Negativland’s legendary “cover” of U2′s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” with the centerpiece being legendary DJ Casey Kasem’s angry, profanity-laden rants at his staff. This bit of audio “fun” resulted in years and millions of dollars in lawsuits. Lots of bad language on this one. However, if there’s one thing you need to remember, “These guys are from England and who gives a s–t?!?”
Another classic from the mid-late 1960s that you never hear on either oldies or classic rock stations. It was a top three hit in Britain and went nowhere in the States, but it appears on the Kinks’ “Something Else” album and also frequently appears on a lot of Kinks best-of albums, even though it’s credited just to Dave Davies much of the time. In any case, I love the primitive B&W video “special effects” in this clip.
A lovely ballad from the early 1970s that blows Bread and other similar artists from the period out of the water. It boggles the mind why Big Star wasn’t one of the biggest bands of the era. Nearly every one of the songs from their first two albums could have been a Top 10 hit. The failure to break it big probably explains why their 3rd album (albeit great) is one of the most depressing, despairing things ever recorded.
With the exception of “While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” this is my favorite George Harrison song and arguably the finest song of his late-1980s comeback. And of course, it was thrown away as the end credits song for “Lethal Weapon II.” A really, really lovely song that always brings a smile to my face.
From the legendary and incredibly dark “Tonight’s the Night” album, comes the very scary “Lookout Joe.” While it sounds a little peppier than many of the songs on the album, it’s actually the roller coaster going downhill into hell.
Reed’s bone-chilling live version of his classic mini-rock opera “Street Hassle” from 1978. The “Take No Prisoners” album is legendary among Reed fans as being a stand-up comedy album because Reed gets back at some of the critics that have bothered him. However, I don’t think this is the “camp” masterpiece some people think it is. I believe it may be his best solo album. His band is phenomenal, the playing is powerful, the backup singers are terrific, and Reed, as f–ked up as he sounds, gives it his all. This version of “Street Hassle” is particularly memorable, especially the middle section where Reed takes on the character of the callous dope dealer talking to a client about getting rid of someone he brought over who OD’d. The way Reed spits out the lines is frightening and makes one believe he could have been a hell of an actor if he had gone down that road as an artist. The guitar playing during the last third will make the hairs on your neck stand up. A severely underrated masterpiece, even though Reed sounds really troubled and f–ked up on most of the songs. Oh, and the binaural sound that Reed embraced at that time (and had the album recorded with) sounds absolutely smashing on CD.
Lyrics that stop me in my tracks every time: “You know, some people got no choice … And they can never find a voice to talk with that they can even call their own … So the first thing that they see that allows them the right to be … Why they follow it, you know, it’s called bad luck.”
What was it about Joey Ramone that inspires the most loving tributes from fans and fellow musicians? Probably because in most of the tributes I’ve read and heard, he was universally talked about as being a sweetheart and a gentleman. This is a lovely song by Amy Rigby that I heard over the weekend on the Sirius satellite radio channel Little Steven’s Underground Garage. Joey’s brother Mickey Leigh paints a far darker picture of the man in his memoir “I Slept with Joey Ramone.” I don’t doubt Mickey’s account, but I also don’t doubt everyone else’s accounts either. I interviewed Joey for my college newspaper in 1990 and got a chance to meet him (and the rest of the Ramones) backstage after the gig he played near my local college. The show started 2 hours late due to (from what I was told) some issues with their road crew at the previous gig, but the Ramones gave it their all and still performed a great show. A friend of the club owner invited me backstage, and as soon as I got there, I immediately felt that I needed to leave. Not because I didn’t feel worthy, but because the band looked really tired and I felt they needed their space. However, Joey and the rest of the band received me graciously and were very cool. I told them they played a great gig, that I appreciated their music, and then left after a minute or two of minor chitchat. Again, they had no reason in the world to be cool to me, but they were. I’ll always be thankful for that and it’s an example I’ve always tried to keep in mind on how to treat people, even when you don’t feel like being your best.
Once upon a time, there was a vocalist from England who was probably the greatest rock singer of his time (the late 1960s/early 1970s). He achieved some critical respect as lead singer of The Jeff Beck Group and The Faces and a couple of decent solo albums. However, he decided that critical acclaim and minor commercial success wasn’t enough … he needed greater fame. So my theory is that he went to the same crossroads that Robert Johnson went to many years ago and made a deal with Satan for commercial success. Satan’s deal was that this singer would record one legendary, phenomenal album (“Every Picture Tells a Story”) and then with each progressive album, the quality would go down slightly … and then keep going down. So, the next solo album (“Never a Dull Moment”) was pretty good, but not as good as the previous endeavor … and then, this once great vocalist would progressively get worse (1978’s “D’ya Think I’m Sexy?”) … and then hitting the bottom of the barrel with sub-Tom Jones / Broadway garbage during the 1990s and 2000s that paradoxically was ridiculously successful commercially. Rick Rubin, if you’re out there, another terrific singer on the artistic skids needs your help!!!!!
I find that this version of “Sister Morphine,” sung at the time when Marianne Faithfull was actually going through the hell of what she’s singing about, is more compelling than the version she did at the end of the 1970s. Yes, the Stones’ version on “Sticky Fingers” is damn good, but this version is better in my opinion.
A special dedication to all of those who have shown their appreciation and support of this blog during the first month of its existence. To everyone who has browsed, thrown up a like or comment, or has officially followed this blog, it always brings a smile to my face and means more than you know.
Dave's Strange World 