My oldest son, Austin, turned 11 today. I took him out of school early, bought him some sushi for lunch, we spent some time at the bookstore, watched together as his younger brother and sister played music in a talent show (which, as you might imagine from an elementary school, was a little short of actual talent). My first baby is going on teenager, has grown up a lot. We have conversations; he’s a bright, bright kid, with a winning smile.

So, as I’m working on my 1000 Things projects for CBS, he listens in and tell me he likes these songs.

The Byrds – Mr. Tambourine Man
Elton John – Rocket Man

I’ve never met Rickie Lee Jones, have never seen her in concert, don’t recall having read an interview with her. But, I’ve heard the story that she walked offstage in a huff once, angry that something wasn’t to her liking. The teller of the story mentioned that it happened at [gasp!] a charity concert! Have you ever…? Since that time, I’m held in my mind that Rickie Lee Jones is “difficult” and “full of herself”.

Interesting, isn’t it, that I would make such a judgment based on the hearsay of someone else with no immediate experience of my own and, really, with no direct knowledge of RLJ? It’s like looking at a picture of a model in a magazine and saying, “she’s beautiful,” when, in fact, all I know is that she takes a beautiful picture.

(Oh yeah: what if she is full of herself? So am I — and I can’t sing or write songs.)

Rickie Lee Jones – Jolie Jolie

I’ve been going through a rough patch in my life. Some of my confidants point to the grave condition of the world economy and suggest I’m not the only one. True enough, but what fears I have around my wallet probably run deeper than that. Nothing inspires introspection more than financial struggles (and then I get to see what the fear really is all about).

Jimmie Dale Gilmore – My Mind Has A Mind of It’s Own

I sometimes see a picture of Tom Waits in my mind, in a dusty old house with dirt floors and newspapers over the windows, wearing a Mule Variations t-shirt and a porkpie hat, counting $100 bills out of a worn suitcase. Above his head is a cartoon balloon of him saying: “Mule variations my ass. I bang on a tin pipe, give it a title and these suckers buy it every time.”

Tom Waits – Big In Japan

At other times, I think he’s a genius.

Tom Waits – Picture In A Frame

My 10-year old pointed out this morning that “these guys sound like Trampled By Turtles…”. Well, something like that.

The Byrds – You Ain’t Goin’ Nowhere

If I could be someone else — and I have to admit, there are times when I’d really like to be someone else — I think I’d like to be Junior Brown. Because Junior is a human being he likely has his own bag of hammers that he carries around with him, ball peens he can use to pound out his own brand of existential problems. But, all things being equal beyond that, I wish I could play guitar like him. My kids, operating on a much less emotionally twisted level, simply think this is a fun song.

Junior Brown – Highway Patrol

Namaste all you sentient beings. Namaste.
_/\_
Music Junkie

The picture above was drawn by my 6-year old daughter. I call it That’s What I Was Thinking. I don’t know what she calls it…

When I die, I want my tombstone inscribed with the following epitaph:

“Herein lays a man a-rest, nothing left to do/For what killed him was his lovely wife, she bit off more than he could chew.”

It seems I’m infected with the same curse of blind ambition as my lovely red-headed wonder-wife: this Hal Blaine series has taken on a life of it’s own. This is the 3rd post on him and we’re just now covering the year nineteen sixty-five.

I’ll venture to say that never in the history of the twentieth century did music and politics so clearly mirror each other than in ‘65.

This kit of a dozen songs featuring Hal Blaine shows us two different versions of America as seen through pop music. On one hand, we have traditional conservatism brought forth by the likes of Jay and The Americans and Mel Carter, over-the-top pop groups with Spector-like arrangements who sounded old even in their own time.

At the other end of the spectrum, we heard marching drums and protest songs, embodied by The Byrds and Barry McGuire, portents of what is now considered ‘normal liberalism’. In between, The Beach Boys (though becoming more experimental) were California past and present while Johnny Rivers started showing us a little about what SoCal rock was going to look like in the 1970′

Jay and The Americans – Cara Mia (#4)

No one was more over the top than Jay And The Americans and nothing I remember hearing from them was farther over-the-top than ‘Cara Mia’. (This was actually sung by David Blatt who, by this time, had replaced the original ‘Jay’ (John Traynor) as the lead singer). Like Connie Francis’ version of ‘Mama’, we hear again how much pop was co-opted from other sources (like Italian opera, strangely enough). If you listen closely to what Blaine’s doing on this song, you recognize a march-like drum line that’s very similar to what he plays in the protest songs.

The Vogues – You’re The One (#4)

The Vogues were a crazy band. Not crazy in the Ozzy Osbourne sense but more in the Kinks-Meets-Gary-Puckett sense. They did one of the most bombastic pop songs of all time (“Turn Around, Look At Me”) and one of the swinging-est pop tunes of all time (“Five O’Clock World”). With “You’re The One,” we get one part Johnny Horton (the guitar opening), one part Zombies (the lead vocal) and one part Jay And The Americans (the harmonies). Behind it all, Blaine gives us a delicate semi-surf beat, complete with jangly ride cymbal and sixteenths on the fours. Crazy, man!

Mel Carter – Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss me (#8)

Could it be that Mel Carter is actually David Blatt’s long lost twin? Sounds that way. To truly appreciate this song, I have to block out Carter and the Elvis-Meets-Mitch-Miller backing vocals and hear the brilliance of the orchestra arrangement and reverb-laden snare drum. Reference Barry Manilow for an even greater use of this technique.

Gary Lewis And The Playboys – This Diamond Ring (#1); Count Me In (#2); Save Your Heart For Me (#2) and Everybody Loves A Clown (#4)

What I love about Gary Lewis (besides the fact that he was Jerry Lewis’ kid and, seemingly, unembarrassed by that fact) is the band’s ability to sound like everyone else who was popular at the time (and some who yet to be popular): Roger Miller, Herman’s Hermit’s, Leo Sayer. You name it, they copped it. He was one of the first pop stars of the TV generation, laying the path for The Monkees and The Partridge Family, two others who were supported by Hal Blaine. Great tympani part on ‘This Diamond Ring’ (gives it that Hawaii 5-0 surf vibe); I believe that’s Leon Russell (a sometime member of ‘The Wrecking Crew’) playing piano on ‘Count Me In’.

The Beach Boys – California Girls (#3) and Help Me, Rhonda (#1)

Even though he was still kicking out Top 40 surf anthems in 1965, it was clear the end of the innocence was coming for Brian Wilson. ‘Pet Sounds’ (which also featured Blaine) was just around the corner and things were getting more experimental. I’m still not sure what the fade-in/fade-out thing in ‘Rhonda’ was all about but I remember banging out the drum pattern to ‘California Girls’ on my bed more than a few times (with pillows as tom-toms). I don’t know what it is (the tempo, the key, the harmonies) but there’s a fatigued sense of melancholy about ‘California Girls,’ with the march tempo in the chorus that says pop music is taking a turn from which it’ll never return. The next year, with ‘Pet Sounds,’ bore that out.

The Byrds – Mr. Tambourine Man (#1) and Barry McGuire – Eve of Destruction (#1)

This version of MTM, from their pre-Flyte album, sounds much different from the one we’re used to hearing on the radio. We’re marching off to war, on the eve of destruction.