself is from The Don Killuminati: The 7 Day Theory rush released as a cash-in a mere 8 weeks after TuPac's shooting death in Las Vegas. Credited to Makaveli, instead of TuPac, it gave rise to the legend that TuPac wasn't dead, just hiding out.

20. Grateful Dead: West L.A. Fadeaway

"West L.A. Fadeaway" appeared on the Dead's 1987 commercial breakthrough In The Dark, the biggest album of their long career. The song is a sinister one, suggesting drug intrigue, organized crime, and violence; it's about hiding out, which is another of L.A.'s traditional pastimes, used by crooks on the lam and losers on the down-low ever since the city began attracting citizens willing to leave it all behind at the turn of the 20th century. Like most of the In The Dark album, which was written over the space of nearly 7 years, the song's lyrical detail is a little richer than usual for a Dead tune, which makes it one of the better latter-day numbers. It also earns extra points for working in the slang term "copacetic", a word I've never encountered east of the Sierra Nevadas.

21. Lightning Hopkins: Los Angeles Blues

This opens with a spoken dedication to Los Angeles, before launching into a very slow, piano-based blues. The song appeared on the unfortunately named 1969 album California Mudslide (And Earthquake) In it, Hopkins thinks of relocating, just like the Eagles feared: "People all told me if you go to Los Angeles, Lightnin', you makin' a sad mistake, but I holler 'hello Los Angeles', I believe I'll be on my way". Like with so many other songs, Hopkins here identifies Los Angeles as "a friend"; two other songs on the album also specifically mention L.A. Hopkins was 57 when he recorded this, and although it is past his peak, he's in excellent form, with a stong unwavering voice and he gets in a great piano solo. Blues was largely a Chicago, Southern, and East Coast phenomenon; Los Angeles never had an indigenous blues scene to compete with the others. Still, as long as the city has been here, there has always been blues to sing. Hopkins, like so many others, here sings of Los Angeles as a place to escape his blues.

22. Distillers: City of Angels

The Distillers may have had an Australian member and one from Detroit when they formed in 1998, but they've been based largely in L.A. and recorded for Epitaph records. "City of Angels" is from their third album, Sing Sing Death House, from 2003. One of the few punk bands of the early 00's to actually sound convincingly "punk", their take on L.A. is suitably raucous and damaged in an X sort of way, perhaps crossed with Courtney Love. "City of Angels" has a great anthemic quality to it, and the band plays in a revved-up fashion without sacrificing an inherent tunefulness to their narrow range of chords. Like many before them, they celebrate the very irony of the city itself; it's both celebratory and condemning at the same time, which is like many Los Angles songs. The Distillers haven't followed up this album, and their lineup has had some key changes made. But even if they never follow it up, "City of Angels" makes a worthy addition to the L.A. canon.

23. Wang Chung: To Live and Die In L.A.

Wang Chung were the moderately popular U.K. synth-pop band that gave the world two moderately good synth-pop hits in the mid 1980's, "Dance Hall Days" and "Everybody Have Fun Tonight". Their third biggest hit was "To Live and Die In L.A.", which was written on commission for William Friedkin's 1985 film of the same title, a seedy cop story set in the City of Angels. For a couple of Brits, they do a good job of capturing the city milieu; the synthetic rhythm suggests a freeway in motion, the lyrics paint a suitably alienated and jaundiced view of life, colored by the disillusion that often sets in among those who come here for the thrills. Wang Chung were a better band than they're often given credit for; "To Live and Die In L.A." is arguably their deepest and best single.

24. Elliott Smith: Angeles

"Angeles" is from Smith's 1997 album Either/Or, which stands as the best of his short career; the song was also featured in the movie Good Will Hunting. A nice acoustic-based number, it displays all the offhanded charm that made Smith seem to be destined for greatness in the late 90's, before his untimely death. Introspective and eerie, with a little electronic ambiance added for color, it comes across as almost a prayer and promise to the city itself; one could even be convinced "Angeles" refers to a woman and not the city, were Smith not a native Angleno himself. It's confused, but touching which pretty much sums up Smith himself. There is no shortage of sad, confused persons like Smith in the city.

25. Shawn Mullins: Lullaby

Atlanta-borm Mullins had been trying to break into music ever since he released a cassette in 1989 while a member of the Army Airborne Infantry Division; it took until 1997, when he finally had a hit with "Lullaby" before he finally made it. "Lullaby", from the album Soul's Core, is a slow singer/songwriter number dressed up with late 90's electronica touches; it namedrops Fairfax Avenue, the Hollywood Hills, and a few dead celebrities while offering reassurance to yet another lonely denizen of the city of heartbreak. The moral? Money isn't everything, and there are devils in this angel town. "Lullaby" may remain Mullins' definitive statement; he has yet to crack the Hot 100 again.

Watch X: Los Angeles (circa 1990?)

Listen to Missing Persons: Walking In L.A. (1982)

     

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Artist: Album (label, release date) 1-5 stars

Mugison: Little Trip (Ipecac, April 18, 2006) ****
Memphis Slim: I Am The Blues (Passport Audio, April 18, 2006) *****
Rita Lee: Bossa 'n' Beatles (Ghordo Music, April 18, 2006) ****
Anaal Nakrakh: When Fire Rains Down from the Sky, Mankind Will Reap as It Has Sown (Earache, April 18, 2006) ***

Mugison: Little Trip

In the wake of Bjork, Goldfrapp, Sigur Ros and other Icelandic electronica acts, the record biz is dusting off some of the second tier of recent electronica albums from the volcanic island nation of 280,000. Given that the entire population of the country is only two thirds that of Fresno, CA, one has to start wondering just how deep the trough can run. Mugison, a former sailor from the northwestern corner of the island, almost a stone's throw from the north pole, has released three albums over the last few years, and appeared at Scotland's Triptych festival in 2004, which gained him international interest. He tours with all of his equipment in a single suitcase; he and his family hand-stitched the elaborate packaging for 10,000 copies of his 2003 debut, Lonely Mountain. Little Trip, the soundtrack to Baltasar Kormakur's 2005 of the same name, has been given a new push in 2006 by Ipecac, and offers a handy jumping-in point. So, is this another boldly innovative Icelander who will teach the continentals a thing or two about the possibilities in music? Well not really, but he keeps some conventions in circulation, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. Half of this album is ambient balladry, featuring romantic vocals (sung in English most of the time) like on the fairly irrestistable "Little Trip to Heaven", which boasts a tranquil almost Pacific Island affected slide guitar, and gentle brushes on the drums. Elsewhere, like on "Alone In The Office" we get a somnambular chillout groove with muted horns that sounds a lot more like conventional British electronica. Still other pieces, mostly on fragments under 2 minutes, we have abrasive white-noise constructs as on "Mugicone, Part 2", where the disc really does sound like movie music. Those expecting something to grab them by the lapels will greet this with a big yawn. However, it's certainly inoffensive, and if nothing here is really new, it reshuffles them into a likeable sleepy-time collage.

Memphis Slim: I Am The Blues

Memphis Slim (born John "Peter" Chatman 1915-1988) was a piano player extraordinaire on the Memphis circuit following World War II, where he largely inherited the crown of Big Bill Broonzy as Memphis' most respected ivory tinkler. His rich, earthy, always in-control voice was commanding, and he was a gifted songwriter as well, penning classics that were covered by Lowell Fulson, Joe Williams, and B.B. King among others. I Am The Blues is a budget-priced 14-song compilation, originally released on Prestige Elite in 2002, that collects most of his best-known sides that he recorded for Chicago's United Records in the early 1950's. On all of these cuts, which range from slow to midtempo, Memphis Slim displays a warmth and ambiance that displays an urban sophistication rarely heard outside of Chicago, yet nothing comes across as forced or self-conscious. Instead the good times roll by with numbers like "Ballin' The Jack", "I Am The Blues", "Sassy Mae", "Ramble This Highway"; all should be accessible to blues novices and favorites of electric blues aficionados. Liner notes are virtually non-existent, but the price is right; a good, concise introduction.

Rita Lee: Bossa 'n' Beatles

Rita Lee had been a member of Brazil's most influential rock group; the seminal Os Mutantes in the late 1960's. Bossa 'n' Beatles is her idiosyncratic 2002 take on the Beatles, with the bossa nova rhythms the title promises, but with a refreshingly iconoclastic art-pop sensibility that makes this more than yet another vanity collection of Beatle covers. The opener, "A Hard Days Night" is given a colorful funk-rock treatment that only hints at bossa-nova in its beats; "All My Loving" is more in the traditional vein of Astrud Gilberto. "If I Fell", on the other hand, is given a more modern bossa treatment. "Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds", which is based on on electronically treated piano and features blurry whooshes and sound effects is at once sensual and experimental; "If I Fell" and "In My Life" appear in both English versions and Portuguese versions. There's no shortage of Beatle tribute albums, and most are pretty ho-hum; this one actually merits more than one spin. While the song selection, which also includes "Michelle", "She Loves You", "I Want To Hold Your Hand", "With A Little Help From My Friends" and "Here, There, And Everywhere" is not the most inspired or eclectic selection of possible songs to cover, Lee manages to infuse enough distinct character into each to get these old workhorses to reveal something new about themselves. Not for everybody, but for those who consider the "Girl From Ipenema" a guilty pleasure will enjoy this stuff.

Anaal Nakrakh: When Fire Rains Down from the Sky, Mankind Will Reap as It Has Sown

An English duo of vocalist V.I.T.R.I.O.L. (Dave Hunt, ex-Mistress, ex-Benediction) and Irrumator (Mick Kenney, owner of Nekrodeath studios and former member of Aborym, Frost, Mistress) Anaal Nakrakh's stated purpose is to provide the soundtrack to the apocalypse. Formed in 1999, the band adapts Norwegain-style death metal for the English speaking masses, and pretty much delivers the goods. How much you need these goods depends on your tolerance level for demonic roars over hyperspeed metal; with me, I like it in small doses. So When Fire Rains Down from the Sky, Mankind Will Reap as It Has Sown, originally released in 2003, a six-song EP, is good enough for me. "Never Fucking Again" is a great song to play when you're careening through the hills on a two lane at midnight at excessive speeds. In fact, so are "Cataclysm Nihilism", "Genesis of the Antichrist", and the title cut, the best things here. Lyrically, I assume the titles tell the story; very little of V.I.T.R.I.O.L.'s roar is intelligible. But give the machine-gun drummer here some due; and the guitar riffs pound like oppression itself. Can't say I'll play this very often, and I imagine the apocalypse sounding more like Jessica Simpson, truth be told, but as far as death metal goes, I got the thrills I bargained for. The reissue pads things out with three more songs; damned if I can tell the difference between them.

Also out this week: A serviceable 2002 hits-oriented single disc best-of, Ultimate Dolly Parton on Sony International; post-rock experimental Chicago band The Race's 2002 album The Perfect Gift on Flameshovel; some 4-disc boxed collections of old albums by America, Argent, Rosemary Clooney, Vic Damone, The Four Lads, The Modernaires, and Jerry Vale, all called Collectables Classics on Collectables; Den of Thieves by the Trews, a 2002 Jack Douglas production that flopped, on Red Ink; Collection: 2006 Edition by Kiwi new-wavers Split Enz on EMI; the U.K. versions of Aftermath, Between The Buttons and Out of Our Heads by the Rolling Stones on Universal Japan; and Constant Pressure, by electronica act Beat Pharmacy, on Wave.

     

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For a long time, I always thought the world at large would catch up with Pere Ubu, and the band would at last take its rightful place among the most interesting, intelligent, and innovative bands of the late 20th century. When "Waiting For Mary" (from Cloudland)managed some scant airplay and the video turned up in light rotation on MTV in 1989 I thought the time might have arrived for this criminally neglected band.

Nearly three decades have passed since the release of Dub Housing in 1978, which is certainly the most accessible album from their classic period, and arguably the best. The brief commercial flirtation of 1989 never did translate into sales or long-term notoriety, and it seems unlikely they'll ever turn up at a Rock n Roll Hall of Fame induction, although if the Hall were really about rock, that's precisely where they ought to be. They're from the same hometown, after all.

No, like so many other good bands with brilliant albums, Pere Ubu and Dub Housing are likely to continue receding into history, known only to record/CD/mp3 junkies, students of the punk/new wave era, and aging clubgoers. And sometime, say in another 50 years or so, they'll be as lost and forgotten as A-ha.

Which is a crying shame; during their peak, which ran roughly from 1976-1982, there was absolutely nobody working the same side of the street as them; their sophomore album, Dub Housing, remains an excellent avenue by which to discover them.

Dub Housing often gets lumped in with the punk albums of the era, but it definitely isn't punk, which suggests abrasive two chord songs and hardcore politics. It has also been called "new wave" which is also wrong, conjuring up the synth-pop of the Cars or something. It probably could be called art-rock, although that gives the wrong impression too; there's nothing here that remotely sounds like Yes or King Crimson.

What Dub Housing is is the sound of decline and decay, represented musically as only a band from the heart of the rustbelt (1970's Cleveland) could hear it. But no, it isn't industrial music either; it's something eternally different.

The album opens with "Navvy", which is built on taut, spare guitar, bass, and drums instumentation while lead singer David Thomas wails "I've got these arms and legs that flip flop flip flop" which is repeated until it is finally answered with "That sounds swell!" and the song detours into a sax dominated lull; in some ways the entire Pere Ubu philosophy can be summed up in this track. Unlike punk and industrial bands, Pere Ubu's music retained an oddly touching humanism. While they certainly played up the ironies and ridiculous contradictions of the human experience, they also retained an odd bemusement about their own existence.

If you're willing to let Thomas' yelps and shrieks work they way they're supposed to, and listen closely to the remarkable instrumental play, "Navvy" ought to grab you; from there, there isn't a wasted cut.

So songs like "Caligari's Mirror" and "Drinking Wine Spodyody" follow their own strange internal logic; the former is a woozy, drunken, delirious track with a joyous chorus dedicated to boozing sailors; the latter is strung on a tight bass and weird asymmetrical guitar, with almost random sounding keyboard chords and one of Thomas' best ever-vocals; it seems to be a song of romantic rejection taken into the realm of psychodrama; as music it is propulsive despite all the loose limbs jutting out at all angles. Thomas' vocal, which almost crosses the line into sobbing while still retaining its dignity, is remarkable. "Thriller!" suggests the industrial backdrop that is ever present with this band; heavy echo, distorted guitar, ghostly sound effects of moans, screams, wails, PA announcements, a bent rhythm. "On The Surface" built around an almost Farfisa-sounding keyboard riff is almost danceable. "I Will Wait" is the closest to a conventional rocker, featuring angular guitar, but even there they stack the deck with bizarre tempo shifts and outre lyrics. Codex, the closer, is a creepy song of longing embedded into another industrial soundscape; "I think about you all the time" never sounded creepier.

Equal to Thomas' vocals are the band, which on this album included Tom Herman on guitar and Allen Ravenstine on keyboards; the albums on which the three appear together are Ubu's best. Bassist Tim Wright and drummer Scott Krauss make one of rock's more peculiar rhythm sections; at no time do they merely keep the beat; seldom did a Pere Ubu song end on the same beat it came in on.

I discovered this album several years late myself, at about 2AM on a particularly lonely night, and was completely mesmerized by it, touching off a frantic month of catching up with the rest of the band's output. I'd hazard to say that the right newcomers will be spellbound even today; not only did nobody do what Ubu did in their heyday, nobody has attempted it ever since.

Pere Ubu followed up Dub Housing with New Picnic Time in 1979, but personnel changes began to erode the band and its vision, and by 1982 the band seemed adrift and broke up. They reformed in 1988 with most of the classic lineup aboard, and since then have released a dozen albums. None of their later albums approach their first three in vision or consistency, but all but the most perfunctory offer enough thrills to keep them interesting.

If you never got around to Dub Housing, give it a spin. The mountain of Pere Ubu albums makes an initial exploration seem daunting, but once you let Dub Housing express its vision, everything else starts to make a lot more sense.

Listen to Pere Ubu: Drinking Wine Spodyody (1978)

     

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Artist: Album (label, release date) 1-5 stars

Avail: Dixie (Jade Tree, April 11, 2006) ****
Queen: Stone Cold Classics (Hollywood; April 11, 2006) ***
Sun Ra: Concert For Comet Kohoutek (Esp Disk, Ltd. April 11, 2006) ****
Maroon 5: Songs About Jane [Bonus Tracks] (BMG International, April 11, 2006) **

Avail: Dixie

Avail, from Richmond VA, is a DC-scene hardcore act formed in 1988, when the most interesting punk in America was coming from that region. They toiled in relative obscurity for years on Lookout Records, and later on Fat Wreck Chords, releasing eight albums over the years, half of them live. Dixie, their sophomore release from 1994, is generally considered their best. It, 4AM Friday, and Over The James have been re-issued on Jade Tree in order to capitalize on a 2006 tour with the Pink Razors and The Draft. As with all 90's punk, studio albums seldom capture a band accurately; Avail's loyal fans have always claimed they are a band to see live. Still, this is pretty good stuff. "On The Nod" begins with hardcore drumming from Erik Larson, some guitar from Joe Banks that hints at a few classic rock cues while rmaining propulsive and forward leaning. Tim Barry's vocal is nuanced and has a formidable howl to it. Gwomper works the bass. As the tunes roar past, 12 songs in about half an hour, culminating with a version of John Mellencamp's "Pink Houses", there's little variation on this essential approach, but the forward momentum is palpable; it'd make a good soundtrack to a skateboard flick, or something. Not much in the way of politics; most of it is dropout loserism, as befits punk in the alt-rock era. But tracks like "25 Years", which starts off slow, has a convincing angst, and "Clone" is a good anti-social rant. "Pink Houses" itself makes a good closer.

Queen: Stone Cold Classics

Queen, as everyone knows, is the British hard rock/pomp rock band; known for Freddy Mercury's operatic histrionics and Brian May's colorful guitar playing. Infamous for love-them-or-hate them hits like "Bohemian Rhapsody" and "We Are The Champions", the band was both loved and reviled in its day, an assessment that remains largely unchanged now. For sure, nobody ever expected Queen to revive itself after Mercury died in 1991; Queen without Mercury fronting it would be like well, maybe Bad Company without Paul Rodgers fronting it. That Rodgers, known for his macho cock rock strutting with Free and Bad Company ultimately joined Queen, isn't really a big surprise; fading rockstars need fresh paychecks too. On paper, it almost makes sense; they were contemporaries, if Rodgers wasn't very glammy he worked with musicians who were. So this disc makes a case for why it should work; underneath all the opera and double entendres and dance moves and concepts and silliness Queen always was a good hard rock band. Stone Cold Classics re-imagines Queen's history as if they were only a slightly fruitier version of Bad Company; what's included are the more hard rock leaning guitar-driven nuggets of the 70's in lieu of their more dance-oriented 80's material. So we get 12 hits; most perennials like "Fat Bottomed Girls", "Another One Bites The Dust", "Tie Your Mother Down", "We Will Rock You" and the like, plus two Paul Rodgers-led live cuts: "All Right Now", his biggest hit with Free, and "Ready For Love" an early Bad Company hit. Neither have improved on the originals; Rodgers' voice isn't what it used to be, and Brian May is no Mick Ralphs, which is probably the point. So they sound tacked on and vestigal. What's missing is Rodgers doing a Queen song, which would have demonstrated the validity of the concept a whole lot better. So if you want the more rock oriented Queen hits in one place, here they are. The add-ons make a stronger case that Queen has replaced Bad Company than Rodgers has replaced Mercury, however. And both bands have seen far better days, as Stone Cold Classics inadvertantly reminds us.

Sun Ra: Concert For Comet Kohoutek

Sun Ra albums are always an uncertain combination of extraterrestrial genius and down-to-earth put-on. Concert for the Comet Kohoutek, recorded in 1973, a little after the Arkestra's peak, offers up an ample sampling of both; from the goofy burlesque of "Astro Black" to the mindwarping tribal rhythms, harsh electronics, and insane improv of "Unknown Kohoutek", there's no telling what lies around each corner. When the music is on, it's transcendent. When it gets bogged down in its profundo pronouncements, it flags. "Discipline" both lives up to and makes a mockery of its title, whereas "Space Is The Place" makes Sun Ra's interplanetary free-jazz seem like the place to be. There are much better Sun Ra albums than this one, but for the already initiated, this is worth picking up. If you're new to Sun Ra, imagine a cross between Ornette Coleman, Martin Denny, and Funkadelic. And then forget it; that doesn't even begin to capture it.

Maroon 5: Songs About Jane [Bonus Tracks]

Never let it be said that I live in the past; I'm as curious about the zeitgeist as anyone, and when the mood strikes, I'll check out whatever was The Next Big Thing, albeit a year or two late. So when Maroon 5's Grammy winning Songs About Jane (originally released in 2002) got its re-release this week, with bonus cuts, I figured I'd settle in and see what all the fuss was about. Maroon 5 is the grown-up version of the late 90's band Kara's Flowers, formed by a quartet of junior high school friends led by Adam Levine. Maroon 5 is the same quartet plus a fifth member; guitarist James Valentine, who joined them in 1999. By 2005 they were big enough to open for the Rolling Stones, although apart from two live albums, they still haven't followed up this one. So how is it? Well, the angular guitar and hip-hop sensibility on "Harder to Breathe" starts things off agreeably, even if the melody seems received and the vocals are a bit overwrought. By the time of the second song however, "This Love", I already get the feeling I'm listening to a teen band in disguise; "Shiver" almost screams N*Sync or Backstreet Boys. The album works best when it gets off its urban beats; the slower, melodic ballad "She Will Be Loved" sounds closer to Dave Matthews, "Secret" has a nice minor key lilt, but is done in by its silly lyrics. Ultimately, Songs About Jane is a triumph of style over substance; well-produced and well sung, it offers little in the way of originality or meaning. I haven't checked, but I could see this as being a popular record among American Idol fans. For diehard rockers, there isn't much here. And the bonus tracks? Two additional versions of "This Love" (one live), a live "Harder to Breathe", and a tune called "Rag Doll", which isn't Aerosmith's. Or even the Four Seasons'.

Also out this week: Three classics from art-punk legends Wire, Pink Flag, 154, and Chairs Missing on Pink Flag; Talk Memphis a minor 1981 offering by singer/songwriter Jesse Winchester on Wounded Bird; Essential Judas Priest on Sony; four albums by minor league 70's arena act Fandango on Wounded Bird; Donkeys by 70's mod-revivalists The Donkeys on Antenna Farm; My Way: Very Best of Paul Anka on BMG Germany, and Sacrifist by Praxis, an abrasive avant-metal project featuring Bill Laswell and Buckethead on Subharmonic.

     

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From the mailbox:

"Did Charles Manson really write a song for the Beach Boys?"

Answer: It wasn't written for the Beach Boys, but "Never Learn Not To Love" (on the Beach Boys' 20/20 album) was indeed written by Charles Manson, and for a brief time in 1968, about a year before the Tate-LaBianca murders, Manson and Beach Boys drummer Dennis Wilson were acquaintances.

While the passage of time has diminished the irony, the juxtaposition of the Beach Boys, America's cleancut "fun" band and Charles Manson, the symbolic epitome of evil and the dark side, was a particularly jarring one.

Charles Manson was released from prison in 1967 after spending more than half of his life locked up in various institutions for a variety of schemes, from juvenile delinquency to fraud to car theft to pimping.

In prison, Manson wasn't ignorant of music; he befriended Alvin "Old Creepy" Karpis of the Ma Barker gang, who taught him guitar. Another inmate, Phil Kaufman, gave him a contact name of someone at Universal Studios in Hollywood; years later, Kaufman would make news for hijacking the body of Gram Parsons and cremating it in the Joshua Tree desert. Manson developed something of an obsession with the Beatles, claiming he could come on twice as big, if given the chance, Karpis once noted.

The world Manson entered was one that didn't exist when he was incarcerated; like many hardened criminals in 1967, Manson made a beeline for San Francisco, where the Summer of Love was in full blossom, offering the hype of LSD and free love and rock stardom to anybody with long hair. It was in and around San Francisco in late 1967 where Manson met and befriended his first "followers"; he came across as a wizened guru at a time when there were several gurus on every block.

Eventually, Manson relocated to Los Angeles and began following up on the music leads he had acquired. He networked himself relentlessly, making contacts at parties and clubs, trying to make things happen. His efforts were successful; he met Dennis Wilson, who gave him studio time in Brian Wilson's studio. Neil Young encountered him, and recalled "He had this kind of music that nobody else was doing. I thought he really had something crazy, something great. He was like a living poet." John Phillips of the Mamas and Papas was less impressed; when urged by hippie friends to record Manson, Phillips quipped "I'd just shudder every time. I'd say no, I think I'll pass."

Nothing came of the studio recordings; Manson was uncomfortable and irritable in the studio, and refused the sound engineers' requests to record his tracks solo, and overdub his "family" rather than bringing them all into the studio at once.

One of the songs Manson would play was called "Cease to Exist"; Dennis Wilson dug it enough that he convinced the Beach Boys to record it. Manson's original lyrics are:

Pretty girl, pretty, pretty girl
Cease to Exist
Just come and say you love me
Give up your world
C'mon you can see
I'm your kind, I'm your kind
You can see
Walk on, walk on
I love you pretty girl
My life is yours and
You can have my world
Never had a lesson
I ever learned
But I know we all get our turn
I love you
Submission is a gift
Go on, give it to your brother
Love and understanding is for one another
I'm your kind, I'm your kind
I'm your mind
I'm your brother
I never had a lesson I ever learned
But I know we all get our turn
And I love you
Never learned not to love you
I never learned

While it is typical of a 1968-era "love your brother" style lyric, it also contains hints of some of Manson's brainwash raps; submission is a gift, cease to exist (give up your ego), I'm your mind.

The Beach Boys' version changed the key phrase to "cease to resist", but otherwise left the lyrics and melody essentially unchanged. Dennis Wilson sings lead vocal, a rarity, and the Beach Boys supply their famous group harmonies and dense production. There's an ominous intensity to the recording; even divorced from Manson, it conveys a vaguely sinister edge, with its tribal rhythm and hypnotic chants.

The song was originally released as the B-side to the 45 "Bluebirds Over The Mountain" on Capitol records in November 1968.

In the summer of 1968, Manson had been crashing at Dennis Wilson's mansion all the time; Wilson tolerated it at first because Manson always had plenty of girls and drugs with him. However, over time, Manson and his entourage had pretty much run Wilson out of his own house as well as given him the clap and given away all his stuff; perhaps in an effort to get Manson out of his life, he put him in touch with Terry Melcher, producer of the Byrds, who had worked with the Beach Boys on Pet Sounds and with John Phillips as an organizer of the Monterey Pop Festival.

By this time, Manson and his freak-followers were already embarked on the prolonged paranoid acid-and-the-Bible freakout scene that ultimately led them to the "Helter Skelter" murders; having relocated to the more rural Spahn Movie Ranch, near Chatsworth on the edge of L.A. In early 1969, several months before the murders, Melcher sent some sound engineers out to record Manson in his element; solo with acoustic guitar at his commune with his hippie chicks as backup singers. Film was also shot for a documentary on the free loving Mansonites, but subsequent events changed the tenor of the film.

Manson's songs were duly recorded, but at the end of the day, Melcher remained unimpressed; Manson's growing reputation as unpredictable and scary may well have turned him off as well. The tapes and film sat in the can until after the murders; both were released in 1970 while Manson was on trial; the album as LIE on ESP records, and the film as Manson. A version of "Cease to Exist" appears on LIE.

"Never Learn Not To Love" doesn't bear Manson's name as a songwriting credit; instead credit is given to Dennis Wilson. Manson, who owed Wilson money for trashing his house, was given a small cash payment in exchange for the credit.

The song itself remains one of those interesting little nuggets of rock lore; a point where several disparate worlds converged in one place and mayhem ensued. The only clue to what was to come was an obscure B-side by a fading harmony group with an ominous lilt.

Listen to the Beach Boys: Never Learn Not To Love (1968)

Listen to Charles Manson: Cease To Exist (1969)

Watch the Beach Boys: Never Learn Not To Love (1968)

     

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Just thought I'd pass on a tip to fellow music maniacs...

No, I haven't gone "on sabbatical" again. I just spent a week obsessing on the mountains of great video clips at YouTube.com. Many of you are familiar with that site, but if you aren't, check it out. Everything from Elvis on the Ed Sullivan show, to the Jefferson Airplane at Woodstock to Soft Machine on Beat Club to KISS on Midnight Special to REM on the Letterman show to the Verve on Top Of The Pops; a real treasure trove of stuff.

Those who know the site already may be unaware that it is possible to download YouTube videos; all you need to do is use this site (Credit to Bedazzled! for this tip). Plug the url of the video you want into the box, and click the download button and it's yours (make sure you add .flv to the file name when you save it). The videos are in Flash format, so if you'd like to burn a DVD to watch it on your television, you'll need to convert your files to .avi, .mpeg, .mov or another format; here's a good freeware video converter. Expect a tiny loss in quality when you convert, although you won't notice it unless you're looking for it. Here's a tip: save time by converting a batch of videos all at one time, not one by one.

Obviously, not I nor you nor the person who uploaded the video own the various copyrights or broadcast rights to the songs or performances, so do what you want at your own risk. For the time being, there hasn't been too much of a backlash against YouTube.com; as of March 31, 2006 they have been assuaging studio fears by limiting clips to 10 minutes.

Which is more than enough time for a flash video nugget like Patti Smith Group on Saturday Night Live, 1975. I'll dedicate this clip to Jen, the most intense Patti Smith fan I know...

UPDATE: Bummer! Vid got pulled by YouTube, "copyright infringement". Guess they must've not liked my post...? I'll get it back up another way, if I get the chance...

...of course, the irony is, I got it from YouTube...

UPDATE #2: Okay, here's the same clip someone else uploaded to YouTube, except this has Italian subtitles and doesn't identify itself as from SNL:

Watch: Patti Smith Group: Gloria [live on "Italian" TV] (1975)

Note: Barring disaster, Weekly Reissue Roundup and Sunday Morning Playlist will be back this weekend, here and at Blogcritics.org. More "Short Bits" and other stuff this week, too. So long as I can peel myself away from YouTube...

Music Consumption in the MP3 Era