“King Heroin” is a powerful song by James Brown told from the perspective of the drug itself. The song reached #6 on Billboard’s Soul charts in 1972 and scraped into the Top 40 of the Billboard Pop singles chart as well. From the album “There it Is.”
The clip here also has an additional two parts of this song that I didn’t know existed and don’t appear to be part of the “There It Is” album where “King Heroin” is from. If anyone out there knows where the other two parts came from (and what they’re officially called), please let me know.
A standout track from Parker’s 1976 album “Heat Treatment.” The song has not only been a part of Parker’s live set for several years, but was also covered by Rod Stewart in 1998. Trivia note: the T-shirt that Parker wears on the “Heat Treatment” album cover was one that I owned and wore when I was 6 years old. I don’t know what that says about me … or Parker for that matter … only that I feel like a rock star as much as anyone would wearing a T-shirt showing symmetrical lions in a pattern.
My favorite Billy Joel song of all-time. From Joel’s underrated 1982 album “The Nylon Curtain,” this was Joel’s attempt to create the ambience of a mid-period Beatles album. While I can’t say he completely achieves this goal, there are moments of brilliance on this album that come close. “Laura” is one of those moments.
This song has haunted me since I first heard it in the fall of 1982, especially given the early 1970s John Lennon-like feel of the arrangements and vocals. Critic Chuck Klosterman came close to describing to what I always thought the song was really going for in that he thought it was “about a relentlessly desperate woman … who is slowly killing the narrator by refusing to end a relationship that’s clearly over. Making matters worse is the narrator’s inability to say ‘no’ to Laura, a woman who continues to sexually control him.” I thought Klosterman nailed this song’s meaning to a T and for any of you hipsters that dismiss Joel on sight, the song is as emotionally complex as anything Elvis Costello or Richard Thompson has ever done. And not just because it contains the only “f-bomb” I’ve ever heard in a Joel song.
However, leave it to Joel to destroy these illusions by revealing to Klosterman in a later interview that “Laura” is actually about a co-dependent family member. While Joel’s intent may override what Klosterman (and subsequently, I) think the song is about, I would argue that Klosterman’s interpretation makes more logical sense and it’s the way I always took this song to mean for the past 30 years.
When I was about 5 years old or so, there was a 4-album set called “The No. 1 Hits of the 60s” that was advertised on TV constantly by a company called “TeleHouse” that retailed for $8.98. I remember the original ads from TV, especially a scene where some long haired guy was hanging from a window ledge while the McCoy’s “Hang on Sloopy” played behind him. Anyway, my Mom bought this box set and as soon as it arrived, I took it upstairs to the record player in my room and checked it out.
One of my favorite songs on the box set was Tommy James and Shondells’ “Crimson and Clover.” I played this over and over again and it wasn’t until I was much older that I realized that this was pop psychedelia at its finest. This wasn’t an “authentic” acid freakout ala Iron Butterfly. This was a pop group trying to adopt the psychedelic sound, but they did it very well … and a lot better than Iron Butterfly. The version here is the exquisite long version that was on the box set my Mom purchased, with the extended acid rock guitar solos and sound effects. Joan Jett did a fine cover in 1982, but it doesn’t top the original.
From Bowie’s most severely underrated album, 1970’s “The Man Who Sold the World”, “All the Madmen” is Bowie letting his psychedelic freak flag fly high. Lots of cosmically heavy lead guitars on this one … with a very trippy middle section. Take it from me … do not listen to this under headphones in an altered state of mind.
One of the many highlights from Bowie’s 1971 album “Hunky Dory,” “Life on Mars?” is one of Bowie’s finest ballads and one of the best songs ever recorded about the subject of films and film watching. The video appears to be a rare clip from the Aladdin Sane-era Bowie, with red mullet and blue mascara.
The song “Hit That” is a decent tune lamenting the collateral damage from teenagers’ casual sex, which often results in babies and other drama. The video, however, is something more. Instead of computer animation imitating reality, the video is literally reality imitating computer animation. A very, very clever concept for a video … especially with the dog as metaphor for an oversexed adolescent on the rampage. And yes, the fact that this video is approximately 10 years old underscores the fact that I’m on the outside of what’s hip and happening because … I’ve been a parent since 2002 and am now just gradually catching up with what I missed out over the last 11 years or so.
Many rock bands and performers (if they’re around long enough) record a “life is hell on the road” song. Some are sublime (Bob Seger’s “Turn the Page,” Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Lodi,” GWAR’s parody “The Road Behind”). Some are ridiculous (Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead or Alive” … as if there was any doubt).
However, my favorite is Mott the Hoople’s “Ballad of Mott the Hoople” which contains one of my all-time favorite lyrics about not only the quest for fame, but life itself: “I wish I’d never wanted then what I want now twice as much.” That’s deep. From Mott the Hoople’s 1973 album “Mott.”
Another gem from Randy Newman’s 1970 “12 Songs” album, this is Newman’s take on Stephen Foster’s “My Old Kentucky Home.” Newman’s version is not what you would call a friendly vision of the American South, but it’s done with a light enough touch so as to be more sardonic than mean.
Warren Zevon attempted something similar with 1982’s “Play it All Night Long,” but because it was much more explicit, it just came off as smug and patronizing and says more about Zevon than the people he was trying to attack.
Forget the Police’s “Every Breath You Take.” As creepy as that song is, Randy Newman’s “Suzanne” is even more disturbing. If Sting sounded coldly calculating in his stalker anthem, Newman adds a quiet confidence that is terrifying. The song is arranged like a nightmare: lazy piano rhythms lull you into a sense of relaxation while an organ nervously tries to tell you something’s wrong. Except the organ isn’t quite loud or powerful enough to warn you in time.
Though, leave it to Newman to have the last laconic, dry-as the-Sahara observation about his protagonist: “This guy is not really much of a threat.”
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