THURSDAY REVERB

So who says the Reverb has to be something I wrote years ago? How 'bout something I just wrote in January -- which NOBODY commented on -- about an artist I'm DETERMINED to turn you guys on to? I had the pleasure of seeing Jill last night, downtown at my new favorite hangout, the City Winery, doing a show in which her songs alternate with stories told by the delightful actress-writer Julia Sweeney. (And yes, I promised I'd mention the opening act, Justin Trawick, who was a hoot and a half himself). The evening couldn't have been more fun, and I'm on a Jill Sobule jag all over again...

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

"Sweetheart" / Jill Sobule

I'm a little hurt that Jill Sobule decided to move out to California without asking me. I mean, I know our acquaintance never amounted to more than me sitting in the audience while she sang on stage, but still. The point was, she was living in Brooklyn, just over the river, and I liked the idea that this girlfriend -- potential girlfriend, anyway -- was just a subway ride away.

It does make me feel a little better, though, to listen to California Years and discover that Jill is the same fish out of water there as she was here. I mean a real misfit, not a rocker cliche in biker boots. The Stevie Nicks/Chrissie Hynde/Joan Jett singers never did much for me anyway. I totally prefer Jill's elfin quality, the breathy voice, the wry self-effacing humor -- she had it all down long before Zooey Deschanel wandered onto the scene, with her own saucer eyes and effortless vocals. (I love Amy Rigby for that same quality.) Clinging onto the margins of the music world, Jill -- notice how we're on a first-name basis -- has never been the Next Big Thing. (As she says in an earlier song "Freshman," "I live like a freshman / I still have a roommate") In fact, to finance this album she had to solicit donations from her fans, which is why track 14 on the new album is called "The Donor Song."

When an artist is this fringe-y, it's easy to miss when they release a new album. Catch 22 -- the label doesn't spend money to promote it, so no one knows about it, so it doesn't sell, so the label doesn't spend money to promote it. But over the holidays, Amazon offered a $5 album sale for MP3 albums, and (I never can resist a sale) as I browsed through the choices, there was California Years, an album I hadn't even known existed. I one-clicked immediately.



On first listen, I realized that I already knew this one track; I had heard it last summer on Sirius Radio (on Sirius Disorder, or The Loft, or whatever they're calling my obscure boho station these days). I remember being so enthralled by it, I could barely drive. I can still visualize the hillside road I was cruising up in Connecticut when it came on -- cows to the right, corn to the left, aching blue skies above. Not that I noticed. Jill's whispery little-girl voice was made for storytelling intimacy, and when she starts on a story, I am so there with her.

It's a simple story. Jill is sitting in a diner, watching a waitress, fantasizing about being her sweetheart. I picture the diner, the same one in that Adrienne Shelley movie Waitress, one of the best girlfriend movies of the past few years. My other point of reference is a lovely old Maria Muldaur song, also called "Sweetheart," also about a waitress (this one in a donut shop), only that one's from the waitress own viewpoint, fantasizing about one of her regular customers -- who so carelessly calls her "sweetheart" as he picks up his daily coffee. I'd love to know if Jill had this song in mind when she wrote hers.

Maybe that's why Jill calls this song "Sweetheart," instead of "Waitress" -- but it could also be because to her, the table-waiting is really irrelevant. Like Ray Davies, Jill is never a passive observer; she fiercely projects her emotions and sympathies into a vignette. I am so moved by her tenderness, all the more so because it's for a woman she doesn't even know.

Despite that gamine quality, Jill's a scrapper, flaring up in righteous anger about the male customer berating this poor waitress. Then in verse two she drifts off into her own fancy about how she'd care for this woman. ("If I was your secret / And you were my keeper / I think we'd be happy..."') A plangent bit of slide guitar sneaks in (the superb Greg Leisz), and some soft male back-up vocals -- an intriguing touch, as if to fudge the sexuality.

Is the waitress gay? Does Jill even know, or care? Because the fact is, she's never going to make a move with the waitress. This romance is all in the World of What If. Which, if we're honest, is where most of our most passionate romances lie anyway. The power of her fantasy tells us less about the waitress's beauty than it does about Jill's own loneliness and longing. Oh, she'd write songs for this woman, IF she was her sweetheart . . . but hey, Jill has already written the song.

WEDNESDAY SHUFFLE

Hoping for a little summer serendipity on today's shuffle...

1. "The Islands" / Black 47
From Bankers and Gangsters (2010)
Which reminds me -- I owe blogritics.org a review of this new album by Celtic rock stalwarts Black 47. Dig this nostalgic horn-filled ode to the auld country -- sweet and soulful and just a tad sad.

2. "Flying High" / Jem
From Finally Woken (2004)
I know nothing about this singer; I barely know how this got on my iTunes. But it's such a wistfully sexy number, I never can quite bring myself to delete it. High breathy vocals, with just a touch of synths underlying the delicate acoustic guitar -- so girlish, but just LOADED with desire.

3. "Angels Wanna Wear My Red Shoes" / Elvis Costello
From My Aim Is True (1977)
"Oh, I used to be disgusted, / Now I try to be amused / But since their wings have got rusted / You know, the angels want to wear my red shoes." And didn't we all want to wear Elvis's red shoes back then? Jangly punk-pop with more than a touch of snarky attitude -- this guy was this good from the very start.

4. "We Gotta Get Out of This Place" / The Animals
From Animal Tracks (1965)
I'd have run off with him, wouldn't you?

5. "Inch By Inch" / Elvis Costello
From Goodbye Cruel World (1984)
I wonder how much Style Council music Elvis Costello had been listening to when he put out this wickedly tasty album. Goodbye Cruel World certainly added a heaping helping of soul to the by-then-getting-stale EC formula (remember the lead-off hit "Only Flame in Town"?). Didn't care for it at the time; adore it now.

6. "You Got My Number" / Dr. Feelgood
From Brilleaux (1986)
Throw together soul, punk, and old-fashioned rock 'n' roll, and you have the recipe for Dr. Feelgood. Even on this later album, when the band had moved to the Stiff label and adopted a more radio-ready sound, their stuff just sizzles. Churning automotive guitar riffs, the punctuations of horns, and Lee Brilleaux's savagely sexy voice -- that's a number I'm definitely dialing.

7. "Right Place, Wrong Time" / Dr. John
From In the Right Place (1973)
And now here comes a second opinion from the Other Doctor -- Dr. John, a.k.a.Mac Rebennack, that mighty practitioner of soul pumped up with New Orleans funk. This is one of those radio hits I always turned up louder when it came on, but it took 30-plus years for me to finally buy it, just last week, in anticipation of a trip to New Orleans at the end of the summer. Swampy, and just a little bit nasty. Whoo-hah!

8. "Back To You" / Bill Jerram Band
From Bill Jerram Band (2005)
Bill Jerram -- a.k.a. Billo from the Ray Davies fan forum -- surprised us all with this sprightly album, full of melody and bop and crunchy guitar. Reminds me a lot of Steve Miller -- which reminds me, I've been meaning to do a Steve Miller for a few days now...

9. "Love Is An Outlaw" / Tom Gallagher
From Age of the Wheel (unreleased)
Talk about talented friends from the Ray forum -- Tom Gallagher was one of the great undiscovered rockers. I was lucky enough to get a copy of Tom's magnificent unreleased album shortly before his untimely death in 2007. This track really shows off his lazy drawling vocals and his plangent guitar work. Peace on you, Tom.

10. "I Believed You" / The Kinks (then called the Ravens)
From The Kinks (1964)
Inevitably, it all comes back to the Kinks. This early unreleased Ray Davies demo -- Beatle-sweet and teen-pop perky -- was appended as an extra track on the reissue of this debut Kinks album. Slight, yes, derivative, yes -- but Ray Davies' songwriting talent was clearly already in gear.

Well, I'm on to "Have A Cuppa Tea" from Muswell Hillbillies -- the official shuffle stops here, but if I'm on a Kinks roll, I'm not turning off my computer!

Thursday Reverb

Liz reminded me of this one at reunion -- and I was so bummed out that I'd never written about it. How could I overlook such a gem? Well, it turns out I didn't!


Tuesday, March 13, 2007

“Red Rubber Ball” / The Cyrkle

I think I got 50 cents a week for allowance when this song came out -- it cost nearly two week’s pay for me to buy the single “Red Rubber Ball.” (Albums? Out of the question. I was strictly a single-buyer back in 1966.) I didn’t know it was co-written by Paul Simon -- back when I could read the tiny print of songwriting credits, I didn’t think to do so. I didn’t even know that the Cyrkle was managed by Brian Epstein, who’d suggested that deliberately misspelled band name to imitate the Beatles. It was just a catchy, upbeat tune I’d heard on the radio, with nifty harmonies and a memorable organ riff. And who knows, maybe I saw this appearance on Hullabaloo (dig the Paul Anka intro...)



But whatever it was that sucked me in, I knew I just had to own this record.

I was too young to have had a boyfriend -- I could hardly judge whether this was a convincing break-up song. And yet I think I did pick up on the complex emotions in “Red Rubber Ball.” At first the singer claims he’s moved on – “Now I know you're not the only starfish in the sea / If I never hear your name again, it's all the same to me” – but doesn’t it seem like he’s bluffing? Especially when we get to the chorus -- the drumbeat turns edgy and aggressive, tambourines shiver loudly, and we shift into a minor key: “And I think it's gonna be all right / Yeah, the worst is over now / The morning sun is shining like a red rubber ball.” I don’t know, that “red rubber ball” image always sounded unnatural to me. He’s not out of the woods yet.

Now that I’m older and wiser, I pick up on all the zinger disses tucked away in the lyrics -- “You never cared for secrets I’d confide / For you I'm just an ornament, something for your pride / Always running, never caring, that's the life you live / Stolen minutes of your time were all you had to give.” The vocals sound so sincere, I totally side with the singer, pulling for him to get through this messy break-up. “The roller coaster ride we took is nearly at an end / I bought my ticket with my tears, that's all I'm gonna spend.” Now that organ riff makes sense – it’s the calliope playing on the carnival midway, and the swoops of the verse’s melody are roller-coasterlike indeed. Well, when I was a kid I loved roller-coasters, loved to feel my stomach plunge and my heart hammer. Now I avoid them like the plague.

The Cyrkle weren’t entirely a one-hit wonder. Their follow-up single, “Turn Down Day,” was a groovy track with a hint of psychedelia and harmonies to die for. Still, the band faded soon into obscurity (half of them went into jingle-writing for Madison Avenue – Tom Dawes wrote that classic Alka-Seltzer “plop-plop fizz-fizz” jingle). Was this brilliant single just luck? Who knows? I only know that I still perk up when I hear it. It’s a good starting-over song . . . a good song for spring. Enjoy!

WEDNESDAY SHUFFLE

Sweltering hot here in New York City the past few days -- how has it been where you are? Too hot to do anything else but switch on my shuffle!

1. "Hey Scenesters!" / The Cribs
From The New Fellas (2005)
Snappy guitar riffs, crisp drums, and the Jarman brothers shouting "Hey scenesters! Hey, hey scenesters!" over and over. It's like a BritPop version of the Tremeloes' goofy, genial "Even the Bad Times Are Good," right down to the lo-fi production qualities -- except for a certain tunelessness (think the Strokes on a lager high) that betrays it as a 21st century track. Infectious energy -- you've just got to giggle.

2. "Back on the Corner" / John Hiatt
From Master of Disaster (2005)
Hard to believe this was released the same year as The Cribs' -- it's a little vintage soft shoe, sung in John's creaky old-guy voice, with banjo and slide guitar to give it that O Brother Where Art Thou? style. It almost sounds like a throwaway track, but hell, nothing Hiatt writes is ever a throwaway -- listen carefully and you'll pick up nuggets of survivor wisdom.

3. "If You've Got to Make A Fool of Somebody" / Jackie DeShannon
From For You (1967)
Ah, mid-60s pop. Strings, back-up choirs, even a bloopy trombone here and there -- pour on the lush studio effects! Still, you have to hand it to Jackie -- who else was going to move the girl group sound into the hippie era?

4. "I Want to Say a Prayer" / Colin Blunstone
From Echo Bridge (1995)
I don't care who knows it -- I have a fangirl crush on Colin Blunstone, or at least on his dreamy, creamy voice. His soft-rock solo albums are nothing compared to his work with the Zombies, but sometimes this romantic mush is just what I need. (Picture big-haired Colin with his jacket slung over his shoulder and shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest.) Anyway, it's appropriate to hear this today, as today -- July 7 -- is the birthday of the wonderful Jim Rodford, who's played with Argent, the Kinks, the Animals, and nowadays with Colin in the modern-day Zombies. (Also Ringo Starr's 70th birthday, but who's counting?)

5. "She's Got You" / Loretta Lynn
From I Remember Patsy (1977)
Very few singers can cover a Patsy Cline song and hold their own -- but there's a reason why Loretta is the queen of country music. Her take on this Hank Cochran number is just a shade lighter and more kittenish than Patsy's, and in a way it works even better -- while Patsy's original was underlaid with steel, Loretta actually sounds just like a moony high-school girl, carrying a torch for her ex-steady guy.

6. "Garden Party" / Rick Nelson
From Garden Party (1972)
Oh, man, Ricky Nelson goes country. I remember being amazed by this amiable, lilting late hit -- like "American Pie," which had come out a year earlier, it's a riddling string of coded references to other musicians. But it's also Ricky's declaration of independence, casting aside the teen idol and coming into his own as country-rocker Rick. "You can't please everyone, so you got to please yourself," he tells us with a wink and nod. Life lesson.

7. "Funny Face" / The Kinks
From Something Else (1967)
A Dave song! I love Dave's voice, and this is a charming, quirky little love song, with a bit of music hall bounce. But when you're always being compared against a talent like his brother Ray . . . .

8. "How Kind of You" / Paul McCartney
From Chaos and Creation in the Backyard (2005)
And now here's Ringo's ex-bandmate. No surprise -- I've got A LOT of this guy's stuff on my iPod, and (ahem) not all of it good. I do wish Paul McCartney would pay somebody -- somebody like me, perhaps -- to warn him off of gooping up simple little songs. That muddy harmonium, or whatever, tries to build this into an anthem, a status this slight song can't carry. I'd have rewritten a lyric here or there, kept the track acoustic, and cut the whole thing off at three minutes. Then we'd have had a beauty!

9. "Seesaw" / Don Covay
From Seesaw (1966)
Classic R & B, with a sassy horn section, handclap rhythms, and an innuendo streak a mile wide. "Your love is like a seesaw / Up, down, and all around..." I wonder who that is doing the crazy talking alongside Covay's honey-sweet vocals. Covay's one of those guys whose fingerprints are all over 1960s R&B; he started out in The Rainbows with young Marvin Gaye, but he's best known as a songwriter ("Chain of Fools," "Mercy Mercy," and many others). He wrote this one with resident Stax genius Steve Cropper, which may account for the perky Booker-T-style beat. Deee-lish.

10. "Oklahoma USA" / The Kinks
From Muswell Hillbillies (1971)
Now this is how it's done. That harmonium is so light, just a sigh here and there, against a tinkling upright piano; and Ray's breathy, yearning vocals. I think of this as an early version of "Come Dancing," soaked with nostalgia for the American culture that fed North London teens in those lean postwar years. It makes me cry every time. "All life we work, but work is a bore / If life's for living, what's living for?" Words to live by.

"King of the Road" / Roger Miller

Well, my Tuesday guest blogger has decamped -- distracted by a trip to Boston (not to mention his malfunctioning iMac). But who cares? I've just found out that Nick Lowe is touring the US in the fall -- thanks, Mike! -- and I'm on cloud nine.

And -- shoot me now -- this is the song that's been teasing my brain lately. I probably heard about five seconds of it on the radio this past weekend, before the kids screamed and switched stations. They don't even know this song; they just hated it because it sounded country. Where did I go wrong?

But I don't hate this song. This is a finely crafted little number -- not really country at all, except for Roger Miller's twangy accent and, well okay, the fact that the hero is a hobo. All right, so it is pretty much a country song. But it's classic country, sharp and smart and satirically funny. I have great memories of hearing this on the radio as a kid, along with such other Roger Miller hits as "Dang Me," "England Swings," "Kansas City Star" ("Kansas City star, that's what I are"), "Chug A Lug" ("chug a lug, chug a lug, / Makes you want to sing Hi De Ho! / Burns your tummy don't you know"), and of course the inimitable "You Can't Roller Skate in a Buffalo Herd." Best of all, Roger was in on the joke with us -- that was the sophisticated edge. How could you not love this guy?



I have to say, I never can resist fingersnaps for an intro -- that's our first clue that this is going to be laidback and easy. He's poking gentle fun at his hobo lifestyle, and yet the carefree beatnik charm of it is actually appealing -- too bad the song came out in 1965, before the hippies really got going, because Miller's "king of the road" is pure On the Road.

The lyrics are tight and clever -- lines like "no phone, no pool, no pets / I ain't got no cigarettes," "two hours of pushing broom buys a / Eight by twelve four-bit room," and of course the neat inversion of "I'm a man of means by no means." Even better is how Miller fits the lyrics to his tune -- just listen to the bridge, where he exults about knowing "every handout in every town / And every lock that ain't locked when no one's around." The parallelism, with those "every's" and "lock's" falling on just the right notes, is the mark of a real songsmith.

His hero may be a hobo, but he's a resourceful hobo, with plenty of people skills, and he's able to relish his pleasures -- listen to the satisfaction as he describes those old stogies he finds. He's not feeling sorry for himself, not blaming anybody, just living his life from day to day. In these desperate economic times, plenty of good folks are living this kind of hand-to-mouth lifestyle. We might as well embrace it.

"We Can Work It Out" / The Beatles

Every once in a while, a Beatles song comes on the radio and I listen -- I mean really listen, as if I'd never heard the song before -- and I'm gobsmacked all over again by their musical genius.

Take "We Can Work It Out." We're driving home from a brief vacation to Martha's Vineyard, spinning some CDs on the old car stereo. I throw on Beatles One -- by no means my favorite Beatles CD, just a hodgepodge of their big radio hits, and we all know that the best Beatles stuff was the album tracks, right? But then this number comes on -- the B-side to "Day Tripper," though it was really more like a double-A side, since this track got just as much radio play. And we all just held our breaths and listened . . .



Maybe it's because we were in the middle of one of those "this one's Paul and this one's John" conversations, but the artistry of this particular track suddenly bowled me over. The economy of the thing is breathtaking -- there's no intro, just one down chord and, bam! Paul earnestly entreats, "Try to see it my way," and we're off to the races.

The jaunty syncopation, the skipping melody, are sheer upbeat Paul-ness. He's so certain that a little give-and-take is all this couple needs to solve their romantic problems. (Oh, to be Jane Asher in 1965!) Of course, notice that behind all that glib charm, it's really his way or the highway: "While you see it your way / Run the risk of knowing that our love may soon be gone . . . Think of what you're saying / You can get it wrong and still you think that it's alright . . ." Working it out, apparently, means going along with Paul's viewpoint -- but really, look at that video, who could resist circa 1965 Paul McCartney?

But just when you're ready to say, "Oh, that's a Paul song," the key goes minor and a spooky harmonium steps up, creating a dark circus-y mood. As John joins in, singing a lower harmony to Paul, his voice takes over. (Someday we should do a poll about which harmony you always sing -- for me it's always the low part on this chorus). In this video, crafty John mugs away, stealing the limelight from Paul. But on the record, there's no comedy -- only darkness and edge. That's how the Lennon-McCartney collaboration worked at its best, counterbalancing Paul's brightness with John's cynicism and gloom, and vice versa.

The chorus's melody is characteristic John, ominous and brooding, with repeated notes and chromatic shifts: "Life is very short / And there's no ti-i-i-ime / For fussing and fighting, my friend." (Love the alliteration, and the northern gutturals on "fussing".) John doesn't coax, doesn't turn on the charm -- he seems irritated by the conflict (such a Libra). "I have always thought / That it's a cri-i-i-i-ime / So I will ask you once again" -- get that a knife-twist of a threat at the end. (I'm telling you one last time....) It's only a step from here to the truly unpleasant threats of "Run For Your Life."

Apparently George threw in the last master stroke: The switch from 4/4 to 3/4 time at the end of the chorus, turning the whole thing into a woozy haunted house waltz, with chords spiraling downward. It's like a foretaste of "Being For the Benefit of Mr. Kite," one of my favorite Beatles tracks ever. Somehow it makes me feel desperate -- this relationship's going out of control, it's doomed, wrists will soon be slit.

And then -- with two brisk beats, we're back in hopeful Paul land, trying to see it his way. Whew! The darkness is pushed underground, and all we have to deal with is sunshine and sincerity again. Of course we can solve it all. Just be reasonable, and . . .

Of course, "We can work it out" is a great philosophy until the day when you can't work it out anymore. We now know that Paul and Jane Asher eventually did go their separate ways. Even sadder, in just a few years the Beatles themselves would be wracked by internal disputes, unable to work anything out. Paul's sunniness and determination ran up against John's corrosive despair, and there weren't enough key changes in the world to save them. Well, partnerships dissolve all the time -- but a band this good? It ended way too soon.

THURSDAY REVERB

Are Julie and I the only Ron Sexsmith fans around here? That situation has GOT to be altered....

Friday, July 27, 2007

“These Days” / Ron Sexsmith

Yahoo!! Ron Sexsmith is going to be opening for Nick Lowe on several tour dates this fall – that’s about as good a two-for-one deal as it gets. As if I needed anything more to get psyched for seeing Nick!!

The Nick/Ron combo is a natural – both Lowe and his pal Elvis Costello are on record as Ron Sexsmith admirers – but my first taste of Ron Sexsmith was his cover of “This Is Where I Belong,” one of my favorite Kinks covers ever. Recommended by Nick, Elvis, AND Ray – that’s hitting my personal trifecta. And every Sexsmith album I’ve listened to completely lives up to its billing.



So I was already thinking about Ron Sexsmith, when the movie I was watching tonight – a 2004 Irish film called Intermission – suddenly broke into one of my favorite Sexsmith tunes, “These Days.” I knew it from the first heavy rhythmic drumbeats, and those gospel-like back-up doo-de-doos (which always remind me of “Walk On The Wild Side”); Ron’s voice is instantly recognizable, that choirboy tenor with its soulful vibrato. Given the thick Irish accents, I wasn't one-hundred percent following the movie, but when the song came on, every character was mired in romantic discouragement. What better time to hit the audience with a dose of Ron Sexsmith’s rueful charm?

“Promises are made to be broken / Haven't you heard?” he announces casually, addressing a woman he’s trying to win (or win back – it’s not clear). “He said he'd never break your heart / Now haven't you learned?" But he 's not scolding her, just sympathizing. "Oh, but love is not some popular song / Filled with empty sentiment,” he advises her. (Pretty gutsy, eh, to dismiss pop-song sentiment when you’re writing a pop song.) You can almost hear him shaking his head as he sings the chorus: “That's what passes for love / That's what passes for love / These days.” That midtempo syncopation, the easy lilting melody, make his argument seems so mellow -- well, that girl just has to listen.

It's a set-up, of course. He begins to pitch his own woo in the next verse: “It won't take a miracle, darlin' / Just keep it real.” He gives her an understanding shoulder to cry on – “I know how it feels / You took it to heart / What they said on the screen” -- then offers her an alternative: “No one can complete you or make you whole / But love will come to greet you halfway / Though the streets are never paved with gold.” And if she's got any sense, she's already relocating her affections.

Realistic advice about romance, sure, but it's anything but a downer. Sexsmith’s voice skips so warmly and affectionately from note to note, you just know things will turn out all right. He’s not blaming this woman, or pressuring her to go with him instead. He’s just going to slip his arm around her shoulder and be extremely sympathetic. And if that leads to something else…