The great lost band of the 90's, The Gits never made a great album and were gone, due to tragic circumstances, long before they had a chance. But their music was strong, deeper-rooted than any other punkoid cause celebre of their time, and at its best excellent.
They came out of Seattle by way of Ohio in the early 90's. It would be easy enough to lump them with the grunge movement, but also unfair. Their sound was a lot closer to the post-hardcore thrashing of many early 80's underground outfits - Black Flag, The Descendents, countless others. Propulsive, power chord-driven rock (there were few flash licks and no guitar solos) with a lead singer screaming over the top. Later they incorporated the Nirvana like "spare bass-and-drum grooves and shrill bursts of screaming guitar and vocals" approach as well.
This would not make them special, in and of itself. In fact, by `91-92 when these records were coming out, it made them something of a throwback. But, like the early Husker Du and Soul Asylum and Social Distortion albums, there was something else going on here. Something more interesting.
The secret weapons was front-woman Mia Zapata, a gal from Louisville, Kentucky who"learned how to play the guitar and the piano by age nine, and influenced by punk rock as well as jazz, blues and R&B singers such as Bessie Smith, Billie Holiday, Jimmy Reed, Ray Charles, Hank Williams and Sam Cooke" (wiki).
Those are surprising influences for a Seattle grunge-ster. More importantly, they prove she was no such thing. Zapata wrote poetic lyrics about men, women, sex, and the lives and experiences of young people living on a certain edge. She was not babe-a-licious, and her voice, while strong, was not overpowering. But her songwriting voice was one of the strongest of her generation, and she was a remarkable stage presence.
Had she lived, would she have become one of the great women rockers? Or another letdown like Maria McKee? None can say. But the legacy they left was a promising one.
(from Burke's official on-line bio)
At a time when rock and roll was in its infancy and R&B was just starting to get its groove on, Solomon Burke burst onto the scene, shattered the cultural barriers of the time, scored a massive hit with “Just Out Of Reach (Of My Two Empty Arms)” and quickly redefined the way the world would think about music. Conquering hearts, moving hips and electrifying fans in ways no one thought possible, the Philadelphia born legend’s soul-stirring smashes and charismatic presence captured the imagination of young people like no one else of his era. Dubbed by legendary Atlantic Records producer Jerry Wexler as “the best soul singer of all time,” Burke, a Rock and Roll Hall of Famer since 2001, is more than simply a pioneering American legend from another time and place--he is an innovator whose timeless music spans generations and has inspired millions of fans and hundreds of recording artists across the decades.
According to Tim Newby: "Despite the endless parade of fans and praise, Burke always seemed to be two steps ahead or one step behind his contemporaries. While he was always at the forefront of the Soul movement, paving the way for a slew of singers who followed in his large wake, he never had that one timeless hit like so many others of the time that would forever endear him to our memories. So many of his peers of the time had that one huge mega-hit that would stamp them as eternal legends, and while Burke came close, he never found that one everlasting song. He became more known for his inspiration on other musicians than for his music. He is often criminally overlooked by the casual fan".
Neil Portnow, President/CEO of The Recording Academy, praised Burke soon after his death: "GRAMMY-winning soul singer Solomon Burke was revered as one of music’s greatest vocalists and a pioneer of the genre. A deeply spiritual man, his love and passion for his craft kept him touring and performing to sold-out audiences right up to his final days. Few artists have had careers as long, rich and influential as his, and he leaves a larger-than-life legacy as powerful and soulful as he was. The music industry has lost one of its most distinctive voices"
By Phil Gallo:
In a 1983 essay for the album "Soul Alive!," writer Peter Guralnick described Solomon Burke as "the most compelling secular preacher of them all," proposing that Burke's talents were superior to all other soul singers.
Burke did not take that compliment lightly. He consistently paid tribute to his peers by covering the songs of Sam Cooke, Otis Redding and Ray Charles at his concerts, making it clear that he was part of an inspiring group came from the same roots of country, gospel, pop and R&B.
Burke died Oct. 10 at the age of 70 in Amsterdam, where he had flown to perform. He lived in Los Angeles.
A native of Philadelphia with considerable amount of gospel experience before he went secular, Burke distinguished himself in the early '60s by fusing country with his R&B style. He had a substantial influence on the Rolling Stones as well as Bruce Springsteen, Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes. In the late 1970s, the Blues Brothers' had America singing his song "Everybody Needs Somebody to Love."
In 2002, he recorded one of that year's finest albums, "Don't Give Up On Me," which featured songs from Elvis Costello, Tom Waits and Nick Lowe. But with no top 20 hits, Burke remained a cult artist from the 1970s up through his last album, "Nothing's Impossible," released earlier this year.
15+ years ago, I wrote an impassioned defense of The Rolling Stones, which I sent to the online music mag Perfect Sound Forever, and which they forthwith published (thanks, Jason). I've gotten a lot of e-mails about that piece over the years. When I started this blog, I just re-posted the piece. But, since then, I've decided to revisit - to see how I feel about it 15 years later. But before I even start, I should note that I still stand behind every word I said. 15 years later, The Stones remain in the same oddball position. To young pop music fans, they're beyond irrelevant - might as well not even exist, never have existed. To hip rock fans and critics, they're revolting - a disgusting cadre of decrepit old men trying to prove their virility, trading in nostalgia, old-fashioned (i.e. blues-based) music, wallowing in their absurdly filthy material riches which they've enjoyed their entire adult lives, and milking a long-burned-out legend by playing to the nostalgia of aging baby boomers who keep shelling out ever bigger-and-bigger fees for one last chance to relive past glories. Plus they're ugly. On the other hand - they're still probably the most popular, celebrated, richest, and most profitable rock band in the world (if they're not the most, they're damn close), can collect outrageous and astronomical ticket and event prices (a pay-per-view broadcast of their most recent Madison Square Garden gig goes for $40). And they still hold the fascination of a broad swath of the public. Two feature films in five years. Keef's memoir hit the best seller lists instantly. Let the critics carp and the wags joke - the Stones can cry all the way to the bank. Yet again. So do I pity them? No, not at all. But I do feel sorry for the haters. Oh hey, everyone's entitled. If you just plain don't like the Stones music, that's no shame. Plenty of respected artistes I can't get behind. Crossing someone off the list because they just don't do it for you is just fine. But if I do have a point besides the one on top of my head, it's to not let your prejudices blind you. They're old? Yeah - so? They're past their prime? Hell yes - they peaked in the early 70's, for crying out loud! They're trading on nostalgia and past glories? Yepper. So does every act with more than a half-dozen albums behind them who're still touring. They don't need the money? Agreed, and again, so? Too expensive? No argument - but someone's willing to, and they're charging what the market will bear. They're disgustingly rich? No doubt - don't you wish you were? What is it about the Stones, anyway, that makes them so special to those of us who worship at the Temple of the Lapping Tongue? I thought about this as I was trying to sleep last night. There are those who would argue that we are merely reacting to a legend, a myth. Either trying to hold on to the 60's rock era and thus our youth (if we're old enough), or trying to grab hold of a mythic rock era we missed out on (if we're young enough). That we've simply accepted the concept of the Stones as The Greatest Rock`n'Roll Band In The World instead of questioning it or, more importantly, finding newer artistes to dethrone them. They have it wrong. If I was to break it into simple, clinical terms, I would put it this way: there is a certain type of music/rock geek (such as myself) and we tend to put a high premium on certain things in rock and roll - things we want to hear if we're to consider it "good," much less "great", rock and roll.
Those things include (but may not be limited to): electric guitars, loud bass and drums. Chicago and Delta blues (esp. electrified). Soul music. Ringing, melodic power chords (as in, say The Who) and roaring, noisy power chords (as in say most punk rock - which is sometimes melodic too, of course). Strong, passionate singing - a conventionally "good" singing voice is not required. Musicianship that is also passionate and rough, but may be idiosyncratic or very limited - again, virtuosity not required. Good, literate lyrics that say a little something, hopefully, and in an interesting way. Grit and dirt and noise. Black funk. The ability to pull off a convincing ballad. Pure noise for noise's sake. Explicit and daring sexual content. Sounding a little (or a lot) drunk and/or stoned. Rebelliousness. A sense that the artists are real, tough, maybe even a little dangerous. Have I just described most of the most lionized, and beloved, tough rock and roll bands? Have I just described the Stones to T? The Stooges, The Who, The Pistols, The Clash, The Replacements - they all had some or most of the above. The Stones had, and (for the most part, have) all of it. And they hold it like a weapon which, at their best, they wield with an expertise that's breathtaking, and, at their worst, with a haphazard sense of aim which still allows them to hit more than they miss. Get the picture. They couldn't be more perfect for fans like me if they'd been made to order. And this is why we find ourselves drawn to their music, again and again, even when they're sucking ass. Because even when they're sucking ass, they make the kind of music we like, and they make it perfectly. My main impetus for sticking up for the Stones back in `97 was that their then-latest release, Bridges To Babylon, was a quite decent album, as was its predecessor, Voodoo Lounge. Now, I would not argue that either of these scaled the heights of any of their masterworks (pretty much everything they did between roughly 1964 and 1972 - Exile, of course). But I would argue that they were very respectable albums and a match for any of the post-Exile-to-Some Girls releases of the 70's (all of which are underrated and home to several great songs each), and better than anything post Some Girls-to-Steel Wheels. Flat out - if those albums had been released under another name, with nothing to link them to the Stones, hipsters who like gritty rock and roll would hail them as mini-classics.
In fact, let's look at that catalog, because that's one thing that has changed for me over the years - I've come to appreciate the post-Exile period of the Stones a lot more than I used to. I just don't subscribe to the notion that an artist is only as good as his last album, or last twenty or thirty albums. I still rate Rod Stewart a great, or at least a former great, because of his first handful of solo albums and work with the Faces. Thirty-plus years of dreck (and it's all dreck) don't diminish the power of those finer moments. And the Stones have a much richer catalog than Rod. So, post-Exile, you've got Goat's Head Soup - messy, sloppy, icky big-hit soft-rock ballad ("Angie"); but you've still got "Winter" (awesome, Astral Weeks via the Stones), "Heartbreaker," "Dancing With Mr. D" (classic Stones moves), "Silver Train", "Star Star" (solid Chuck Berry raunch and the last one's dirty, too), "Coming Down Again" (Keef on a ballad, yay!) and "Can You Hear the Music" (stoned jam - sounds good when you're high). A big come-down from previous but still a good album in its own right. You've got It's Only Rock and Roll - great Temptations cover, classic single, two great ballads ("Till The Next Goodbye," "Time Waits For No One" - a genuine departure for them, too), couple more slices of by-the-book-but-hey-its-a-good-book Stones ("Dance Little Sister," "If You Can't Rock Me"), a reggae workout I like ("Luxury"), and a bunch of filler. A weak album with several very respectable highlights. Let's put it this way - you could take the best half of each of those two and make one excellent, first-rate Stones album out of them. Okay, Black and Blue's a step down. One classic: "Hand Of Fate" (which somehow evokes Warren Zevon
to me - the same way Eddie Money's "Gimme Some Water" always did). But "Crazy Mama" is serviceable, and I like the reggae groove on "Cherry Oh Baby," the soul groove on "Melody," and I have a serious weak spot for "Hey Negrita" (gnarly riff and I like Mick's outfit in the video). A letdown but still has its charms. Most people don't dispute that Some Girls is first-rate all the way (it is). That's the 70's down. The 80's? Emotional Rescue - mostly a turd but I like the rockers "Let Me Go" (mini-classic), "Where The Boys Go" and "Summer Romance" - nice snotty rockers of the Ron Wood-era Stones (which we are now in with this and Girls). I like "Indian Girl" too cuz it's funny. Tattoo You - most beautiful sleeve of any Stones album. Contents - mostly just grooves, almost like Keith's solo albums. Some good ones. "Little T&A" is a mini-classic. I like "Tops," "Heaven", "No Use In Crying," "Slave." Could live the rest of my life happily without ever hearing "Start Me Up" again. Undercover - hated it when it came out - but now? I like the sleazy cover (it suits them, after all). "Undercover of the Night" is a gem - the Stones tackle Jackson/Prince style funk and make it their own. The video's a classic. The rest of the highlights are all grooves - but good ones ("Too Much Blood" [funny], "Tie You Up," "Pretty Beat Up"). Dirty Work - "One Hit", "Fight", "Had It With You" - good nasty Stones rockers. Nice slinky groove on "Harlem Shuffle." I like Keef's ballad "Sleep" (I usually like Keef's ballads) and "Too Rude." You can trash the rest. Steel Wheels - misfire. I like "Mixed Emotions", "Blinded By Love" (nice ballad) and the Tom Waits-y "Break the Spell" and hate the rest. Not a good decade for the Stones, but still enough fodder for an a very listenable compilation. And I already talked about their 90's albums (note I'm ignoring live albums etc). I should mention I like Mick's Wandering Spirit album very much as well - it's the best Stones album the Stones never made. All of that is a pretty respectable showing for a band that's past it's prime. Maybe it only shows how far they had to fall. But just that whole post-Exile phase from 1972 to 1997 is a body of work with an awful lot of highlights - more than many other artists on this blog could muster - and some of those artists are among my very favorites.
Add to that their entire 60's catalog (yes, that includes Satanic Majesties, which is far from awful) and everything up through Exile. Top that, pal. It's the sheer volume of good music they've cranked out over the years that blows me away, especially considering their peak period only covers 1/5 of their career. Add to that their critical, definitive role in setting in stone the image of the badass rock band, the punk band, the defiant rebel band - bitch all you want kids - they pissed against the gas station wall first; their critical, definitive role in bringing the blues to a wider audience (those who argue that they merely ripped off black blues artists ignore how much they, along with Clapton, et al helped spread the gospel of same black blues artists - I got into Howlin' Wolf because of the Stones - and I bet you did, too) and the simple fact that, as I wrote in `97: THEY BROUGHT IT ALL BACK HOME Because you see, rock`n'roll was never just the blues. It was the mating of blues and r&b AND country music AND gospel AND latin music AND everything else that happened to be floating around at the time. For all their claims of r&b authenticity, Mick and Keith and the rest all had been inspired by Elvis, and Gene Vincent, and Bill Haley, as much as any of their peers. A pure adrenalin version of Buddy Holly's "Not Fade Away" was an early single. At some point, they had to have a rapproachment with the white rock`n'roll that was their heritage. The earliest Stones albums usually featured an original or two. Usually they were less than stellar -- fairly typical British Invasion-type rock. The closest any originals came to their real inspirations was "Little By Little," a Jimmy Reed-style number that Phil Spector wrote for them. It didn't take long. By the end of `64 the Jagger-Richards songwriting team had taken what they'd learned from blues and r&b and (now) soul music too, and incorporated it into their own idiom. The blues ceased to be their source of material and now was simply absorbed into their own overall sound. Listen to Otis Redding's version of "Satisfaction" and you see how easily that famous riff is adapted as a horn riff (which is what Keith had originally intended it as). Listen to the way later songs like "You Got the Silver" and "No Expectations" manage to take rural blues slide-guitar and blues songs structures and mate it to music that owes as much to Bob Dylan and English folk music as it does to Robert Johnson. Listen to the way their cover of Johnson's "Stop Breaking Down" or their own "Ventilator Blues" draw on everything they learned from Howlin' Wolf while still sounding like nothing so much as the Stones.
What's more, they never stopped absorbing current and even divergent trends. They inhaled country music ("Honky Tonk Woman," "Wild Horses" and many more), Dylan (Mick rapidly absorbed Dylan's lyrical style into his own and the rare b-side "Who's Driving Your Plane" is pure Blonde on Blonde), soul music (numerous covers including an early version of Solomon Burke's "That's How Strong My Love Is" is one of Mick's finest hours vocally and later they would create originals like "Long Long While" and "I Got the Blues" [heavily infuenced by Ike and Tina Turner, I always think] that would have done any 60's soulster proud), gospel ("Shine A Light," and much of Exile on Main Street), latin music ("Sympathy for the Devil"), British folk music ("Lady Jane," much of Aftermath and Between the Buttons), psychedelia (again, much of Between the Buttons and the much-maligned but still intriguing Their Satanic Majesties Request), reggae, and just about everything else as well. They exhaled music that was informed by, influenced by, and shaped by all of these styles but was always their own. Beyond the sheer volume, it's the sheer breadth and resilience of their music - the way they've absorbed everything that came their way and managed to forge it into Stones music. Greil Marcus recently said: the
Rolling Stones—and Andrew Loog Oldham, who as their manager was a
brilliant publicist—set up a context, their own pop world, where
breaking rules and hiding forbidden messages in plain sight were the
currency. But what that really did, I think, was create a situation in
which it was less the Rolling Stones against the limits that the world
at large meant to put on their music (or anything else) than a matter of
the band against its own limits, in terms of how it could sound, what
it could say, how, finally, the sound could say everything. And that’s
what they found with “Gimmie Shelter,” the way it sets itself up for an
explosion the Rolling Stones themselves could never quite set off—which
is why they brought in Merry Clayton, who grasped what the song needed,
and found it: “I’m going to blow them out of the room”—and with the
expanding, never-ending final choruses of the London Bach Choir in “You
Can’t Always Get What You Want.” (stolen from the Greil Marcus blog, without permission)
Now, what came after? I was non-plussed by "Don't Stop" and the other tracks from Forty Licks, and A Bigger Bang left me cold, too. It was all very decently-done but nothing really grabbed me. But, just as I prepared to file them under "done," "Doom and Gloom" showed up and knocked me out. Yeah, I think it's easily their best single since the 70's. It rocks. So, yes - the Stones are a disgustingly rich, over-the-hill, past-their-prime, ugly, sexist, dated relic. But they've produced a stunning body of work (isn't Lou Reed still celebrated almost entirely for his 60's catalog, which is a third the size of the Stones?), they still usually produce a decent song or two on any project they emit, and they can still kick it onstage (I've seen them three times - 1981, 1994, and 1999 - the last was the best, an absolutely great show, `94 was a near miss and `81 was a fun party if not great musically). As far as I'm concerned, they can keep going forever. Rolling Stones Allmusic Rolling Stones Wiki Rolling Stones Official Site Time Is On Our Side an essential and fascinating archive for any Stones-freak Essential Listening: R&B Phase:Dave Marsh once said the Stones in this era were the greatest white r&b band in history, and that this was not opinion, but fact. He was right. The Rolling Stones (England's Newest Hitmakers) is the opening volley and a glorious one, working Buddy Holly, Bobby Troup and Muddy Waters into near-Ramones tempo ravers, good soul covers ("Walking the Dog"), an amusing stab at Merseybeat-via-Arthur Alexander ("Tell Me") and "Little By Little," an original that already encapsulates their image. 12 x 5 is more of the same, with Irma Thomas' "Time Is On My Side" as a highlight. The Rolling Stones, Now is THE classic of this phase, "a sexual tour of the deep South" as Greil Marcus called it. Cobbled from British EP's and singles, it holds together perfectly as an album. Soul covers, Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley, Muddy Waters, Otis Redding. If you own only one album from this period, this is the one. Out Of Our Heads is almost all soul and almost all golden, and its got "Satisfaction." Even better, it's got Mick's best vocal ever on Solomon Burke's "That's How Strong My Love Is". December's Children is an oddity, another cobbled-together comp. For a long time I didn't bother with it, but as a hardcore fan I just couldn't be without "Talkin' Bout You," "Gotta Get Away," "Blue Turns To Grey". Essential if you're a fan (obviously, I am). More Hot Rocks contains some early and essential sides from this phase, too ("I Can't Be Satisfied", their best Muddy Waters cover). The oft-maligned Got Live If You Want It is a good live disk that represents a transition between this and the next phase. There's also a good live radio broadcast from Paris in 1966 that's worth hearing (look it up). For viewing, their performance inThe T.A.M.I. Showis a must-see. Swingin' London Phase: This is the period in which they (mostly) abandoned covers and joined The Beatles at the top of the sixties rock pantheon. Aftermath, is the key and the masterpiece - a sinister, dark, blues/soul/folk/Dylan/Beatles hybrid, all snaky guitars, thundering drums and dark, sexy imagery - "Paint It Black" was the hit, "Under My Thumb", "Stupid Girl" cemented the image. I'm partial to the eerie choral "I Am Waiting" and the masturbatory ramble of "Going Home". The film it was supposed to have been the soundtrack to never materialized, but it would have looked a lot like Repulsion, Seance On A Wet Afternoon, Bunny Lake is Missing - crossed with A Hard Day's Night. Between the Buttons is their rather elegant folk-rock follow up - by now their music has lost the b&w/chiaroscuro of Aftermath and is in vivid, psychedelic colors. File this next to Revolver, A Quick One, Face To Face and Surrealistic Pillow. Despite its touches of British whimsy ("Something Happened To Me Yesterday" - greatest song ever about a first LSD trip), the bulk of it ( "All Sold Out", "Yesterday's Papers", "Connection") carry on the musical and lyrical themes of Aftermath, this time in technicolor, and "Who's Been Sleeping Here" is their best folk-rock number ever. Flowers is another singles/b-sides/UK album tracks compilation. Much of their best music from this phase came out on singles and the tracks here are all essential ("Ruby Tuesday", "Back Street Girl", "Mother's Little Helper"). Their Satanic Majesties Request is the often-reviled flower power album, the anti-Sgt. Pepper. For all its bad rep, it's not that bad an album. The jams are amusing, "2000 Man" rocks, and "2000 Light Years From Home" stomps early Pink Floyd like a grape. Classic. More Hot Rocks also contains "We Love You" and "Dandelion", both sides of a pre-Satanic single, and worth having. Missing from all of these is the also very essential "Who's Driving Your Plane", their take on the Blonde On Blonde sound, and the less essential but still enjoyable "Sad Day". For these you'll have to go to Singles 1965-1967or The London Years. Another Paris radio broadcast, this time from `66, shows them doing a very cool medley of "Going Home"/"Satisfaction" that's well worth hearing, as is the `67 broadcast, which has a similar medley plus "Get Off My Cloud"/"Yesterday's Papers", "Paint It Black" and other goodies. Jimmy Miller Phase: this is where the Stones left their 60's daze behind and became the sinister, "salacious" hard rock band (Dave Marsh's [accurate] term) they're best known as. Innocence gone and mired in explicit drugs`n'sex imagery, but with Miller behind the boards, Brian Jones out and Mick Taylor's genius soloing flying over Mick and Keith's matured songwriting, they sounded better than ever. This is their peak. Kicking off with "Jumping Jack Flash" and the equally glorious psychedelic country-rock of "Child Of The Moon" - you'll have to go to either Singles 1965-1967 or The London Years to get both. London Years also has the essential "Honky Tonk Woman" single from `69. Then into the stunningBeggar's Banquet- post Music From Big Pink - evil folk, Delta blues, country, raga-rock and the Velvets, all wrapped up in the sleaziest cover ever seen (the bathroom wall, once-censored but now restored on the CD). Not a single less-than-great track. Some consider Let It Bleed even better. Not me but its got "Gimme Shelter" and "Monkey Man" and "You Got the Silver" and more great stuff. Get Yer Ya's Ya's Outis a great live album that covers this period, and their epochal 1969 tour that ended in Altamont. Some swear by the bootleg Liv'r Than You'll Ever Be but I find it less than essential. Bootlegs of the Altamont showcan also be found and they don't sound half bad, despite obvious problems. The film Gimme Shelter is absolutely essential viewing for anyone interested in the Altamont thing, or just wanting to see great footage of them on their greatest tour. It's a great film, period. Also worth seeing is The Stones in the Park, Brian's funeral/Mick Taylor's coming out party. Good, raunchy performances. The Rolling Stones Rock and Roll Circus has them running through an intense mini-set including a fine "You Can't Always Get What You Want." There's an audio version, too. The Who's crazed "A Quick One" and John Lennon's performances are also essential stuff. Oh, and the legendary "Cocksucker Blues"(there's two versions - one acoustic and one rocker) is worth hearing even if Shane MacGowan ultimatelytold the story more effectively. Mick's "Memo From Turner"from the film Performance is also a classic. After the Altamont debacle, they continued to make great music without a blip. Sticky Fingers carries on nicely, and has "Sway" and "Moonlight Mile", two of my all-time favorites. Then they drop the bomb with Exile On Main Street, an album that's a legend itself. And deservedly so. I've already talked about the worthy Goat's Head Soup, which closes off this phase on a good note. All the boots I've heard from this later period are pretty weak, although theLeeds show from `71 is pretty good, and their Winterland `72show is still sworn by among those who witnessed it. Most of what I've heard they sound sloppy, wasted, out of tune and even out of time(!). The same goes for most of their performances in the infamous Cocksucker Blues, which is really a pretty boring film, albeit at times amusing for its sheer nastiness. They sound pretty decent in what I've seen of Ladies and Gentlemen, The Rolling Stones, the concert film they released in lieu of the still-controversial Cocksucker. Sucking in the Seventies: Things get spottier here. It's Only Rock and Roll I've talked above. Look for a cheap copy. Same goes forBlack and Blue. Some GirlsI can recommend unequivocally. Also worth a hear are never-released bootleg tracks "Claudine" (two versions), "Fiji Jim" and Keith singing Arthur Conley's"Let's Go Steady". Nothing else of much interest here. Essential viewing is their 1978 appearance on Saturday Night Live. Look for their performances of "Beast Of Burden," "Respectable," and "Shattered" and Mick's bit with Dan Ackroyd as Tom Snyder - classic! After That: A very mixed bag. I've given my opinions above. I've found their 80's albums good for compilation-fodder. I like Keith'sTalk Is Cheap very much, and also Mick's Wandering Spirit, and I stand by Voodoo Lounge, Bridges to Babylon and the new single "Doom and Gloom." Explore for yourself. I highly recommend the back-to-the-roots video Muddy Waters & The Rolling Stones Live At The Checkerboard Lounge, which features Mick, Keith and Ron jamming with Muddy in Chicago. Great stuff. Essential Reading: There's hundreds. Some have been highly regarded but many of those I don't care for. The best all-around I've read is Stephen Davis' Old Gods Almost Dead. I also highly recommend David Dalton's The Rolling Stones: The First Twenty Years, which has some great writing and great coffee-table potential as well. Similar is According to The Rolling Stones which is straight from the mouths, and has lots of good pics. Same goes for Mojo's 2003 special edition which has a good critical discography, interviews, and other valuable items. Keith's Life is a delightful romp.Up And Down With The Rolling Stones by Tony Sanchez is good for sheer dirt. For more great early photos, I recommend The Early Stones: Legendary Photographs of a Band in the Making 1963-1973 by Terry Southern, Michael Cooper and Keith Richards. If you want some laughs, check out Tony Scaduto's absurd Everybody's Lucifer, a fanciful bio of Mick that's heavy on comedy and condemnation - highlight - a brutal knife fight between a drug-crazed Brian and Mick over a bad dinner. Essential Viewing: Aside from what's mentioned above... The recent Crossfire Hurricane has some great footage, but the one to get is the out-of-print 25x5, which, even though old, covers their career up to 1989 (and hey, it's the 60's and 70's you're interested in anyway) and is brimming with insightful interviews with all five members. Unequivocally recommended. It has never had an official DVD release but un-official ones are not difficult to find. The recent Shine A Light is a good concert film.
“The Hardest-Working Man in Show Business,” “Soul Brother Number One,” “the Godfather of Soul,” “the Minister of New New Super Heavy Funk” — in whatever guise, James Brown is unquestionably one of the most charismatic musical icons of the 20th century. An irrepressible performer, ruthless but highly proficient bandleader, awesome dancer, and, unquestionably, the man who flipped soul music on its head to create funk, Brown became a huge black cultural symbol in the 1960s and ’70s. He’s certainly altered the course of black popular music more than once, with his innovations flowing into the careers of Michael Jackson, Mick Jagger, Public Enemy, Prince, and a multitude of others.
The music he cut in his prime, as well as his idiosyncratic screams and squeals, have formed the bedrock of hip-hop. He’s subsequently become the world’s most sampled artist. He’s also had to struggle with addiction and personal tragedy, especially in his later years. In 1988, he was imprisoned for two years, convicted of aggravated assault and failing to stop for a police car following a high-speed police chase from Georgia into South Carolina. His third wife, Adrienne, died unexpectedly after undergoing plastic surgery in 1996. But today, he still tours, and his performances belie his septuagenarian physique. James Brown is undoubtedly a complex, sometimes misunderstood, but always absorbing figure.
He was born in a one-room shack in the woods of South Carolina in 1933. His parents split up when he was four years old and he moved in with his Aunt Honey, the madam of a brothel in Augusta, Georgia. Poverty dominated his youth; he danced for money, shined shoes, picked cotton, and was dismissed from school for “insufficient clothes.” He developed his unique, compelling voice by singing in church. But at the age of 15, after breaking into a car, he was sentenced to between eight to 16 years in jail. While incarcerated, he led a gospel choir, demonstrating his organizational prowess at an early age, and was befriended by a local musician, Bobby Byrd. Upon his release three years later, he was aided by the Byrd family and became part of Bobby’s vocal group.
Eventually gravitating toward R&B music, the group, which came to be known as the Famous Flames, performed across Georgia in the mid-’50s. They impressed Ralph Bass, a King Records talent scout, with their demo tape of “Please Please Please,” and the song was released in 1956, becoming their first hit single. In 1958, “Try Me” was also released and more hits followed. In the late 1950s and the 1960s, James Brown stubbornly mastered every dance craze like the “camel walk,” the “mashed potato,” and the “popcorn.” He invented some too, often declaring he was about to “do the James Brown.”
His concerts were passionately anticipated. “Pee Wee” Ellis, his saxophonist, once commented: “When you heard James Brown was coming to town, you stopped what you were doing and started saving your money.” Recorded in 1962, the album LIVE AT THE APOLLO is an awesome document of Brown’s dramatic shows and the raw, emotive power of his voice. The record sold millions of copies, establishing James Brown as one of the leading black performers of the period.
The Flames toured ceaselessly throughout the 1960s, often performing five or six nights each week, and Brown, who promoted and planned his tours, was a sharp businessman, hitting “money towns” at the weekends. A perfectionist, he famously fined his musicians for missing notes or playing the wrong ones. And when he yelled out the name of a musician, that person was expected to improvise perfectly on the spot. Another saxophonist, Maceo Parker, admitted, “You had to think quick to keep up.” In 1965, during THE T.A.M.I. SHOW in Santa Monica, James Brown performed before the Rolling Stones. Of their respective performances, music historian Nelson George, observed: “Mick Jagger jiggled across the stage doing his lame funky chicken after James Brown’s incredible camel-walking, proto-moon-walking, athletically daring performance.”
In 1965, the immaculate rhythmic tension of “Papa’s Got a Brand New Bag” ushered in a new style of music — funk. Throughout the 1960s and into the early 1970s, James Brown increasingly abandoned melody and harmony, focusing on rhythm in songs like “Cold Sweat,” “I Got the Feelin’,” and “Give It Up or Turnit a Loose.” Brown admitted, “I was hearing everything, even the guitars, like they were drums.” By the end of the 1960s, he was mercilessly reducing every instrument to a percussive role.
James Brown’s involvement with the civil rights movement also began in the mid-’60s. He embraced it with the same energy and dynamism he devoted to his performances. In 1966, the song “Don’t Be a Drop-Out” urged black children not to neglect their education. In the same year, he flew down to Mississippi to visit the wounded civil rights activist James Meredith, shot during his “March Against Fear.” From 1965 onward, Brown often canceled his shows to perform benefit concerts for black political organizations like the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC). In 1968, he initiated “Operation Black Pride,” and, dressing as Santa Claus, presented 3,000 certificates for free Christmas dinners in the poor black neighborhoods of New York City. He also started buying radio stations.
By 1968, James Brown was very much more than an important musician; he was a major African-American icon. He often spoke publicly about the pointlessness of rioting and in February 1968, informed the black activist H. Rap Brown, “I’m not going to tell anybody to pick up a gun.” On April 5, 1968, African Americans rioted in 110 cities following civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination the day before. James Brown was due to perform in Boston, Massachusetts. Mayor Kevin White and Brown decided to proceed with the show and televise it. They realized people could not resist watching a James Brown concert, and the riots gripping other cities were averted in Boston.
In May 1968, President Lyndon Johnson invited James Brown to the White House. The following month, the government sponsored him to perform for the troops in Vietnam. In August, he recorded “Say It Loud — I’m Black and I’m Proud.” Brown later attested the song “cost me a lot of my crossover audience,” but it definitely caught the rising spirit of African-American nationalism and became the unifying anthem of the age. He graced the cover of LOOK MAGAZINE, which asked, “Is this the Most Important Black Man in America?”
Throughout the first half of the 1970s, James Brown continued to make the charts with songs like “Sex Machine,” “Get on the Good Foot,” and more political material like “Talkin’ Loud and Sayin’ Nothing.” His popularity dipped momentarily when he supported Nixon’s reelection in 1972, but he bounced back, writing the soundtracks to BLACK CAESAR and SLAUGHTER’S BIG RIP OFF. In 1973, his first son, Teddy, died tragically in a car accident and the IRS stalked him for millions in back taxes, but the concerts and hits didn’t stop. He performed at the Ali-Foreman fight, “the Rumble in the Jungle,” in Zaire and was paid $160,000 to play at the President of Gabon’s inauguration in 1975. In 1976, 20 years after his first hit single, James Brown entered the charts with “Get Up Offa That Thing,” but his career was consumed by disco, a payola scandal, and financial and domestic difficulties.
In 1980, his appearance in the film THE BLUES BROTHERS was the start of his comeback. Having a hit single with “Living in America,” from ROCKY IV, helped too. In 1986, he was one of the first inductees into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Emerging hip-hoppers, like Afrika Bambaataa and Public Enemy’s Chuck D, either recorded with him or praised him as an important influence. Despite this, Brown continued to struggle, very publicly, with personal demons, imprisonment, and addictions well into the 1990s.
On December 25, 2006, Brown died at approximately 1:45 AM EST (06:45 UTC) from congestive heart failure resulting from complications of pneumonia, with his agent Frank Copsidas and his friend Paul Sargent at his bedside. According to Sargent, Brown stuttered "I'm going away tonight", and then Brown took three long, quiet breaths and fell asleep before dying.
"... they weren't afraid to do what they felt was right. They didn't pander to any record company requests or trends of the time. Their first two albums were revolutionary in their experimentation. At a time when harmony and melody were at a premium, [they] produced drones and primal rhythms. They weren't just an avant-garde band, they were at the very edge of the avant-garde and the intertwining of various art forms into their sphere was truly mold-breaking. The Velvets continued a counterculture mixed-media procession that started with Kerouac and Ginsberg, passed through Dylan, continued with Patti Smith ... their music stimulated the body while the lyrics stimulated the mind." (Rob Jovanovic)
"This was hard to suss out at the time, which is probably why people are still learning from it. It sounds intermittently crude, thin, and pretentious at first, but it never stops getting better ... nobody experimented more successfully than these folks." (Robert Christgau)
"The Velvets straddled the categories. They were nothing if not eclectic: their music and sensibility suggested influences as diverse as Bob Dylan and Andy Warhol, Pete Townshend and John Cage; they experimented with demented feedback and isolated pure notes and noise for noise's sake; they were partial to sweet, almost folky melodies; they played the electric viola on Desolation Row. But they were basically rock-and-roll artists, building their songs on a beat that was sometimes implied rather than heard; on simple, tough, pithy lyrics about their hard-edged urban demimonde; on rock-and-rolls oldest metaphor for modern city life - anarchic energy contained by a tight, repetitive structure. Some of The Velvets best songs - "Heroin" especially - redefined how rock-and-roll was supposed to sound; others - "I'm Waiting For The Man," "White Light/White Heat," Beginning To See The Light," "Rock & Roll" - used basic rock-and-roll patterns to redefine how the music was supposed to feel." (Ellen Willis)
In the summer of 1983, I bought 1969: The Velvet Underground Live at the local Recycled Records store. I remember saving my allowance money and riding the bus down to Palo Alto to pick it up. School was just out. I was 17.
I don't know what was in the air in the 80's that caused so many fellow music geeks my age to get hip to the Velvets. But there was something. Me, I got turned on by reading Ellen Willis' essay about them in the book Stranded.
Of course, at the time it was a different story. I didn't know anyone else who dug them. You certainly couldn't hear them on the radio. There were no books about them. There was no internet to look them up on. I didn't know at the time that a fanzine called What Goes On was being published ... by people not much older than myself.
All I knew was that 1969 was one of the most amazing albums I'd ever heard, quite different from anything else I was listening to at the time, and that it was practically the only album I wanted to listen to, all summer long. I say practically, because when I bought The Velvet Underground and Nico a couple months later, it nudged even 1969 aside. VU&N was unlike anything I had ever heard. Beautiful and slightly frightening ... words often bandied about but in this case, actually true.
Unbeknownst to me, the Velvets were turning on an entire generation, a decade+ after their dissolution. Even as Moe Tucker slaved away at Wal-Mart, and Sterling was student teaching, and Lou Reed was climbing back to respectability after a decade of making a clown of himself, and John Cale was cleaning up and changing his daughter's diapers, and Nico - wasn't cleaning up ... even as all that was happening, guys around my age were finding these then hard-to-find albums, and learning from them. And writing their own songs. And starting bands. Bands that would come to dominate the decade. Bands like REM and about five hundred or so (conservative estimate) others. The Velvets are the only band in the "classic rock" pantheon of the sixties who never get played on "classic rock" radio. But make no mistake. Baby boomers may gag, but the Velvets are every bit as important and influential as the Beatles/Stones/Dylan/Who/Kinks/Yardbirds/Led Zep/Dylan/Byrds/CCR/Black Sabbath/Hendrix/Doors and fill in the blanks. It just took 10+ years to sort it out. Today, in spite of their long-ago demise, broken only by the aborted 1993 tour, they are pretty well famous.
And deservedly so, because their music has aged even slightly better than their contemporaries. I think that's because underneath the startling noise and innovation, there's music of great beauty and great maturity. They dug deeper than just the adolescent angst and fury and confusion that fuels most great rock`n'roll. They also found heart. They were indeed the biggest, loudest, hairiest group of all.
