Tuesday, January 17, 2012: TWOfer Tuesday - The "London Calling Is The Greatest Rock Album Ever Made" Edition

Bands are curious things. If you've ever been in one you know this. There comes a time when you look around you, at your bandmates, your equipment, probably the empty club you are playing in and then suddenly, in one moment, you clearly understand that Talking Heads lyric:

"You may ask yourself, "Am I right, am I wrong?" Then you may say to yourself, "MY GOD, WHAT HAVE I DONE?"

So, there was a time in my life when I was playing bass in a couple of bands. Eventually, I too got to that point described above, so I decided to start reading musical biographies.  Any biography of musical figures I could get a hold of. I was really trying to get inspiration and insight about music, equipment, performing and any insider knowledge about the music business I could find. But mostly I curious about bands. How do they form, how do they function, why do they break up.

One of the most peculiar books I came across was "Last Gang in Town: The Story and Myth of the Clash" by Marcus Gray. Recently, he has written an updated version with a lot more info, however this was the one that was available in my local library at that time.

Now let me confess something, gentle reader. This might seem quite shocking coming from a purveyor of supposed "cool" music, but I've never really been that into The Clash. I mean, I "appreciate" them and all, and their impact on music and culture and whatnot. However in my life, I can count very few times when looking for music I've thought, "Man, I need to hear some Clash!". And probably one of the reasons for this is that I never really bought into these guys as musical cum political revolutionaries. It all smelled overcooked. So, when I picked up Mr Gray's book, I was glad to see that I was not alone, and was looking forward to reading an opinion antithetical from the usual hagiographies that one encounters about the Sacred Clash.

Which is exactly what I got. To a fault. This became one of the most relentlessly negative books I think I have ever read. I was certainly happy to have the Clash taken down a notch or two, but halfway through even I was saying, "Aw, c'mon, give 'em a break, will ya"?

See, the thing about it was this: you really came away knowing that The Clash had let the author down. This guy had bought into the hype and the myth so heavily, and somewhere, somehow, he finally saw The Clash for who they truly were - just some guys in a band making music. After all the albums and all the posters and all the t-shirts and all the political sermonizing about Revolución, these were just guys who played music together in a band. And, boy, did the author have an axe to grind about that.

What he should have done, instead of venting out his frustration on the page, was thrown away all the Clash posters, t-shirts and all the Clash albums...save one.

London Calling.

London Calling is the real deal. London Calling will not let you down. London Calling not only lives up to the hype, it squares right up to the hype, looks it straight into its eyes and then kicks the hype's scrawny ass all the way down the street.

Out of 500 selections for Greatest Album Ever, Rolling Stone has London Calling at #8. Rolling Stone are idiots. But, if you read this blog, you already know this.

You want punk? Ska-reggae? R&B? Rockabilly? Jazz? Ok, well, Jimmy Jazz is soft, pseudo-jazz, but it's a heck of a lot more than their peers were doing at the time.

You want hope? Fear? Joy? Agnst? Social commentary?  Just a couple of good time songs?  You say you want a revolución? This album delivers.

London Calling is the rarest of rare creatures - it is both of its time and timeless. Put on Sgt Pepper (RS's choice for #1 album ever) and you can hear a great album, no question, but there are cracks in the foundation there. That album is showing its age. Put on Train In Vain, or Rudy Can't Fail, or any number of tracks from LC, they they sound like they could have been written and recorded yesterday. Or tomorrow.

You can hear something new every time you listen through these tracks. You make some connection, you see some different level of meaning that you didn't catch before.

There are very, very few albums that hold up that well, for that many rotations, for that long of time. Yes, Sgt. Pepper. Bob Dylan's Blonde On Blonde. Maybe Pet Sounds by The Beach Boys.

But none of those have the visceral impact of London Calling. Those albums are cool. This album is heavy and cool.

London Calling is the best album of all time. But don't take my word for it.

Listen for yourself.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011: TWOfer Tuesday - The "You Can't Wear White After Labor Day" Edition

Actually, to celebrate the re-instating of TWOfer Tuesday's, there's a bit more than two songs for today - all flying in the face of conventional wisdom for not wearing white after Labor Day.

While that may or may not be true, these songs are cool all year long. Enjoy.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010: TWOfer Tuesday - The "Why The Brits Always Hatin' On The Colonies" Edition

Honestly, I can't think of any song from an American artist putting down the UK, can you?

At a stretch, one can point to American songsmiths Lerner and Loewe asking "Why Can't the English Learn How To Speak?" But that's not open mockery, just a friendly jab at that uniquely American obsession about British accents. And, besides, you can just imagine Rex Harrison is asking himself the exact same thing as he's singing that song.

I mean, obviously, the Brits are a naturally self-deprecating lot, and a good dose of their own popular music has included satire aimed at exposing those uniquely British character traits. "Dedicated Follower of Fashion" by the Kinks and "God Save The Queen" by The Sex Pistols come immediately to mind. Going back earlier, there's Noel Coward's "Mad Dogs and Englishmen". More recently, I'm quite fond of Billy Brag's "Take Down The Union Jack."

I'm sure there are hundreds of other examples, and if all the British followers of my humble blog would please include them in the comments section of this post, it would be greatly appreciated.

Going on, the flip side is also true; you don't have to be an American Idiot to know that many Red Blooded American songwriters poke fun (and more) at their own home country.

So, then, where are all the American songs making fun, satirizing, or expressing open disdain for the UK?

I think it's because we, The Americans, are pretty obsessed with everything British. I know for a fact that far more Americans are enamoured with the Royal Family than anyone I've ever met in Great Britain.   More Yanks like Tony Blair and Simon Cowell than any Brit does. Americans, I assume, would even think Boyzone were cool. If they had ever heard them.

So, that's my theory on why Americans don't really take a swipe at the Brits, because we just love them all so much! Their quaint, little villages and their funny accents, their warm beer and driving on the wrong side of the road, ain't they so adorable!

Which, of course, begs the question; why do the Brits take so many frickin' shots at the Yanks?  Bitter about losing the colonies maybe?  No, I think it's more than that.

Look it this way; imagine life is like high school. Which is it, actually, but that's a whole different post.

Americans are the bubbly, vapid, gorgeous (but in a plasticky way) energetic, go-getting blonde lead cheerleader. The Brits are the dour, sneering, sarcastic, overly-intelligent, fashionable chick wearing layers of dark tones with boots, sitting under a tree reading Proust.

The cheerleader may have doubts about the dour chick, and maybe she'll even say something about her to her cheerleader friends during a sleepover, but would never cross her in public. The dour, chick, however, has no qualms with openly mocking the cheerleader to her friends, classmates, random strangers walking past. Hell, it's almost expected of her.

But, it's more than that, really. More than just fulfilling a role, rising to societies expectations. What it is, honestly, is that deep down in places they don't talk about at parties, the Brits know they need Americans.

Think about it. You can't quantify cool without uncool.  You can't measure aloofness without bubbly enthusiasm. You can't truly appreciate cleverness without naivety, or irony without unfettered joy. Black clothes are cool, but they only really stand out when everyone else in the room is wearing hot pink.

The Brits are world class cool, but only because Americans are so staggeringly uncool.

So they take swipes because we are easy, obvious targets, exactly they way "cool" kids taunt the jocks, or the cheerleaders.


Well, it's that........or they are just very, very afraid of us.