A MUSICAL EDUCATION IN 1001 STEPS - PT 12

Miles Davis - The Birth of Cool (1957)

Everything I wrote about Thelonious Monk's Brilliant Corners two reviews ago stands for Miles' debut as a band-leader, here, as well. Birth of the Cool is both testament and witness to Miles' apprenticeship under Dizzy and Bird. One difference here is song duration. Unlike Monk, Miles was still sticking to the mythical "3 minutes" that songwriters believed was the "perfect" length for a successful piece of music. This perhaps makes Birth of the Cool the better starting point for someone wanting an introduction to modern or "cool" jazz, as Brilliant Corners' never-ending epics take a lot more out of the listener. That's not to say Birth of the Cool is Easy Listening. It requires concentration, as does anything of value. This is the kind of music people used to sit in dark, smokey clubs, put on their Jazz Face (everybody's got one) and think real hard about... but mostly they'd be thinking "Who does that guy facing the back of the room think he is? And who farted?" The answer to both those questions was, is, and always shall be an emphatic: "MILES DAVIS!" 

Had I heard it before? Yes.

Did I like it then? Yessir.

Do I like it now? Oh, yes.

What percentage of people reading this do I think will like it? Roughly 20-25%, which is actually pretty high!

Am I keeping it? Yes.

Standout Tracks? "Move", "Jeru", "Godchild", "Israel", "Darn that Dream"

A MUSICAL EDUCATION IN 1001 STEPS - PT 11

Sabu - Palo Congo (1957)

This music speaks to me. Unfortunately, it's speaking Spanish, so I don't understand a word.

I kid of course, but I also make a point. Those of you who've met me would most likely attest to the fact that I'm not what you'd call the dancing type. For myriad reasons, I simply do not dance. Consequently, I have never had much use for music that has as its primary function the instilling of a desire to dance in the listener. Sabu's Palo Congo falls into this category, a trait that I imagine will not be that uncommon as I go through The Book's 1001 picks.

It's not that I am oblivious to what it's trying to do to me. I do feel it. But as Sabu's ancient, tribal rhythms work their powerful mojo on the most primitive parts of my brain, I can't help but think of Peter Gabriel earnestly croaking out "The Rhythm of the Heat" (working title - I kid you not - "Jung in Africa") from his solo album Security: It goes a little something like this:

Looking out the window
I see the red dust clear
High up on the red rock
Stands a shadow with a spear...
Huff, huff, huff, huff...
The land here is strong
Strong beneath my feet
It feeds on the blood
It feeds on the meat
The rhythm is below me
The rhythm of the heat
The rhythm is around me
The rhythm has control
The rhythm is inside me...
THE RHYTHM HAS MY SOUL!!!"

Can you friggin' believe this guy?! And he says he quit Genesis because they were getting "too pretentious"? Don't "smash the watch", dude. Smash the fucking video camera so you can't embarrass yourself and your "real Africans from Africa" band by writhing around on the ground like Frankenstein's Monster on the verge of his first Tantric orgasm. Oops... Too late. Sorry!

Had I heard it before? I honestly couldn't tell you. After a while it all kind of blends into one, giant chicken-shredding voodoo jam.

Do I like it? Something inside me resists it.

Repeat Listenability? Very low. This stuff is like saffron. A little goes a long way.

Am I keeping it? No. However, I'm thinking this would pretty much be essential listening for anybody who writes, plays or records music for a living - or anybody who wants to do so. It's like a university level course in poly-rhythms.

Standout Tracks? "El Cumbanchero" is the only one that separates itself from the "boogada-boogada" blob in my mind, so I'll say that one.

A MUSICAL EDUCATION IN 1001 STEPS - PT 10

Thelonious Monk - Brilliant Corners (1957)

Thelonious Monk is the second most recorded jazz composer in history after Duke Ellington. Duke wrote over 1000 songs. Monk wrote 70. The things you learn from Wikipedia!

I'm loving this album. Even though I inherited a love of jazz from my dad, who was a huge fan of early Miles Davis and everything by Dave Brubeck, I make no claims to jazz hound status. I can't tell where a piece of music was recorded based on the ambient room dynamics like some jazz fans can. I also am not one of those Jazz Fascists who insists that if a piece of music deviates one iota from the strict parameters they set - be it Dixieland, or Swing, or Bebop, or (heaven forbid) Fusion - then "it isn't REAL JAZZ!"

All I know is what I can tell with my own two ears, and this kind of music - where virtuosi take turns trying to impress each other with mind-blowing improvisations over a structured theme - is what I think of when I think of Jazz. Did I mention that I'm loving this album?

Had I heard it before? No, much to my shame.

Do I like it? Yes.

Repeat Listenability? High.

Am I keeping it? Yes.

Standout Tracks? All five tracks are great, but my favorites are the title track and the piano solo "I Surrender, Dear"

A MUSICAL EDUCATION IN 1001 STEPS - PT 9

Count Basie - The Atomic Mr. Basie (1957)

These musico-literary gambols of mine are getting a bit longish for my liking. I originally meant to type out a few carefully-chosen 'bon mots' about the artist and/or the album in question, then move on to the next chapter. There are, after all, 1001 of these to get through, and - unlike everything else I've ever begun in my life, I would like to finish this at some point. But I keep having artists like Count Basie - and albums like The Atomic Mr. Basie, a.k.a. The Complete Atomic Mr. Basie, a.k.a. E=MC2 = Count Basie Orchestra + Neil Hefti Arrangements - thrown my way way.

Well, I'm not putting up with it any more, goddamnit. When The Book throws me a subject so pregnant it seems about ready to squat and drop a baker's dozen of atomic bombs, I may have to resort to throwing random words at the computer screen. Like this: "Thrilling, evocative, impressionistic, controlled, powerful, subtle, dynamic, legendary, beautiful, wonderful, perfect, priceless, peerless, essential."

I mean, for fuck's sake, it's Count Basie, bitches!


Had I heard it before? Yes.
Did I like it then? Yes.
Do I like it now? Yes.
Am I keeping it? Yes.
Standout Tracks? "The Kid from Red Bank", "Duet", "Flight of the Foo Birds", "Double-O", "Whirly-Bird", "Midnight Blue", "L'il Darlin", "Silks and Satins", "Sleepwalker's Serenade", "The Late, Late Show"

A MUSICAL EDUCATION IN 1001 STEPS - PT 8

Buddy Holly & The Crickets - The Chirping Crickets (1957)

Odd that Buddy Holly should choose to name his band The Crickets when his vocal style doesn't so much sound like "chirping" as a kind of gulping hiccup-yodel. Not that I mind. I'm just saying. If nothing else, Holly was probably the world's most astute creator of ear-worms - songs that, once you've heard them, you can't dislodge from your head no matter how hard you try. "Peggy Sue", "That'll Be The Day", "Oh Boy"... take your pick.

The original album featured 12 songs clocking in at under 26 minutes. The version I downloaded has 4 extra tracks added on - all covers, I think - and, to be honest, they're the ones I was most impressed with. As a survivor of the borderline pathological 50's nostalgia boom of the 1970s, most of Holly's oeuvre is as familiar to me as the taste of my own thumb, and I'm a firm believer in that old idiom about familiarity breeding contempt.

I should probably point out that I do appreciate the immeasurable influence Buddy Holly's take on rock and roll as a genre unto itself had on literally everyone who came after. Even without that fateful, legend-making winter's night plane crash in Clear Lake, Iowa - a mere 18 months into his career - he still would have deserved that chart-topping shout-out from Weezer back in '94. Although which Saint's grave he pissed on to deserve the hideous ignominy of being portrayed by Gary Busey in his biopic - or having Don McLean write that wretched song about him - I have yet to figure out. "American Pie" my fat, white ass.

Had I heard it before? 95% of it.
Did I like it then? Rockabilly has never really turned my crank.
Do I like it now? Kind of.
Am I keeping it? Only the Standout Tracks.
Standout Tracks? "Oh Boy", "Not Fade Away", "That'll Be The Day", "It's So Easy"

A MUSICAL EDUCATION IN 1001 STEPS - PT 7

Frank Sinatra - Songs for Swingin' Lovers! (1957)

A repeat appearance in this project's artistic line-up so early in the proceedings would have to come from a real heavyweight, and what do you know? It does. Old Blue Eyes is back - along with legendary arranger Nelson Riddle - for what The Book calls "day following night", referring to the happier, snappier tone of the selections here compared to the more reflective, somber feel of the picks from In The Wee Small Hours. Is the tumbler of bourbon half full or half empty? It all depends on whether you're drinking or pouring. On Songs for Swingin' Lovers!, Sinatra is definitely pouring, and he's pouring it on thick. The Rat Pack's Chairman of the Board is in full-on swagger mode here, and once again he displays an almost supernatural control over his instrument. 

Still, despite all the bounce and swing, there remains an undeniable darkness. This is, I suspect, partly a by-product of a half-century of social evolution - the casual misogyny occasionally catches today's sensitive listener off guard - and partly due to the fact that Frank was kind of a nasty piece of work in real life. You can almost picture him forcing Norman Fell to get down on his hands and knees to spit-shine his patent-leather Mary Janes in the lobby of The Sands, or retiring to the Jungle Room after his umpteenth triumphant gig to while away the night banging cocktail waitresses two at a time while Joey Bishop and Peter Lawford wait patiently in an adjoining suite for a chance at sloppy seconds. 

Here is a man who spends most of Under My Skin essentially telling his lover that he's constantly trying to figure out ways to dump her, but the pussy is just too damn good. In Makin' Whoopie, you can almost hear the contempt dripping from Frank's lips as he details the countless "humiliations" the Average Joe has to put up with just to get a little tail. The idea that some men would actually stoop to doing dishes is literally beyond Triumphant Frank's ability to comprehend. He even manages to make Anything Goes - originally an ironic ode to prudery - sound like an aggressive invitation to anal sex. "Bite the pillow, doll-face... it's going in dry!"

Then again, maybe that's what makes Somber Frank so potent. Later in his career, when he rumbled out the immortal words: "Regrets, I've had a few..." we knew exactly what he was talking about.

Had I heard it before? A few of the songs were new to me.

Did I like it before? Again, it would be truer to say that I didn't NOT like it.

Do I like it now? I appreciate Sinatra's gifts a lot more now, but I prefer him in a more reflective mood.

Am I keeping it? Only the Standout Tracks.

Standout tracks? "You Make Me Feel So Young", You're Getting to be a Habit With Me", "Too Marvelous for Words", "Pennies From Heaven", "I've Got You Under My Skin", "Anything Goes", "How About You?"

STEVE DITKO, AYN RAND, OBJECTIVISM AND SQUIRREL GIRL

This is a guest post by our old pal CT! - YOPJ

So as you may be aware, Squirrel Girl – everyone’s favorite not-quite-superhero – gets her own solo cover story in New Avengers #15 this month. When it comes to Squirrel Girl, people (people who've heard of her, anyway) tend to fall into two camps: there’s the nerd-raging fanboys who refuse to acknowledge her as anything more than a poorly told joke, and there’s the people who love her (more or less) BECAUSE she’s a poorly told joke. She’s been used sparingly in her almost two decades of existence, and when she is, it’s almost always for comedic effect. There’s nothing wrong with that; it is, in fact, part and parcel of the very character of Squirrel Girl. But if you take a moment and look harder at her, you find a series of wonderful contradictions that point to a vastly underrated–and underused–character...

Continued at CT's LUDICROUS SPEED blog!

A MUSICAL EDUCATION IN 1001 STEPS - PART 6

Duke Ellington - Ellington at Newport (1956)

Whenever I listen to Duke Ellington's music, two stories immediately come to mind. First, there's the one about how he and his band used to avoid hassles while performing throughout the segregated South by traveling in Duke's lavishly appointed private railway car. That's absolute class in a frosted champagne glass. The second is from Frank Zappa's The Real Frank Zappa Book, and, unfortunately, it isn't anywhere near as grand. Zappa tells about being backstage at some hastily thrown-together festival in Miami, '69, where he witnessed Duke pleading with one of the promoter's flunkies for a ten dollar advance - a pitiful sight that prompted Zappa to disband The Mothers right then and there. "If Duke Ellington had to beg some George Wein assistant backstage for ten bucks, what the fuck was I doing with a ten-piece band, trying to play rock and roll?" Thankfully, Ellington at Newport chronicles a happier, more prosperous point in his multifarious narrative. Here is an album that showcases the man and his band at their magnificent best, testament to the natural aristocracy that transformed this musical Midas from "Edward" to "Duke" at the tender age of seven. From the very first days of the Harlem Renaissance at the fabled Cotton Club, through the birth of radio orchestras and soundtracks for Hollywood Golden Age films, through world-conquering tours with an ever-growing band that showcased some of the brightest lights in American music - a roster of Greats with a capital G - Duke's story simply cannot be summed up in a space like this. Suffice it to say that Ellington at Newport captures one of the finest incarnations of Duke's revolving band, and the decision to keep all the between-song chatter makes you feel like you're sitting there in the rain with an audience so appreciative, they occasionally come close to rioting. No wonder this was Duke's best-selling LP. A masterpiece from an artist who lived his life as an ongoing masterpiece, it is more than a mere pleasure to hear this music today... it is a privilege that should not be taken lightly.

Had I heard it before? I'm ashamed to say that this is the first time I've listened to this recording straight through.

Do I like it? Hell yes.
Am I keeping it? It would be so very wrong not to.
Standout Tracks? Every cut is a classic, and the between-song chatter only adds to the charm.

INSANE WOMEN WE HAVE KNOWN + LOVED - A BASIL PAPADEMOS GUEST POST

SUMMER in Toronto is drawing to a close. I can feel it mostly while riding my motorcycle, which is the best barometer of changing weather. There are really only a few nights during the summer when you can ride at seriously high speeds in just a t-shirt and jeans and not begin to feel cold, those few nights when the rushing wind feels hot and sultry no matter how fast you're going. And those are the best moments for the kinds of motorcycles I love; Japanese superbikes of a certain vintage that are subtle but sure-footed and aggressive, full of raw and completely unnecessary power, beautiful of line and howl like a banshee… sorta like... well, this isn't the place for that...

Okay, so all this means more sleep lately, which means more waking early, which means more chance to practice one of writing’s most fundamental tenets, the ol’ A.I.C. - Ass In Chair… Speaking of which, thanks to AL C for reminding of all that.

So I’ve been thinking about dialogue lately, a story made almost exclusively of dialogue - sort of like theatre but not. How do you get across references common to say two people in a conversation? They’re not going to explain everything for the benefit of the reader. I’ve been working on this idea while writing a trio of short things that when put together are called Insane Women We Have Known + Loved.

Let’s give Part 1 a shot and see how it rolls…

I run into a guy called I used to know, Mitch Farrango. Hadn’t seen him in decades - literally. Something about drying out over night in the Barrie bucket, late summer during the late ‘90’s, back when Sauble Beach was a big hang-out.
“What you been up to, Mitch?”
“Been making time with this woman I used to know and met again not long ago. I think you probably knew her. Percy.”
“Percy?”
“Persephone.”
“Jesus…”
“Exactly.”
“She Greek?”
“No, you kidding?...

To read the rest, go to: Insane Women Women We Have Known + Loved - Part 1

And as an added bonus, here's a song to get your back-end moving again after a session of Ass In Chair... "I'm Like a Brand New Bitch" by Anjulie. She sang it at the recent Pride event in Toronto. Pretty great stuff.

A MUSICAL EDUCATION IN 1001 STEPS - PT 5

Fats Domino - This Is Fats (1957)

New Orleans native Fats Domino was the first of many RnB/rock crossover artists to use the tried-and-true “obesity insult plus game piece” motif in naming himself. He was followed, of course, by the likes of Chubby Checker, Tubby Leggo, Lardass Jenga and the immortal Tubaguts McLincolnlog. I joke, of course. But I joke for a reason. I joke because, to be honest with you, I’m really not feeling this one. It’s nice and all, but so far, This Is Fats is the first album on The List that feels like a museum piece. Fats’ voice is pleasant enough, but there’s something just a little too simple about a lot of the songs here. I’m sure some will find this refreshing, but I find it uninteresting. Ah… here’s an exception. “Blue Monday” has an urgency, both in Fats’ delivery and in the robust instrumental attack. The mix is muscular, and as Fats reels off the days of the week – and how each one is shitty in its own special way – it comes across. Wait a minute… “So Long” is also pretty darn good. Maybe I judged this one too soon (I write these reviews as I listen, just FYI). Damn! “La La” is pretty good, too! There’s nothing of the virtuoso in any of these songs, but they chug along nicely and have a certain malt shop time-warp appeal that is undeniable. Good stuff.

Had I heard it before? Some, but a surprising amount was new to me.
Did I like it before? I’d say I didn’t NOT like it.
Do I like it now? Some of the songs, yes.
Am I keeping it? Only the Standout Tracks, mostly for mix-discs I’m making for my mom and older in-laws.
Standout Tracks? “Blue Monday”, “So Long”, “La La”, “You Done Me Wrong”, “Reeling And Rocking”

A MUSICAL EDUCATION IN 1001 STEPS - PART 4

Louis Prima - The WILDEST! (1956)

"The Book" says Louis Prima was frequently dismissed as an Italian Louis Armstrong impersonator early on in his career, which I guess makes a certain kind of sense. Their voices share a playful familiarity, the way they interact with the band, the audience... and they both share the ability to juggle verbal flubs into memorable musical moments. But calling Prima a Satchmo rip-off is definitely going way overboard. Some of the selections here - "Buona Sera" for example - have a certain mob movie flavor that doesn't appeal to me, personally. However, there can be no denying the sheer elemental ferocity of "Jump, Jive an' Wail", which has to rank up there with the Benny Goodman Orchestra's "Sing, Sing, Sing" as the piece of music most capable of causing involuntary skeleto-muscular spasms in anyone not currently in a coma... or deaf. Also, I vividly remember my parents dancing to that particular song at a Chamber of Commerce Christmas party once when I was, like, six years old. Man, those two could cut a rug to ribbons!


Had I heard it before? Roughly half the songs were perfectly familiar. A few were new to me. 
Did I like it before? What's not to like? 
Do I like it now? It's very enjoyable music... very easy to appreciate. 
Am I keeping it? Only the standout tracks. 
Standout Tracks? "Jump, Jive an' Wail", "Oh Marie", "Night Train"

AN INVITATION TO LISTEN ALONG WITH YER OLD PAL JERKY

All hail Radio3Net.ro for putting up all 1001 albums from The Book yer old pal Jerky is using to broaden his musical horizons, expand his musical vocabulary, enrich his musical appreciation and otherwise adverb his musical nouns, as all the best sayings go. So please, by all means, feel free to listen along with yer old pal and kick in some opinions and reflections of your own. I would truly, honestly love for this to turn into an open dialogue of sorts. I'm listening to the Louis Prima album at #4 right now, so we've still got one helluva long way to go. So come on! Why not hop in while the hopping's good? See you in the funny pages! - YOPJ

A MUSICAL EDUCATION IN 1001 STEPS - PT 3

Louvin Brothers - Tragic Songs Of Life (1956)

The Book calls this release “one of Country’s essential bedrock releases”. As I sit here letting the Louvins’ sweet harmonies wash over the gyri and seep into the sulci of my brain, be-numbed and struck mute by overpowering sense-memories throwing me back, back, back... I find myself riding shotgun by my father’s side in his filth-caked pick-up truck, sitting on blueprints for part of a neighboring village's sewer system, my feet parked among tools and boxes and papers, the space between the back of the bench-style seat and the cold metal behind it stuffed to the bursting with more tools, manuals, plans, contracts and papers of all kinds, the air blowing cold and wet through our open windows – we both liked the windows down, unless it was incredibly cold – the smell of whatever New Brunswick season it might be rushing and swirling all around us, the radio on one of the few AM station that came in clearly – in the day when Country music really was “country” music, even in French – my dad’s beautiful, gruff voice harmonizing in his distinctive falsetto… I’m sorry, where was I?

Had I heard it before? In a manner of speaking, I grew up on it.
Did I like it before? “Like” is not the word I would use.
Do I like it now? “Like” is still not the word I would use.
Am I keeping it? Not sure yet.
Why Not? It’s just too much. Those harmonies and waltz tempos and mandolins make me beyond sad. These songs don’t inspire… they stupefy.
Standout Tracks? They’re all equally powerful. You can tell Kurt Cobain was a really big fan… and why.

A MUSICAL EDUCATION IN 1001 STEPS - PT 2

Elvis Presley - Elvis Presley (1956)

Not one of the 12 songs on this album – assembled from various disparate sessions, some from Sun and some not – reaches the 3 minute mark, and quite a few clock in under 2. Yes, yes, I know… he didn’t write his own songs. He borrowed 90 percent of his swagger from Black musicians who never got their due. He didn't invent anything. I know. We all know. But that doesn't change the fact that his once-in-a-lifetime voice – so limber, so supple, so inexplicably soulful – was coming out of that once-in-a-lifetime face – almost Luciferian in its lush, ambi-sexual appeal. There is only the slightest foreshadowing of the Las Vegas Golgotha to come on these early cuts - hindsight about the mythopoeic circumstances surrounding the King's birth having forever scarred all who've heard The Bad Seeds' perfect, unforgettable song Tupelo. For the most part, though, this album is just pure, balls-to-the-wall American rock-and-roll. Now, with over half a century having passed since it's release, you can almost understand what the old folks were so worried about.

Had I heard it before? Duh.

Did I like it before? Yes.
Do I like it now? Yes.
Am I keeping it? Yes.
Standout Tracks? I Got a Woman, Tutti Frutti, Blue Moon, Money Honey.

A MUSICAL EDUCATION IN 1001 STEPS - PT 1

Thus begins a new side-project!

Yer old pal Jerky was recently in the company of some wonderful friends both old and new, many of whom are musicologically-inclined. Their knowledgeable talk got me to feeling rather timid about my own, comparatively paltry knowledge of popular music - both historically and perhaps more especially in regards to more recent releases and bands, some of which my friends with “good ears” assure me are “essential”, despite the fact that I’d never even heard of them before, much less heard them.

And so, using the book 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die (Robert Dimery, General Editor) as my starting block - and, at 500 pages, it can certainly serve as one - I am endeavoring to rectify this deficiency in my learning. I have acquired a copy of the book, and have begun compiling copies of all the music found therein. This is not a difficult thing to do, as some enterprising soul has taken it upon himself to transfer all 1001 CDs into MP3s and put them up in chunks of 25 or so as torrents for thieves like you and me to download.

Some of the albums I already own, or have owned, legally, with full dues, fees and royalties making their way to all and sundry via the usual channels.

I intend to go through the list chronologically – the way it was helpfully compiled – and write a few thoughts about each of the picks as they come to me, if and when they do. I will also offer up my own patented YOPJ-meter score which, when the list is viewed as a whole, should help you know whether or not you’ll like a particular album, using our comparative musical tastes as a barometer. If I don’t like a bunch of stuff that you simply adore, then it’s a fair bet that you’ll enjoy the discs that I pan, depending. For instance, I am profoundly suspicious of almost all punk rock, and have a deep, abiding, almost perverse love for early 70's prog. So caveat lector.

That’s enough introduction to this exercise. Let’s begin at the beginning, shall we, with Old Blue Eyes, himself…

Frank Sinatra - In The Wee Small Hours (1955)

Is this the first “concept album”? The preface to 1000 AYMHBYD says so, but aside from this being as relaxed and smoky a collection of late night ballads as you’re likely to find anywhere, I’m having trouble seeing it. Later politics aside, I've always enjoyed Sinatra’s “guinea charm and olive oil voice” to steal a line from Jack Woltz, and the only word you can safely use to describe the man's phrasing is perfect. The same goes for Nelson Riddle’s arrangements for this album full of odes, laments and tonics to, of and for late night loneliness. It is legendary for a reason. It sounds magnificent, with gorgeous, lush orchestration, amazing fidelity, a warmth and richness that comes through even as Satanic MP3s. I can't imagine how awesome this platter would have sounded spinning on some swinging Playboy-subscriber's thousand-dollar turntable in the early days of Mutually Assured Destruction... dropping the needle on "Ill Wind" during the Cuban Missile Crisis, that truly must have been a real stone gas, man. Dark groovy, thick as gravy.

Had I heard it before? Yes, but never all packed together like this. It makes for a potent collection.
Did I like it before? Yes.
Do I like it now? Now, more than ever. And I think that, as I grow older and gather more tragedies and failures – as I inevitably will – these songs will only speak to me with greater and more devastating force.
Am I keeping it? Yes, but I will be deploying it sparingly and with caution. I’ll keep it around like a bottle of fine, aged scotch… in a cabinet, hidden away, only to be taken out for epochal personal catastrophes and/or epic melancholy moods.
Standout Tracks? Mood Indigo, Glad To Be Unhappy, Ill Wind, Can't We Be Friends... Not a stinker in the bunch, actually.