Rock

T. Rex “Electric Warrior” (1971)

On the shortlist of records that are so disarmingly likable that they make me temporarily forget how awful the world can be. What does the line “The President’s weird, he’s got a burgundy beard!” mean? I don’t know, but I’ve never been able to forget it.

This is probably the most stoned-sounding of the old glitter rock classics. Over half of the album is thoroughly chilled-out and spacey, mellow enough for the 4 AM drive home after a long night out. Along with that, Marc Bolan’s lyrics are some of rock’s greatest sexually charged nonsense. I can never tell if Bolan worked hard on these lyrics or if he just tossed ’em off (I like to think he tossed ’em off, too cool to care) and, really, that’s exactly what rock lyrics should be like—funny, mysterious, and beamed in from another dimension. —Jason

The Masked Marauders (1969)

An album that caused much curiosity as well as controversy when it was released late in 1969. The entire concept and mystique of The Masked Marauders (many would call it a hoax) was the brainchild of a then-staff writer at Rolling Stone magazine. From the beginning, the writer only intended it to be a joke, and pushed it to the extreme by printing a phony article about the band in Rolling Stone, as well as touting the upcoming release of the album. The joke obviously worked from the writer’s point of view, but apparently, the record-buying public didn’t get it.

The Masked Marauders were rumored to consist of Paul McCartney, George Harrison, John Lennon, Mick Jagger and Bob Dylan, all of whom supposedly performed on the record anonymously and without photos to preserve the “secrecy” (hence the group’s name). This caused the rumor mill to churn, and public anticipation of the album was so high that people lined up in droves at record shops to buy it on the day it was released. But as it turned out, the Masked Marauders were indeed not the “supergroup” everyone thought them to be, but actually a group of struggling studio musicians calling themselves “The Cleanliness and Godliness Skiffle Band”. Confused? Don’t feel bad, everyone else was, too!

The album’s hilarious liner notes alone showed that it totally reeked of farce, with the aforementioned Rolling Stone writer composing them under the pseudonym “T.M. Christian”. For those of you who don’t understand what that means, “T.M. Christian” is a play on words for a Peter Sellers movie from that same period called “The Magic Christian”, which also featured Ringo Starr. That probably explains why Ringo didn’t have time to appear on the Masked Marauders album (tongue firmly in cheek there!) The best bits of the liner notes are, and I quote: “leading experts now estimate that the music industry is 90% hype and 10% bullshit”; and “in a world of sham, the Masked Marauders, bless their hearts, are the genuine article” (are you getting the picture now?)

Now if all of THAT wasn’t enough to send you into hysterics, here’s the lowdown on the music: many of the songs on the album are every bit as tongue-in-cheek and performed the same way. For example, the lead track “I Can’t Get No Nookie” comes complete with a nearly dead-on vocal impersonation of Mick Jagger, and the classic “Duke Of Earl” is given another hilariously accurate impersonation, this time of Bob Dylan. Also included is a 10 minute-plus version of Donovan’s “Season Of The Witch”. This could qualify as the only “serious” track on the album, and it’s actually performed quite well; one of the best versions I’ve heard next to the one on the album “Super Session” by Mike Bloomfield, Stephen Stills & Al Kooper (yes, they were a REAL supergroup!)

If you got the “joke”, then get the album; for what it is, you’ll enjoy it! —Chuck

John Cale “Paris 1919” (1973)

It’s telling that Warner Brothers tags John Cale’s Paris 1919 as ‘classical’ music. While most would consider it rock or pop, it certainly is a genre defying album. With assistance from the UCLA symphony orchestra, Paris 1919 is heavy on strings juxtaposed with piano and guitar. Though, no particular instrument dominates the proceedings. In fact, all nine tracks are seamless, which is a small miracle anytime rock musicians recruit orchestras. The lyrics, seemingly about Western European aristocrats, are deeply impressionistic. Rarely is a clear story told, but the imagery is vivid.  The tone of the entire album – excepting the rocker “MacBeth” – is melancholic, as Cale is an observer of these characters milling about and passing through his sights. However, Cale doesn’t seem to have a favorable view of the upper crust of Western European society. I like to think “Half Past France,” the second to last track, represents Cale’s exit from this society, though it’s not clear who Cale thinks is after him (“If they’re alive then I am dead.”). The last song, “Antartica Starts Here,” which Cale whispers, seemingly is about a woman’s fading appeal, perhaps a metaphor for a stagnant and dying culture, or maybe just another composite sketch, part of the greater whole. —m patton

Warren Zevon “Warren Zevon” (1976)

You all know him as the “Werewolf in London”, but beyond that infectious radio hit, Warren Zevon has always been an ‘if you know you know’ kind of artist. The shadow cast between Zevon’s work and public appeal is no mystery. The guy doesn’t really look cool or attractive, he’s not edgy in any kind of an outsider way, and he doesn’t seem to have an angle. Yet, all these things seem to contribute to the charm once you’re in on it. Sort of cheesy arrangements placed over very well crafted, very mainstream LA sounding songs drenched in black humor. Almost lounge-y style of vocal delivery, which only seems to fit because he was such a known porn-addict/party dog that even when the songs are sad you kind of chuckle. He spent years as a loved session musician before calling on his friends to return the favor, so this album is loaded with guest appearances including some of the Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, Jackson Brown (also the producer), Bobby keys, Bonnie Rait, and many more, all lending some talent to this wonderful, and wonderfully overlooked record. —Alex

Nick Mason “Fictitious Sports” (1981)

One of the best Pink Floyd solo albums, but it’s not really fair to characterize it as such as it’s really a Carla Bley album that Mason agreed to put his name on in the hope of shifting more copies. (We can see how well that worked! Maybe if they had thrown a flying pig on…)

Anyway, it’s a superb record, and considering Wyatt was in sort of semi-retirement at the time this was recorded (he did very, very little between the ’75 Henry Cow gigs and the Rough Trade singles that formed the basis of “Nothing Can Stop Us”) it’s a great pleasure to hear his voice on the majority of the album. “I’m A Mineralist”, a simultaneous parody of sexual perversion and Philip Glass, is often cited as the highlight and indeed it is a very good song, but there’s honestly not anything bad on tap anywhere. Recommended to Wyatt and Bley fans. For anyone buying this hoping to hear some of the excitement and thrills of “The Grand Vizier’s Garden Party”… WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? —David

Moby Grape “20 Granite Creek” (1971)

I’ve come to realize two things about Moby Grape: one is that they are very much the sum of five very different songwriters, preventing a certain cohesiveness to their records.  The other is that their good songs are so good that they make having every record worth it just to use as mix tape secret weapons. “20 granite creek” was recorded after the bands first split as sort of a last attempt to mend the original Grape during that era, and it’s certainly the most solid album since their classic self-tiled debut. Most people (record nerds I mean) will jump straight to Skip Spence when referring to Moby Grape’s music of deeper conscience. This is understandable since he’s kind of the U.S. version of Syd Barrett; your classic “acid casualty” who split from the Grape due to insanity, relocating from groovy california to nutty Bellevue Hospital in New York for a stint, followed by the classic head-damaged solo album “OAR”. But even after a resume like that, Spence’s contributions of dark emotion fall flat to the songs of over-looked member Peter Lewis. where Lewis gets his muse is beyond me. He seems far more boring of a 60’s dude than Skip, however, his songs, “Apocalypse” and “Horse out in the Rain” are not only the best of “20 Granite Creek” but the best Moby Grape songs period. Apocalyspe is sort of a Byrds or Neil Young like tune, in which its very rocking and electric guitar based, but with a mellowness in the vocals that spans across the paced hook of the drums. The last track on the record “Horse” is something else all together. A short dark little folk tune laced in echo and reverb string arrangements. Very, very haunting.  And the rest of this rockin’ little record is pretty good too, especially with aid of doobie smoke or incense to paint the mood. But again those two afore mentioned songs are more than worth what modest amount this LP costs, because both possess that rare, magical thing that the best psychedelic music of late 60’s/early 70’s possesses: a timeless quality. —Alex

Patti Smith “Horses” (1975)

During the late 1990’s, in my young teenage years, I fell deeply into your standard “punk” phase. Naturally I was well aware from day one that “Horses” stood as some sort of ultimate classic among the genre’s first outpour. Teachers would tell you this, parents, Rolling Stone magazine. As a young idiot, i would agree. Maybe out of guilt for not “getting it”. I realize now that that’s total bullshit. “Horses” is not a great punk album. Not anymore. Not to a kid. It is, however, one of the finest rock albums ever crafted. Perfect 70’s, in-the-pocket, electric guitar music stretched across unchained, stream of conscience song writing. It’s so genius in the way that Patti Smith seems to understand that the groove of rudimentary rock music is in itself high art. No need to delude it with prog timing or bloated arrangements. Yet as organic as the record sounds, it still comes across like some wild audio painting with no concrete rules or limits. The way that the band speeds up and slows down through tracks like “free money” or the title track, is so natural, so jammin’, that i find myself uncontrollably shaking my hips with every listen, including right now behind the counter at Jive Time. Now that’s a true monument to American culture, counter or otherwise. For fans of The Stones, The Velvets, or American high art in general. Not for punks. —Alex

Arthur Brown & Craig Leon “The Complete Tapes of Atoya” (1984)

A high-level head-scratcher in the best of ways, The Complete Tapes of Atoya is one of those records that defies reason by it’s very existence.  As confounding a pair-up as it reads on paper, it’s still somewhat hard to believe that a record featuring these two forces (yes, Crazy World Of Arthur Brown Arthur Brown) would go un-noted to the extent it has.  Although Craig Leon may not signify as a household name, he was a significant figure in the development of the NYC punk and new wave scene of the mid-late ’70’s and beyond, working A&R and producing for Sire Records – bringing the Ramones, Blondie, Richard Hell, and Suicide to the label and working on all of the aforementioned classic debuts.

Recorded in ’81 Atoya sat unreleased for three years – not that it made a difference.  It’s doubtful the world was more prepared for this in 1984 than it was three years earlier.  Working a musical program of what would now be termed “minimal synth,” Leon’s stark synth and drum machine backdrops resemble the early output of Cabaret Voltaire or Depeche Mode, even flying close to Human League levels of anthemic pop with the jubilant “Strange Romance”.  On top of it all perches the inimitable Arthur Brown, eccentric and wound up as ever, holding forth with formidable accent on the big issues: dinosaurs, big guns, and the King of England.  Perhaps best of all, and worth the price of admission alone, is what could be the definitive swipe at the Diddley/Holly chestnut “Not Fade Away”.  Many have thrown their ring in the hat with this standard, but no one has ever quite done it this way.  Sounding more than a bit like Suicide, the skeletal, mechanical funk boils all of the swagger out of the song, save for Brown’s straining, leg-caught-in-beartrap howl, rivaling Devo’s wry covers of “Satisfaction” or “Working In A Coalmine” in terms of visionary, bizarre re-animation.  A record who’s time it feels, may have finally come. —Jonathan Treneff

A Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On:
A Guide to Rockabilly; Past and Present

For the uninitiated, the idea of discussing Rockabilly as an independent genre might seem unnecessary. Isn’t the word just a descriptor for early rock and roll, the remarkable if somewhat overplayed work of Rock’s founding fathers, the stuff that gave birth to all that came after? Isn’t it just “oldies”? In one sense, yes, those classic songs we all know, put out by the likes of Jerry Lee Lewis and Carl Perkins, are indeed Rockabilly, and formed the trunk of the rock and roll tree. But oldies? Ah, think again, Grasshopper. Though the sound that was early Rockabilly certainly did morph into all we’ve come to know as Rock, the core sound has remained alive and vital since its inception. Dare I say it? When it comes to Rockabilly, there remains a whole lotta shakin’ going on.

But what is it? What makes something a Rockabilly song? While there is no single definition that is likely to please all, Rockabilly at its essence is a blend of Country and Blues. If Rockabilly is the trunk of the rock and roll tree, it owes its growth to the healthy roots of the earliest American sounds, which until the 1950s could arguably be broken into two categories: white music (incorporating the varied elements of County), and black music (including all aspects of Rhythm and Blues). During the era of segregation, access to music was segregated as well, and the lines between Country and Blues were more distinct. As the U.S. moved into the World War II and post World War II era, several factors combined that came to influence the development of rock and roll: rationing and war recruitment made it difficult to maintain the large touring bands of the Swing era, massive population shifts meant more interaction between different racial groups, post-war affluence and stabilized family structure allowed American teen culture to develop, and the invention of FM radio meant teenagers had access to music they had never heard before. The resulting blend of white and black sounds and culture are responsible for what we know now as the Rockabilly sound.

The first wave of music resulting from those historical forces is what most people know as Rockabilly, and one cannot seriously examine that generation without discussing Sun Records. Sun, the brainchild of Sam Phillips, was a Memphis recording studio founded in the early 1950s. Phillips is famous for recording and producing work by Elvis Presley, Carl Perkins, Johnny Cash, and Jerry Lee Lewis among others, and he is credited with creating the original Rock and Roll sound. “Rocket 88”, a song often cited as the first Rock and Roll (and first Rockabilly) song was recorded at Sun, and in some ways represents the racial and musical divisions of the time. Though Sun is most noted for work with white musicians who incorporated a black sound, African-American artist Jackie Brenston first recorded “Rocket 88” at Sun as part of Ike Turner’s Kings of Rhythm band. Interestingly, though Sam Phillips recorded the song, he gave it to Chess, a dominantly black label, for release.

Other notable artists of the time included Gene Vincent, most noted perhaps for his hit “Be-Bop-a-Lula”, Eddie Cochran, whose “20 Flight Rock” was made famous in the film “The Girl Can’t Help It” and whose “Summertime Blues” was a hit for both him and later The Who, and Bill Haley, who also recorded and released a version of “Rocket 88”, and who would later score hits such as “Rock Around the Clock” and a version of “Shake, Rattle, and Roll”. A bit of sleuthing into any of these artists, or others such as Chuck Berry, Billy Lee Riley, Joe Bennett, or Bo Diddley, can lead the interested newbie to scores of others from those early years.

As the new sounds of the 1960s began to dominate the airwaves, Rockabilly faded into the background, or rather was incorporated into the styles of new chart toppers such as The Beatles and The Rolling Stones, both of whom were deeply influenced by early American Rockabilly. Numerous artists continued to play “pure” rockabilly, however, and the 1970s and 80s brought what some would consider the second wave. Artists such as Sleepy LaBeef (pictured), Ronnie Dawson, and Ray Campi led the pack, though none were new to the scene. Sleep LaBeef, for example, had been recording since the 1950s, and joined the Sun roster in 1970. His career exemplified the “big in Japan” element that sometimes characterized rockabilly of the era. LaBeef’s popularity increased in Europe while never cracking the charts in the United States, even as nostalgia for the music began to emerge in mainstream American media with films such as “American Graffiti” and the television show “Happy Days”.

One European who was strongly impressed by Rockabilly was Ronnie Weiser (pictured), who would eventually move to the United States and form Rollin’ Rock Records, a label devoted to the sound. Weiser, a seminal figure in the “rebirth” of Rockabilly, reissued numerous recordings from the early days, and eventually began to release new material, including music from The Blasters, who became part of a larger collection of Rockabilly artists who would thrive in the 1980s.

1980s Rockabilly was often marketed as a kind of New Wave music, and it was during this era that Rockabilly began to split into its own set of sub-genres. The Blasters continued to thrive as part of the L.A. Punk scene, and a cover of their song “Marie, Marie” was a U.K. hit for Welsh artist Shakin’ Stevens. The Stray Cats (pictured) had enormous mainstream success with hits such as “Stray Cat Strut” and “Rock This Town”, though interestingly they had to move to England in order to get their first big break. Other bands of note from the time included The Polecats and The Rockats. Sub-genres, born of a blend of Rockabilly and other genres including Punk, Garage, and Surf, would birth new artists such as The Reverend Horton Heat, The Cramps, and Jason and the Scorchers. Numerous disagreements have since ensued regarding which of these and other artists are or are not authentic Rockabilly, who veered too much toward pop, who sold out, and so on. While occasionally divisive, the fact there was and is a large enough body of work to argue about speaks to the strength and permanence of the Rockabilly sound itself.

And lest you think Rockabilly is only a boys’ town, rest assured the ladies have been making their mark from the beginning. A woman named Willie Mae “Big Mama” Thornton recorded the original version of “Hound Dog”, after all, later made famous by Elvis Presley. Wanda Jackson (pictured), known as the “female Elvis” has been working her distinct growl and hiccup since the early 1950s. Jack White, a devoted Jackson fan, recently worked with her on the 2011 album, “The Party Ain’t Over”, for which she toured steadily as the opening act for Adele. Other women from the early years include Barbara Pittman and Janis Martin, and there are numerous successful modern artists such as Rosie Flores, Marti Brom, and Kim Lenz. Lisa Pankratz, one of the most respected and in-demand Rockabilly drummers of the present day, is a woman as well.

Today, Rockabilly is thriving around the world, and though none of today’s artists are breaking through to crack the auto-tune dominated modern charts, numerous bands record and tour successfully for a wide international audience of devoted fans. Notable artists of the last two decades include High Noon, Big Sandy (pictured), Deke Dickerson, Ray Condo, and literally hundreds – if not thousands – of lesser known acts around the globe, many of which are connected in an intimate and tightly woven network that extends from the former nations of the Soviet Bloc to South America, and new voices steadily continue to enter the ring. Check out JD McPherson and Lanie Lane for a start.

Finally, few musical genres have spawned so defined a lifestyle. Though music remains the heart of the Rockabilly world, the clothing, hair, cars, and conventions are a serious accompaniment for many. Numerous annual conventions, such as Viva Las Vegas in Las Vegas, Nevada and the infamous Hemsby Weekender in England, sell out every year. All told, between the fashion, the records, and the travel, Rockabilly could be said to have its own thriving economy. It even has its own Hall of Fame. Though Rockabilly will no doubt continue to have its share of lean years and occasional break out stars, it is safe to say the sound will continue to make its appearance in both leading and supporting roles for a long time to come. —Tamara Bunnell

Roxy Music “Manifesto” (1979)

Though they don’t exactly fly out of the used bin like the early records, a strong case can be made that Roxy Music’s “second act” releases are, in their own way, just as singular and compelling as their genre-defining early efforts. Manifesto was the first Roxy Music album to emerge after a four-year hiatus that saw most of the group venture off into solo territory, with mostly satisfying results. Still, a lot had changed in the time they’d been away. Disco’s four-on-the-floor pulse had fully asserted it’s dominance of mainstream pop music, conveniently, right around the time the earliest drum machines were appearing on the market. Never ones to be left in the dust, Roxy managed to embrace the new zeitgeist without sounding cloying or desperate. Manifesto succeeds on it’s own terms, somehow compelling the old, brittling skeleton of their art-rock roots to support new, unfamiliar flesh.

Opening with the disco-ball pulse and crawl of the title track, Ferry and crew come out of the gate (quiet) storming, as if they’d never been away. The deep groove is completely in step with the times, while retaining the subtle menace and mystery that touches all their best work. Ferry sounds both acutely aware of their potentially precarious position as would-be-elder statesmen entering a new era, and characteristically blithe in the utter confidence that he and his band will sail through unscathed to victory. After an extended intro, Ferry finally struts into the mix, ready and willing to silence all naysayers, intoning “I am for a life around the corner/that takes you by surprise/that comes and leaves all you need/and more besides.” Manifesto, indeed. —Jonathan

Shoes “Silhouette” (1984)

Despite guitars being toned down in favor of keyboards and electronic drums, Shoes’ Silhouette still retains a lot of the qualities of their earlier releases. While the sound is spare and dry to be sure, the consistency of their songwriting remains strong, with lightweight popsters like “Get My Message”, “When Push Comes To Shove”, and “Turnaround” taking prominence, though the robotic charm of “Will You Spin For Me” may be the single most irresistible track. Shoes’ airy, almost artificial sounding vocals actually make for a decent fit to the approach here, so if you don’t mind pure pop with an electronic heartbeat, I’d recommend Silhouette. –Ben

Kid Creole & The Coconuts “Tropical Gangsters/Wise Guy” (1982)

Coming out of the same NYC/Ze Records school that fostered the likes of Tom Tom Club, James Chance, and Was (Not Was), Kid Creole managed to stand out in a scene with no shortage of eccentrics, jokers, and flat-out freaks. One glance at the album covers confirms that no two words could have better summed up the entire ethos of this bizarre ensemble better than Tropical Gangsters, the UK title of the Coconuts third album. Kid Creole was an ex-English teacher who put his Masters degree into the service of a theatrical, but light-hearted take on the post-disco-funk explosion that was setting NYC clubs on fire in the early-’80’s. Creole’s former career bled through into the highly conceptual narratives that pre-occuppied his songs and albums, and Tropical Gangsters is no exception. The loose theme of the album revolves around the group being shipwrecked on an island of outcasts and their “gruesome ordeal”, as they are forced to play “RACE MUSIC” to broker their escape. Being of Latin descent, the Kid and his half-brother and bandmate never demurred from their background, often winkingly embracing it in the music and image of the band. Their sense of humor naturally extended into the songs themselves – “Annie, I’m Not Your Daddy” employs the female Coconuts in a dialogue wherein our hero must settle a question of paternity the only way a tropical gangster knows how – with brutal frankness – “See if I was in your blood/Then you wouldn’t be so ugly”. Tropical Gangsters takes the coconut and runs with it from here, with seven more hilarious tales of island-life scandal and intrigue that duly threaten to grind the dance floor to dust while they’re at it. KC had made good albums before this, but this was where the songs and the groove finally came together to create the perfect tropical storm. —Jonathan