Worth Checking OutÖ by Dana Eric Misenheimer copyright 2004
Happy springtime. My regular readers have no doubt noticed April came and left without a column. Please accept my humble apologies. Deadlines and commitments in other areas of my life impeded my ability to get a proper column put together, so our gracious site-master has given me the thumbs up to submit a two-for-one musing that will hopefully appease the faithful visitors of ìWorth Checking Out.î Among the many roles I have in life, Iím a full time student, and the end of the semester can be a bear. As a result, I spend a considerable amount of time behind the wheel of my little blue ë93í Tempo getting from one place to another. Since I need quiet when I study, my car is where I do the majority of my music listening these days. Like most of America, while in transit, I jam the tunes.
Iíve pretty much given up on radio as a source of music. I live in Western New York State in the Buffalo area, and we even have the added dimension of Canadian stations in the region to provide some contrast to the stateside airwaves. Still, radio in general seems to be a stagnant wasteland of flavor-of-the-month product that leaves me clamoring for relief. We have some specialty programming on a few NPR and college stations presenting some nice offerings at times, but for the most part itís a barrage of noise. Suffice it to say that the best method for having quality listening material in the car is for one to select it his or her self and simply eliminate the interference of corporate program directors.
It should be no surprise to my regular readers to hear that my preferred medium for self-chosen sounds in my auto is the cassette. The factory deck in my Tempo is eleven years old and sounding killer, and it enables me to play bizarre custom-made compilations from my coveted vinyl collection. Since I can listen to discs at home, I rarely bother recording them to tape; however, I do have some select CD reissues taped in their entirety on cassette simply because I like the albums so much I want them in the car. Still, itís mostly old vinyl getting dubbed for the highway. There just seems to be some magic in those grooves.
One album that Iíve been spinning down the road recently is Spectrum by Billy Cobham. The dexterous Cobham drummed for Miles Davis and The Mahavishnu Orchestra before releasing this first solo record in 1974 featuring Jan Hammer on keyboards and a confident and capable young Tommy Bolin on guitar. Talk about shredding! This album absolutely cooks. Bolin was already an alumnus of Zephyr, Energy, and The James Gang, and he would later go on to replace Ritchie Blackmore in Deep Purple before dying much too young in a Miami hotel room in 1976. Here, Jan Hammer ñ who also plays on Bolinís first solo album, 1974ís Teaser ñ and the 23 year old Bolin prove to be the perfect foils for one another, chasing each other over top of Cobhamís flying beats in a rollicking game of supercharged fusion tag. With Hammer riding the pitch wheel on his keyboard and Bolin hitting warp speed on the six string, the opening cut, ìQuadrant,î can leave the listener wondering who is responsible for which licks as the runs somersault on top of and over each other. And itís all done with taste and without losing that sense of swing I might add. This album is premium fusion of the period that, to these ears anyway, sounds fresh and vibrant in 2004. Not every cut is chasing the speed of light either. Spectrum settles into some very groove-oriented, funk-flavored swing that makes for some very easy to digest road music. Sweet, tasty, and flowing. This is music thatís thirty years old and as contemporary as ever.
Another album getting a spin in the car is the legendary Music To Eat by The Hampton Grease Band. And yes, itís a cassette recorded from the original vinyl pressing of this much talked about but rarely seen or heard underground masterpiece. I get as much enjoyment from listening to the album as I do from seeing the expressions on the faces of people hearing it for the first time when I have them trapped in my car. This album is an enigma from start to finish. It is reputed to be the second worse selling album in the entire Columbia records catalogue. The album defies categorization but here goes: A group of musicians from Georgia who had played together in various aggregations since high school somehow got signed to Columbia in 1971 and submitted to the label master recordings of some very strange and extended improvisational suites that could have easily been dismissed as a joke if not for the fact that these pieces actually contain some daring and wonderful musical performances. And Columbia actually put it out.
To give the uninitiated a reference point, think of Captain Beefheart; however, donít jump to any conclusions before ever hearing the band. Music To Eat, The Hampton Grease Bandís only recording, contains snippets of rock, country, jazz, and just about every other style of music the band members had ever been exposed to. One song is called ìSpray paintî and features the band exploring a musical theme while the singer, Colonel Bruce Hampton, literally screams the lyrics by reading them off a can of, you guessed it, spray paint. This music is all about self-expression and somehow doing it as a unit while the band members are each following their own muses. This record has been re-released on CD a few times over the years, so it should be obtainable by anyone truly curious. Itís not something I listen to everyday, but it seems to fill a hole when nothing else will do.
While weíre south of the Mason-Dixon line, another band I travel with is Jason and The Scorchers. The album Iím referring to is Still Standing, and itís near the top of my all time favorites list. This record just never fails to put a smile on my face. The band still plays together occasionally, albeit mostly around the Nashville area from where they hail, but they are a perfect example of a band that despite talent and credentials to burn, never got the recognition they deserve.
The music Jason and The Scorchers play is probably best described as very rootsy Americana with a dose of punk thrown in for good measure. They certainly have a very appropriate name. This album came out in 1986 on EMI/America and got a little bit of attention before landing in the cutout bins and unfortunately fading from public memory. Itís my personal opinion that this is an album that suffered from the music industryís transition from LPs to CDs. It came out on vinyl only at a time when the big push to CDs was beginning and was never released on CD until recently. As a result, it has never gotten much play since it was first released, and itís a shame. Jason Ringenberg is a great songwriter and singer, and Warner Hodges is one butt kickiní axe slinger. Hodges has a dead finger on his fretting hand from an old pre-music work injury and uses some different tunings to get around it, and he gets around it with brilliance and bravado. There is an accelerated cover of The Rolling Stonesí ì19th Nervous Breakdownî that epitomizes the bandís rip snortiní approach. This record is a punchy, jumpy hoedown that is also a great example of how good vinyl can sound. Still Standing finally came out recently on CD but be forewarned. One of the songs has inexplicably been exchanged for the edited single version of itself. With CDs full of room, who knows why such a decision would be made? Itís just further proof of vinylís viability. In any case, Jason and The Scorchers are, indeed, Still Standing tall and rightly so.
While on the topic of Americana, an album I simply love is Pocoís Blue and Gray from 1981. Very cool and legitimate Americana before the term was invented, this record is a concept album dealing with the Civil War through the eyes of the desperate and confused but resilient young men pressed into service as the United States cannibalized itself. This record landed in the cutout bins all too prematurely as well. Too rock for country radio, too country for rock radio, and a concept album to boot, this record probably didnít stand a chance of getting airplay; however, itís a great, great record that, like Still Standing, has no disposable cuts on it. All the songs are composed solely either by Paul Cotton or Poco original, steel guitarist Rusty Young, and they fit together seamlessly. The two songwriters pull off the feat of penning a compelling and emotionally sympathetic take on the war without choosing regional sides. Rather, they assume the perspectives of the victims on all sides of the conflict, not pointing fingers but still evoking a compassionate sensibility. When I listen to this album, I get a strikingly vivid picture in my mindís eye of the subject matter. Itís also a vinyl triumph. I would speculate that the CD might be a little dry compared to this rich and breathing vinyl pressing.
Before leaving the Americana genre, it only stands to reason that I would never consider myself fully equipped for a spin in the car, or anything else for that matter, without packing the greatest band of all time ñ The Byrds. I have a cassette that contains some of The Byrdsí coolest road music. On side one and part of side two I have the reissue of 1969ís Ballad of Easy Rider complete with bonus tracks, and the rest of side two is made up of the entire studio portion of 1970ís double album, Untitled. This is the Byrds in the autumn of their lifespan with only one personnel change left ñ Skip Battin replacing John York on bass in September of 1969. Playing very high quality blends of folk, country, bluegrass, gospel, and rock with an occasional undercurrent of psychedelia in the mix, The Byrds were pioneering the very earliest stirrings of what would someday be described as Americana.
Ballad of Easy Rider gets its name and title cut from the song Roger Mcguinn penned with an uncredited Bob Dylan for the movie Easy Rider. What better soundtrack for a road trip than the theme song from one of the ultimate cruising movies of all time? The title cut works especially well in a rural setting with lots of pines just as it does in the film Easy Rider when Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper, in the roles of Captain America and Billy the Kid, go cycling through the American West on choppers. Another outstanding cut among a consistently superior collection of songs is the bandís interpretation of Dylanís ìItís All Over Now, Baby Blue.î Producer Terry Melcher, who is actress Doris Dayís son, leaves the sound booth and lends a fifth vocal harmony to this weeping rendition of the song. Slowed down to a mournful crawl, The Byrds sound like rock and roll choirboys as Clarence Whiteís stringbender Telecaster drops perfectly placed heart-wrenching licks between the lyrics.
I must say this about my well-documented fondness for The Byrds and these two albums. The Byrds are a band that will never be again. While there is a lot of great material out there with all the reissues and bonus cuts, it is a finite amount of music. For this reason, I limit how much I consume of my favorite band of all time. I donít ever want to play this precious music out and grow weary of it. I donít ever want it to lose its magic, so with a band and music like this, a little restraint can go a long way. I treat The Byrdsí music like a very exquisite wine that only gets uncorked and savored occasionally. Therefore, I donít always listen to it when Iím in the car, but like American Express, I never leave home without it.
One last record to discuss that I spin in the car when I need a little humor mixed with some torqued up guitar playing is ìHave a Ballî by Me First and The Gimme, Gimmes. This record came out in 1997, and I taped it from a friendís CD. This is a group of guys doing mostly old songs from the seventies ñ some that are blatant bubblegum ñ ala Green Day, and they are apparently somewhat serious. Paul Simonís songs never sounded so good. The Gimme, Gimmes cover ìMe and Julioî along with ìI Am a Rockî and actually turn that goofy dribble into something digestible. Other cuts getting a distortion makeover are ìMandy,î ìUptown Girl,î and ìSeasons in the Sun.î Donít scoff. I canít believe it myself when Iím rolling along, and I find myself drumming on the steering wheel to songs I once detested, but this is a fun record that has some heavily distorted riffing renovating the original versions of these songs into headbanging blowouts. Plus, itís fun to crank this stuff at red lights and see the looks on the faces of other drivers and their passengers as they realize what theyíre hearing.
There are certainly other albums I seem to gravitate to in my car, but for ìWorth Checking Outî I wanted to discuss some music that relies upon the guitar work. My musical tastes take me to quite a few different styles in the course of a week. In the car I also have traditional jazz, bebop, bluegrass, old gospel, folk (Nick Drake is great for the car!), swing, new age, blues, classical, synthesizer music, and all different forms of rock and roll. Variety is the spice of life, and as long as itís music done with integrity, itís probably something Iím willing to include in my listening library.
With the summer concert season upon us, I hope to be reviewing some live shows in the next few months. In the meantime, anyone curious about my offbeat and somewhat archaic listening preferences can track down some of the bands and music I discussed this month. It will serve you well as you motor your way through lifeís adventures. You may not hear any of this stuff on your local airwaves, and you definitely wonít hear some of this stuff on your local airwaves; nevertheless, it isÖworth checking out.