...to the Sublime

Some Things Never Change

Picked up this album in the $1 bargain bin at Amoeba Records. It's a collection of Texan and Texas-inspired songs recorded in 1957 by a Dixieland band. I don't currently have a way to transfer vinyl to MP3s, but it's not the music I wanted to feature anyway. It's that hilarious album cover. Note the sombrero-wearing Mexicans being chased across the border. 

RIP, Sylvia Robinson

Sylvia Robinson had a music career that almost defies description. In the mid-1950s, her music teacher, Mickey Baker, convinced her to form a duo with him, modeled after the success of Les Paul and Mary Ford. Mickey & Sylvia had a #1 R&B hit in 1956 with "Love Is Strange." They recorded together off-and-on until the mid-'60s when they went their separate ways. She resurfaced in 1973 with the odd, soft-porn radio hit, "Pillow Talk." In the late '70s, Robinson and her husband formed Sugar Hill Records and they convinced three young men from New York City to record what became the seminal "Rapper's Delight." In the early '80s they signed Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, who released "The Message" in 1982. How's that for a career? Robinson died today at the age of 75.

Download 2-10 Love Is Strange (2003 Remastered)

 

The Quintessential "Porgy"

The controversial new production of "Porgy and Bess" is headed for Broadway, and I'd love to hear Audra McDonald perform as Bess, but could any rendition be more perfectly heartbreaking than Nina Simone's version of "I Loves You, Porgy"?

04 I Loves You, Porgy

Guilty Pleasure: White Trash Rock

Every once in a while, you just gotta get a dose of white trash rock. As in Edgar Winter's White Trash--the blues-rock/R&B band he put together in the early '70s that featured singer Jerry LaCroix and guitarist Rick Derringer. It was Derringer who wrote and had a Top 40 hit with "Rock and Roll Hoochie Koo," but on this live album, Edgar's brother Johnny made a guest appearance and did the honors. These white boys had some gumption--part of this album was recorded live at the Apollo Theater. Lawdy mama, light my fuse... 

Download 06 Rock And Roll, Hoochie Koo [Live]

Gems From the Bargain Bin: Bobbie Nelson

 

These days I'm trying not to bring more CDs into a home that's already short on storage space. But I can't resist the bargain bin at my local record store, where I often come across gems like this one from Willie Nelson's sister and longtime pianist. Would love to know the backstory on how she came to record this song. But, hey, she's from Texas--she's heard plenty Meskin music.

Download 09 Sabor a mi

RIP, Wardell Quezergue

Along with Allen Toussaint and Dave Bartholomew, Wardell Quezergue was one of the primary architects of The New Orleans Sound. Known as "The Creole Beethoven," Quezergue was a bandleader, composer, producer and arranger. He also founded NOLA Records, which released Robert Parker's "Barefootin'," and his credits also included the Dixie Cups’ “Iko Iko” and "Chapel of Love," and Professor Longhair's "Big Chief." Quezergue also did a lot of work for the Mississippi-based Malaco label, where he reportedly oversaw the sessions for both King Floyd's “Groove Me” and Jean Knight's “Mr. Big Stuff” on the same day. Not bad for a day's work. He also co-wrote, with drummer Smokey Johnson, a seminal New Orleans song titled "It Ain't My Fault." Quezergue died Tuesday at the age of 81. That's gonna be some second line parade.

 

Download 01 It Ain't My Fault, Pts. 1 & 2

 

Willie's Ice House, Kelly Drive-In Theater, and Freddie King

My dad was a bit of an entrepreneur. From the early '60s until the mid '70s, he owned a series of bars on the South Side of San Antonio. The one that provided the most memories for me was Willie's Ice House, a former gas station on Frio City Rd. that was adjacent to the abandoned Kelly Drive-in Theater. (In the photo, Arco Iris Ice Cream, in the lower left corner, has replaced my dad's place; the large lot above it, marked with the red circle, was the drive-in, now a junkyard.)

It wasn't long before my dad took advantage of all that land behind his bar. He leased the drive-in property and he and some friends fashioned a softball field for weekend tournaments in the corner of the vast lot right behind the ice house. They also built a wobbly two-story structure that at ground level was a concession stand; upstairs was the perch for the scorekeeper/announcer. That was my job, where I spent many summer weekends as a teenager, trying to beat the heat with a non-stop supply of ice-cold Big Red. (If you have to ask, then you're not from Texas.) Occasionally, some team would be one player short, so I'd be summoned to come down and grab a glove. I don't know what was worse--playing on the gravel-pocked infield where every grounder was a potential nose-breaker, or roaming the outfield, where there was no fence. If a batter hit the ball far enough you'd have to chase it through an area that hadn't been leveled, running up-and-down the berms that ran between the parking rows.

In the spring of 1972, someone from the local free-form FM station, KEXL, stumbled upon the drive-in property and decided it was the perfect spot for an Independence Day music festival. They struck a deal with my dad, which put him in charge of concessions for the event. The promoters built a stage against the massive screen (still visible at upper left), which in the evening provided a canvas for the psychedelic light show. The lineup included the Austin band Freda and the Firedogs, featuring lead singer Marcia Ball. The headliners were Seals & Crofts, riding the waves of their hit album, "Summer Breeze." The co-headliner was bluesman Freddie King, aka The Texas Cannonball, who blew everyone away.

The event was a huge success. My dad and a few of his buds were bitten by the festival bug and they decided to put on their own event. They found a riverfront property just south of town and, on Easter Sunday, 1973, held the "Welcome Home POWs Rock Festival." One of my dad's partners was a U.S. Navy retiree so he must have come up with the concept. The headliner was supposed to be Malo, led by Carlos Santana's brother, Jorge. But I'm not sure they even showed up. It rained most of the day and the event was somewhat of a flop, disparaged as such by Chet Flippo in Rolling Stone.

That ended my dad's days as the Mexican Bill Graham. But I'll always have the memories of Willie's, the Kelly Drive-In, and The Texas Cannonball. (FYI--by this point, Freddie King was recording for Leon Russell's Shelter Records label. Here's a song co-written by Leon; that's him on piano with his regular band at the time: guitarist Don Preston, bassist Carl Radle and drummer Jim Gordon.)

 Download 13 Big Legged Woman

The cover art was by Jim Franklin, who produced those classic posters for Armadillo World Headquarters.

 

 

 

Guest Blogger: Berton Averre

I've never met Berton Averre, but we were e-troduced by our mutual friend (and Texas native!) Rob Meurer, with whom he's co-written some cool musical theater works. Berton was also an original member of The Knack and he co-wrote "My Sharona." 'Nuff said. Berton has become a devoted follower of this blog, and he's a fellow music hound who has turned me on to some great tunes. So I invited him to use "Sublime" as a vehicle for his musings. He delivered. Big time. Check out his breakdown of a '60s pop classic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To say I am a fan of '60s music is an understatement along the lines of "The Grand Canyon is colorful,"or "Michelle Bachman's arguments lack subtlety." (Although I do admire many of her guitar parts on the Guess Who songs.) With every passing year the glorious, one-in-a-billion explosion of pop music us old fogies were blessed to have grown up with is put into sharper contradistinction by the uninspiring (not to say "limp-dick") music scene that the luckless teens of today are being forced to swallow.

Rather than prove this by citing the countless heroes of our era (Beatles/Dylan/Hendrix ad infinitum), the likes of which exist nowhere on the current musical landscape, I will illustrate this woeful comparison instead with a couple of names that would probably not even show up on anyone's' 60s depth chart: we're talking 6th round draft picks, at best. Ladies and gentlemen, meet Lugee Sacco and Twyla Herbert.

Lou Christie's given name was Lugee Sacco (and if the kids in his neighborhood didn't call him "Loogie" they were really missing a bet). He is best remembered for his falsetto, which rivaled those of Frankie Valli and Brian Wilson. He would sing the verses in his pleasant, somewhat cajoling baritone, and soar into his oboe-like head voice for the choruses, to great effect. Surrounding his voice (or singing terrific counterparts to it) were his ever-present cohorts, The Tammys, for my money the best singing Girl Group of them all. His songwriting partner was one Twyla Herbert, a concert pianist of Gypsy extraction, and, no, I'm not making that up. Their songs were always entertaining, and at times astonishingly accomplished in a sneaky, still-sounds-like-a-teen-pop-record kind of way. Their magnum opus was "Lightnin' Strikes."

If you're anywhere near my age you know the song (from 1965). Huge hit, undeniable, right-out-of-the-shrink-wrap smash. But if you peel back the onion layers, and study this record analytically, you'll find not just a great record, but in its own inimitable way a work of genius. Genius?  Lou Christie?  Yes, if only for two-and-a-half minutes. Check it out. 

Lightning Strikes

First there's The Big Idea. Every good song, like every good movie, book, etc., has a Big Idea. The Big Idea for "Eleanor Rigby" is, roughly, "Most people lead lives of quiet desperation." The Big Idea for "Angel of the Morning" is "I'm a modern girl, so no guilt trip after you sleep with me." (Come to think of it, that song is pretty close to genius in its own right.) But The Big Idea of "Lightnin' Strikes" is the classic male chauvinist have-your-cake-and-eat-it-too: "It's okay for me to fool around, 'cause I'm a guy, but I still want you there, baby, for the other stuff." In other words, the character singing the song is, not to put too fine a point on it, a total dick. But his appeal is so consistent, so audacious, so delightfully stocked to the gills with bullshit, that he wins us over! For two-and-a-half minutes, anyway.  

Musically speaking there are four stages to the song, and, like a great piece of musical theatre, they adhere to and support the four different emotional stages of Lou's plea. Stage one is the Hard Guy. The opening music is tough; it's edgy, dark even. And Lou the Dick is laying down the law: Listen to me, baby, you gotta understand: you're old enough to know the makings of a man. Well, we already know where this is going, right? To remove any doubt, the third and fourth lines of the song: Listen to me, baby, it's hard to settle down: am I asking too much for you to stick around? Could it be clearer? When was the last time you heard a pop song with such a singular idea expressed so concisely and energetically?  It's taken Lou and Twyla four lines to accomplish what most modern songs don't in their entirety. But this is just the beginning.  Because now we move on to Stage Two.

In Stage Two the music alters, becomes melodious, almost pastoral (remember this). Because Lou the Dick, now that he's laid down the law, is shifting into his soft sell. 

Every boy wants a girl he can trust to the very end [apparently not as burning a desire for every girl]: Baby that's you, won't you wait? BUT til then...  Isn't that classic?  He's sweet talking her, putting his groovy plan (i.e. he cheats and she waits for him to stop cheating) in the best possible light, and with a well-timed "but" goes right back into his apologia. And that pushes Twyla and Lou (and us) into Stage Three.

Stage Three is what I call the run-up. It ramps up the action, it feels like an acceleration: in an action movie it would be the soundtrack that sets up the first alien laser blast. And in Lou's delivery (and Twyla's accompaniment), it feels very much like dark forces are afoot. When I see her lips waiting to be kissed [and the Greek Chorus, The Tammys, warn] Stop!, and Lou wails I can't stop! [Tammys] Stop! [Lou] I can't stop myself!, and the music marches inexorably into the big, dramatic payoff of a hook, as Lou is joined by the Greek Chorus in a symphony of high, squeaky voices, otherwise known as Stage Four: LIGHTNING'S STRIKING AGAI-AIN.

Do you get it? It's the ultimate bullshit denial of responsibility: "It's not me! It's nature! It's 'lightning'!"   Boys and girls, this is genius at work. And as we examine the second verse/chorus, we'll see that Lou and Twyla, like all great craftspersons, stick to the plan, continue doing their work.

STAGE ONE (HARD GUY)

NATURE'S TAKING OVER MY ONE TRACK MIND

BELIEVE IT OR NOT, YOU'RE IN MY HEART ALL THE TIME

[Love the "believe it or not": what a schmuck]

OTHER GIRLS ARE SAYING THAT YOU'LL END UP A FOOL

FOR THE TIME BEING, BABY, LIVE BY MY RULES

STAGE TWO (SOFT SELL)

WHEN I SETTLE DOWN I WANT ONE BA-BY ON MY MIND

[nobody sang the word "baby" like Lugee]

FORGIVE AND FORGET AND I'LL MAKE UP FOR ALL LOST TIME

STAGE THREE (DRAMATIC RUN-UP)

IF SHE'S PUT TOGETHER FINE AND SHE'S READING MY MIND

[STOP!] I CAN'T STOP! [STOP!] I CAN'T STOP MYSELF!

STAGE FOUR (MONEY SHOT)

LIGHTNING'S STRIKING AGAIN

[and to remove all doubt of his prickiness and audacity]

LIGHTNING'S STRIKING AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN

Right?  "It's not me, it's Nature. Whoops, there goes Nature again! Oh, and Nature with that girl, and Nature with that girl..."

At which point the instrumental eight takes over, giving us a chance to give a big nod to Charlie Calello, who arranged and conducted this and so many other great records. Of special note is the weird baritone guitar lead. (In a side note, as best as I've been able to figure over the years, the syllables the Tammys are crooning in this section are "Bup-py ah oooo.") Lou, savvy as ever, realizes that he's still got some selling to do, so we jump back to Stage Two, the Soft Sell. And he pulls out the big guns.

THERE'S A CHAPEL IN THE PINES [remember the pastoral music?]

WAITING FOR US AROUND THE BEND

PICTURE IN YOUR MIND [Tammys join him for this appeal, a la bridesmaids]

LOVE FOREVER [but he can't help himself] BUT TIL THEN

IF SHE GIVES ME A SIGN THAT SHE WANTS TO MAKE TIME

[about as close to saying "I can lay her" as you could get in those days]

[STOP!] I CAN'T STOP [STOP!] etc.

Were Lou and Twyla out to change the world when they wrote and recorded this song? Were they thinking about posterity? Would they have imagined in their wildest dreams that some dweeb almost a half-century later would be studying their text like it was Shakespeare? Of course not. They were trying to have a hit on teen radio. But the craft they employed to achieve this aim; the expertise, the equal parts inspiration and sweat (and for God's sake let's not forget "fun"): it was craft at a level that is unknown today, not just in "pop" circles, but also in the work of any of those artists of more hip-appropriate stances. Put simply, they were better at what they did. Now, let's take another look at our imagined '60s depth chart, and scroll down it until we get to Lou Christie. I rest my case.