all the young dudes (1972) – mott the hoople: columbia records, kc 31750

Let’s raise a glass to Glam Rock. That weird, almost unwanted sub-genre of rock that wasn’t quite metal, wasn’t quite folk, wasn’t quite pop, and wasn’t quite prog, but was a bit of all of those wrapped in an emphasis about image and attitude.

One of the bands that best embraced that undefined quality was Mott the Hoople, even though their glamminess wasn’t nearly as extreme or on visual display in the same way it was for acts like Slade or Gary Glitter or Sweet or the New York Dolls or David Bowie.

In fact, if it weren’t for David Bowie being a MtH fanboy, not only would Mott maybe not have been part of the glam scene, but the album All The Young Dudes ccertainly wouldn’t exist (even though the song would), and that would really suck because it is a great album. In fact, Dudes was the album that kept Mott going for a few years longer than they might otherwise have done, and allowed the boys to record the two best (and most glamtastic) MtH albums, Mott and The Hoople.

But more on those in later posts. This one’s all about how Bowie saved Mott by turning them glam and giving us one of rock’s most underrated and underappreciated albums at the same time.

Side 1: Sweet Jane Momma’s Little Jewel All The Young Dudes Sucker Jerkin’ Crocus
Side 2: One Of The Boys Soft Ground Ready For Love / After Lights Sea Diver

So, where to start. First off, Dudes isn’t nearly as heavy as any of MtH’s first four albums (the track Ready for Love, notwithstanding).  In fact, this sounds far more like something from the David Bowie catalog of the early 70s, fitting quite well alongside Hunky Dory, Man Who Sold The World, and Ziggy Stardust. That’s not a surprise when one realizes that along with the members of MtH, Dudes features musicians like Mick Ronson and Mick Bolton (both of whom appear on Ziggy), and that Bowie also worked on the production of the album (which explains the Starman-like guitar flourishes in the background of the otherwise completely un-Bowie Ready for Love).

Oh, and there’s that little bit about songwriting, too. See, although seven of the nine songs were written by some combination of MtH band members, two were not. Sweet Jane is a cover of a Lou Reed song, while the title track is 100% Bowie. Now, we can argue about which song is the strongest on the album, with a case to be made for Jerkin’ Crocus, but conventional wisdom and the hivemind mentality gives Crocus the bronze, Jane the silver, and crowns All The Young Dudes as the Caesar, around which the rest of this record spins (apologies for the violently mixed metaphors there).

It also goes a long way to explaining how MtH went from a basic Rock Band to one of the torchbearers of glam - despite the fact that none of the guys really looked the part at the time. This album sold better than any of the four previous MtH records, and became a UK hit (charting at #21) on the strength of the three songs glammiest songs.  In fact, the single of Dudes peaked at 3 in the UK and 37 here in the USA.  Clearly fans liked the new sound, and were starting to associate Mott the Hoople with the glam scene, and vice versa.  More than that, it resurrected MtH as a band, as Bowie actually intervened to prevent the break-up, even offering them Suffragette City to help their success.

So the transition of Mott the Hoople from rock to glam does make sense.  And the new sound really did suit them better, as well.

Okay, so what did I get out of this most recent listen? Well, it’s hard to say, exactly, because I include a lot of MtH and Ian Hunter in my regular, everyday music (such as at work or on the road or just in the background at home), so I can’t say that it’s been a while since I’ve heard these songs or that this is a way to re-acquaint myself with the band. However, this listening project does provide a different context from the norm, in that I intentionally make time to actually sit and focus on the music and try to remove any potential distractions. With that in mind, I think what I gained from this listen is really a renewed appreciation for both this record and the band. I really do like Mott the Hoople, and it dawned on me that I never really fully acknowledged just how much I like them. When asked about my musical preference I would easily blurt out bands like Genesis or the Clash or Elvis Costello or David Bowie or X, but Mott the Hoople really belongs right up there on my personal Rushmore.

Which means, I suppose, that after this listen, I have finally openly admitted just how much a Mott the Hoople fan I really am. So that’s nice.

Up next: Can a fun evening still be considered a waste?

… all the rage (1984) – general public: irs records, sp-70046

One of the more interesting genres of music to have come from the post-stadium rock Big Bang was the new wave-ska hybrid known as 2 Tone. The music owed its roots to artists from the 50’s and 60’s like Desmond Dekker, Delroy Wilson, and the Skatellites and which found a new audience during the 70’s among a sub-culture of white and black kids who grew up within the influence of the Caribbean diaspora of Great Britain.

2 Tone took ska and added a new wave element of an increased tempo and broader musical influences, while retaining the signature downbeat and skank rhythm of ska/rocksteady. The result was a catchy, playful, danceable, fun type of music brought to the world by bands like The Specials, The Selecter, Bad Manners, and Madness.

Another major 2 Tone band was The Beat, who had massive success with songs like Mirror In The Bathroom, Bigshot, Twist and Crawl, I Confess, Jeanette, and Save It For Later. Unfortunately, The Beat burned themselves out as a band and ended after only three albums. Fortunately, the founding members, Dave Wakeling and Ranking Roger still had some music in them, and they gathered with some of their friends (including Mick Jones of The Clash), and in 1984 they formed the band General Public, and released … All The Rage.

Side 1: Hot You’re Cool Tenderness Anxious Never You Done That Burning Bright
Side 2: As A Matter Of Fact Are You Leading Me On Day-To-Day Where’s The Line? General Public

Now, I haven’t listened to this album in decades – probably not since the early 90’s to be honest. In fact, when I started sorting through my vinyl to alphabetize the listening list I was actually surprised to see it sitting there. So, when I put this on the platter I was pretty stoked to sit back and go back to being in my 20’s again, because I do have some fond memories of this album. As I listened I definitely felt the nostalgia, but I also started to notice that the songs are less fun than I remembered them.

And the “fun” aspect was an important part of what made 2 Tone so great. Ska, even when dealing with incredibly morbid themes (like poverty or injustice) was always danceable and happy. Want proof? Sure. Listen to Israelites and try to tell me that even though the song is about a destitute guy who lost his wife & family, has no money or food, and has to resort to petty thievery to avoid starving to death it still isn’t among the most happy sounding songs you’ve ever heard.

You can’t do it, can you?

Well 2 Tone had that same quality. Even though some of the songs were about racism, oppressive society, drugs, or poverty and injustice, they were always fun because of the “ska stroke”, the 4/4 timing with the emphasis on the downbeat. Well, that isn’t the case with the songs on … All The Rage. It’s not that they are depressing, but they simply don’t have the same pop. And as I got through Tenderness I realized why. Where bands like The Beat took ska and added the frenetic energy of punk to create a fast, happy sound, when they founded General Public, Dave & Roger took 2 Tone and watered it down with a Motown R&B groove – dropping the tempo and washing out the downbeat emphasis that gave ska & 2 Tone that skankability.

So, even though this album has many really good songs (Hot You’re Cool, Never You Done That, As A Matter Of Fact, and General Public), for me it hasn’t really aged well.

I guess I was a lot easier to please when I was in my 20’s.

Up next: Who needs TV when they've got T.Rex?

absolutely free (1967) – the mothers of invention: verve records, v6-5103

A mere 10 months after having the audacity to release a double LP as a debut album, Frank Zappa put out his follow-up, Absolutley Free.

That’s kind of impressive if you think about it. Six sides of music released in just a bit more time than it takes for two kids to suffer the red, wet, naked, and screaming consequences of a bit of unprotected slap-and-tickle in the back seat of a car (come to think of it, naked, red, wet, and screaming could be an apt general description of a lot of Zappa’s music, too).

The word “prolific” seems quite appropriate.

In any case, Absolutely Free brought more of the singularly distinct sound and socially critical lyrics for which Frank Zappa would become famous.

Side 1: Plastic People Duke of Prunes Amnesia Vivace The Duke Regains His Chops Call Any Vegetable Invocation & Ritual Dance of the Young Pumpkin Soft-Sell Conclusion
Side 2: America Drinks Status Backs Baby Uncle Bernie’s Farm Son of Susie Creamcheese Brown Shoes Don’t Make It America Drinks & Goes Home

Taking a listen to Absolutely Free makes it quite clear that this album bears more than a passing resemblance to Freak Out!. So much so that one would be forgiven for simply considering this the third disc of Freak Out! rather than a stand-alone album.

All of the elements of Freak Out! are present here, from the distinct tempo changes, occasionally jarring instrumentation, sardonic social commentary, wry political observations, discordant background singing, and conserved musical theme.

But here’s the really cool thing: this album doesn’t suffer from the perception that these are left-over
songs not good enough to have been included in the previous album and only now released as a cynical attempt to cash in on some initial success. Quite the contrary, the songs on this album, from the bizarre and ridiculous Call Any Vegetable, to the cutting America Drinks & Goes Home all have the same high level of creativity and craftsmanship of any song on Freak Out!, and the delightfully perverse and caustic Brown Shoes Don't Make It is just a spear through the liver of the squares in Pleasant Valley.

Now, it’s been a while since I’ve listened to Absolutely Free. For some reason this album tends to get lost among the more frequently listened Zappa offerings, like Hot Rats or Roxy & Elsewhere, but hearing it now reminded me that this definitely does kick some ass. But, like pretty much every other Zappa album, this isn’t something one just puts on the platter for background sounds. It’s an album that demands attention, and if one isn’t really craving the Zappa groove, it will fall flat. But if that monkey on your back needs some seriously intense jamming, then settling on this and letting Invocation & Ritual Dance of the Young Pumpkin is exactly what the doctor prescribed.

Up next: You got your new wave in my ska!

exile on main street (1972) - the rolling stones: rolling stones records, COC-2-2900

There are some bands or albums that are so distinctive and so original that even though they had to be influenced by someone (or some style) else, it’s sometimes impossible to hear it. For example, the California surf-guitar sound of Dick Dale was so original, it is hard to tell the origins.

On the other hand, there are some bands or albums that are so clearly influenced, it’s almost hard not to consider them either far too derivative or just a flat-out ripoff.

Then there are those bands whose influences are completely unambiguous, but who still manage to infuse enough of their own personality into the music so they can tread that fine line between originality and plagiarism.

The Rolling Stones manage this tightrope quite well, repeatedly showcasing their uniquely individual interpretation of American blues. One of the best examples is their 1972 opus, Exile on Main Street.

Side 1: Rocks Off Rip This Joint Shake Your Hips Casino Boogie Tumbling Dice
Side 2: Sweet Virginia Torn And Frayed Sweet Black Angel Loving Cup
Side 3: Happy Turd On The Run Ventilator Blues I Just Want To See His Face Let It Loose
Side 4: All Down The Line Stop Breaking Down Shine A Light Soul Survivor

For some reason people love to compare the Beatles and the Stones as if they were the same sort of band, and a person’s preference was based on intangibles or aesthetics. But really, they are two incredibly different bands. Even in the early songs, it's clear that the two are as far apart as black and white: the Beatles are more Elvis, Buddy Holly, and Big Bopper while the Stones were Howlin' Wolf, Little Richard, and Chuck Berry. And that disparity only grew with time.

Exile almost seems like a road-trip through the heartland of American proto-rock music, featuring songs with so much Delta and Memphis blues influence that you can almost taste the mint juleps. Despite the unmistakably Stones sound of Richards’ guitar and Jagger’s vocals, the songs on this album all sound as if they have been regular selections in honky tonks and gin joints around the south going back to the early 1900’s.

Which is remarkable, because other than Shake Your Hips and Stop Breaking Down, all of these songs are Jagger-Richards creations. Clearly, Mick and Keith were tuned in to the blues.

Even though I always liked the Stones I never really seemed to get into them until I bought Some Girls as my first Stones album when I was in eighth grade. After that, I got hooked and needed to feed the monkey in a big way. I forgot why I chose Exile as my next Stones album, but I did, grabbing it over such others as Goats Head Soup, Beggars’s Banquet, or Sticky Fingers. The thing is, even though I loved Some Girls (and played it very frequently) I recall a distinct sense of disappointment on my first listen to Exile because it just seemed too bluesy.  And even though I had heard Rocks Off and Tumbling Dice before buying the album (as did any kid listening to FM radio back in the late 70’s/early 80’s), I guess I wasn’t prepared for just how bluesy and roots the album would be. Which is even more surprising considering that Some Girls is very similar in that respect. I suppose I was hoping for more stuff like Satisfaction or Sympathy for the Devil.

But for me, Exile was one of those albums that got better as I got older. And by the time I got into college and experienced the standard White-kid-discovers-Black-music-via-the-blues transformation, I had really come to appreciate the raw, basic, and honest feel of it. The record is not polished at all, and one wonders whether there was even a producer present for most of it. But that sort of stripped-down lack of pretense really does help the songs.

This go round I realized that even though Exile is not one of my favorite Stones albums (nor one of my favorite overall albums), I have a very special affection for it. It’s a bit dated, a bit worn around the edges, a bit rough, and a bit messy. But then again, so am I.

I guess it’s just one of those things.

Up Next: The Mothers' Traveling Circus

cosmic tones for mental therapy (1963) – sun ra and his myth science arkestra: saturn research (2009 re-issue), SR-408

It is very safe to say that Sun Ra is weird.

“Weird” is one of those concepts which folks assume has an unambiguous, objective, binary meaning – like “wet” or “pregnant”. For example something either is or is not wet or is or is not pregnant. In the same way, people believe that things either are or are not weird – there’s no in-between (unless, of course, we apply the quantum situation described by Schroedinger, in which an object (say, a cat) occupies both states until it is observed, after which it falls into one or the other state allowing the original, unambiguous either/or definition and the object either is or is not. But I digress).

So, even though “weird” really is a subjective concept, many people think of it as objective, Schroedinger be damned. Some things simply are weird, and some aren’t. Early David Lynch movies, the grammatical structure of Choctaw language, and using a glazed donut as a hamburger bun are unequivocally and unarguably weird.

Of course, just because something is weird (i.e. early Lynch films, Choctaw, and donut burgers) doesn’t also mean that it is bad, or that nobody likes it. Weird may require a specialized taste, or only appeal to a select few, but there’s someone out there who will dig it. I mean, donuts as a hamburger bun doesn’t really sound great to me, but you may think it’s the best thing since adding bacon to coffee.

So it is with the music of Sun Ra. Especially the stuff he was creating from the early ‘60s to the mid-‘70s. A few folks dig it, but most people just find it weird.

Cosmic Tones For Mental Therapy is a perfect example.

Side 1: And Otherness Thither And Yon Adventure Equation
Side 2: Moon Dance Voice Of Space

By the early 60’s Sun Ra underwent a change in his music, moving from more or less accessible jazz (such as in Jazz in Silhouette and Interstellar Low Ways) to a much more free, experimental style like in Cosmic Tones. In the process he also started using new electronic instruments and studio techniques to shape his sonic expression in newer and more bizarre ways.

The result is an album that, in many ways, predicts and anticipates the kind of psychedelic and experimental sounds of Zappa, Beefheart, Clinton, Fripp, Eno, and Bowie.

Cosmic Tones is one of those albums that can clear out a crowded room in less than four bars, leaving only those who are drawn to the obscure, strange, peculiar, odd, and creepy. Someone who needs to at least occasionally ditch the squares and let themselves experience something completely and utterly out there. Someone who is comfortable with subversive, alternative, and sometimes just flat out weird things. In other words, someone like me.

Every track on the album is a new adventure. The atonal reeds and seemingly un-related percussion of And Otherness sets the table for a trip into your own head. In comparison, the other two cuts on side 1, Thither And Yon and Adventure Equation sound almost like something by Lawrence Welk.

Side 2 opens with the really groovy Moon Dance, which is about as normal a song as Sun Ra composed during the 60's - a wonderful bass & drum bonanza.  The album closes much as it opens, with some heavy extraterrestrial vibes in Voice of Space.

For me, the real treat of Sun Ra is that, like a Kandinsky or Pollock painting, it somehow forces me to reflect inward. It’s like getting caught in the time-trip of some serious grass without taking a rip off a bong. The music is at once claustrophobic and liberating. This cat may not actually have come from Saturn, but when he gets into a groove, his music can take you on a trip round the moons of Nibia and round the Antares maelstrom and round perdition’s flame and back.

I guess the most concise way to summarize is to say I don’t know if this is any damn good, but I know I totally dig it.

Up next: Blues with a British accent