And we’re back! Sorry for the lapse in posts. We moved into a new home and unpacking boxes isn’t the only thing I’ve been putting off. Now back to the show…

Maybe it is the cold, dreary weather over the last two days. But for whatever reason, I’ve been digging on Gram Parsons, Flying Burrito Brothers and other such “Cosmic American” music as Gram called it. Now we seem to have decided on Alt Country or Americana. Whatever it is, I like it.

Gram is responsible for evangelizing country music to his rock and folk music friends when country wasn’t cool. What they created is incredible. Probably the most important early rock convert was Keith Richards. The Stones responded with this tune. I think Gram’s melancholy voice brings something that I’ve never heard from Mick Jagger.

Nouveau outlaw country songwriter and Nashville expat Joe Maynard does double duty as a rare book dealer, hence the tongue-in-cheek band name. On this cd – his first with this particular crew – he comes across as sort of a hybrid of Townes Van Zandt, Tom Waits and David Allan Coe. Maynard built a reputation for gut-bustingly funny songs with his previous bands, the upbeat Illbillies and then the more traditionally oriented Millerite Redeemers. On this cd, he’s as surreal as always but considerably more somber, and the jokes are darker as well. Musically, it rocks pretty hard in places: Ryan Adams’ production is terse and imaginative on both the upbeat stuff and the quieter numbers. The album’s best song, Elvis Museum is a prime example, Adams’ piano quiet and determined over a swaying backbeat, and it’s a genuine classic. It’s quintessential Maynard: the museum in question turns out to be a pretty pathetic excuse for one, the King’s portrait between “a sinkful of dishes and a toilet stall,” but this offhandedly savage satire of celebrity worship still manages to be sympathetic. Likewise, the opening track, Pine Box, a body in a coffin taking a sarcastic view of the preacher and the pageantry outside. After a gentle, rustic beginning lit up with some vivid violin from Naa Koshie Mills (also of the Disclaimers, and the musical star of the album), lead guitarist Mo Botton rips out a nasty garage rock solo.

Maynard hails from Brooklyn these days and uses that milieu for several of the songs, including the surreal Cowboys of St. Bartholomew – about a gay street couple – and the deadpan, reverb-drenched Rocky and Bessie, an ominously bizarre tale of a couple of stray dogs in Fort Greene. He also sets the poem Shallow Water Warning – a drowning recalled by the victim – by legendary outsider poet Helen Adam to a swaying Tex-Mex-inflected tune. Otherwise, the titular redneck girl of the big bluesy raveup isn’t exactly what she seems, the drugs bid a fond farewell to the body they ravaged in the lullaby Dear Addict, and the rest of the world hides and surfs the web while the world burns – literally – on the Velvets-esque apocalypse anthem It’s Been a Great Life, Botton adding some aptly furious Sterling Morrison chord-chopping on the outro. The cd closes with a heartfelt tribute to Maynard’s lapsteel player and flatmate, the late, great Drew Glackin (also of Tandy, the Jack Grace Band, Silos and numerous other A-list Americana bands). The whole thing is a richly lyrical, fearlessly good time, darkness notwithstanding. The band is also impressively good live. Maynard and the Musties play Sidewalk on Dec 4 at 8 PM.

Dave Loggins, American songwriter (cousin to Kenny Loggins)

Glenn Frey, American singer (Eagles)

The Monkees - Headquarters (Colgems, 1967)

By the late 60’s, The Artists Formerly (well, er, Still) Known As The Prefab Four were anxious to get out from under the oppressive thumb of meddlesome producers and cast off the crutches of session players to play their music, themselves. So, with the exception of a few studio musicians and a new producer to round their own skills out, that’s what they mostly did for 1967’s Headquarters. Mostly.

As such, maybe somewhat surprisingly, Headquarters sits fairly comfortably among the jangly, vocal-harmony rooted, folk-pop-psych outfits of the times, such as Buffalo Springfield, The Byrds, Moby Grape, and The Mamas and Papas. Even though it doesn’t contain any big hits or offer any evidence of undiscovered virtuosity, it makes for solid listening when the boys play to their strengths and their interests (but when they don’t….see below). The Monkees are The Monkees, for good and bad; while this record is no topical or artistic heavyweight, it holds some nice surprises and is far from a contrived embarrassment.

You’ll probably notice that I didn’t reference the one band who called The Monkees into existence: The Beatles. When it comes to the inevitable presence of songs with a decidedly British-Invasion bent, things get a little less laudatory from here, and the usual suspect is involved: Davy Jones. While the songwriting and pedal steel of Nesmith shine (and point to further country-rock exploration with the First National Band), Dolenz belts out “No Time” with convincing R&B fervor, and Peter Tork reveals his West-Coast hipness with the bouncy “For Pete’s Sake,” token-Brit Jones mostly disappoints with his Beatles-pandering, occasionally loungey treacle (and, hey, I am a big fan of “Daydream Believer,” for instance, so I like him when I should). If The Monkees were an ersatz Beatles, then Jones is their Yoko Ono of sorts when it comes to their third album. Even though he has a few good vocal turns here, his songs mostly bring the effort down with their inherent (at best; ham-handed at worst) reminders of the manufactured roots and calculated origins of the group–it reveals the “plastic,” to use a popular word of the time. Overall, the album suffers both when the band overreaches for Summer of Love/psychedelic authenticity and when it overindulges in leaning on weak-tea Beatles facsimiles. They fare much better when following Nesmith’s country-rock impulses and their own new-found muses.

Well, chimpanzee that! It’s Monkee trivia:

• Harry Nilsson and Stephen Stills auditioned to be on the TV show
• Jack Nicholson directed their self-indulgently freaky 1968 movie Head; big fan and friend Frank Zappa makes a cameo to give Davy Jones some dubious advice.
• In an odd cosmic coincidence, Lemmy (Hawkwind, Motörhead) and The Monkees share a Hendrix connection: Jimi was among their opening acts during a tour in 1967.

J.D. Souther, American country rock guitarist and vocalist

The Eagles were the quintessential 70’s soft-country-rock band, an amalgam of the pure country-rock of Poco and the harmonies and jangle guitar-rock of the Byrds with far greater recording production supporting their obvious talents as performers and songwriters (Eagles playlist here). The Eagles defined the 70s L.A. soft pop-rock sound and opened the way for the 80s light MOR country-pop sound that members Don Henley and Glen Frey exploited with multi-platinum albums. In the 70s the Eagles produced five #1 singles, 14 Top 20 hits overall and six #1 albums (including two of the best selling albums of all time, 1975’s Eagles: Their Greatest Hits (1971-1975) and 1976’s Hotel California. By the end of 20th century, the Eagles were still going strong, although mostly as a huge selling retro-band, with an audience leaning toward the “classic rock” sounds of the 70s era the Eagles dominated. The band released sporadic reunion and “live” revival albums until Long Road Out Of Eden, their first album of any kind in 13 years and their first studio release in over 20 years, came out two years ago on October 30, 2007. Long Road Out Of Eden is a throw-back collection of songs that mirror their peak years (and initially available only at Wal-Mart Stores, the colossal global discount retailer). In an age where great rock music is limited, even a retro-album like Long Road Out Of Eden is a relief. It’s on my buy list and recommended for any Eagles fan or lover of 70s soft-rock.

Long Road Out Of Eden is now available (not just at Wal-Mart) as download tracks from iTunes (click here) and as a CD from Amazon (click here).

No sé que mecanismos psicosensoriales se activan cuando tenemos esos encuentros tan mágicos como misteriosos en que experimentamos la sensación de “reconocer” algo que en realidad vemos por primera vez. No me refiero al “déjà vu”, no, sino a algo más consistente, de orden más simbólico que fisiológico. ¿Nunca habéis tenido la sensación de que os salía al paso un libro que era justo el que necesitabais leer? A mí me ha sucedido también con ciertas personas y, cómo no, con la música, siempre, eso sí, en ocasiones ciertamente excepcionales que con el tiempo se han vuelto… particularmente reveladoras.

A estos encuentros misteriosos  e hipersignificativos los surrealistas los etiquetaban de AZAR OBJETIVO, creo que Breton venía a definirlo como “la alineación del exterior, de la circunstancia, con el deseo íntimo e inconsciente” –cito de memoria, pero por ahí van los tiros–. Vulgarmente yo diría que, en ocasiones, he tenido la sensación de calzarme los zapatos de mi destino, de estar en el lugar adecuado y en el momento adecuado, algo así, de re-tomar el camino, MI camino. Como he dicho antes, es algo que me ha sucedido puntualmente también con algunos músicos, uno de ellos, el gran Townes Van Zandt.

Una tarde como otra cualquiera fui a casa de mi amiguete O. –de quien por cierto la vida ha acabado distanciándome– y, como tantas otras veces, me senté en el sofá del salón de su casa mientras él se dedicaba a pincharme discos y más discos haciendo a cada uno de ellos la consabida introducción –los conociminetos musicales de O. eran, son, enciclopédicos–. No recuerdo que fue lo que dijo de Townes antes de posar la aguja en el surco, pero sí recuerdo perfectamente la canción: “Summer Thursday” un prodigio country folk de arrebatadora desnudez que es además un ejemplo perfecto de la sensibilidad única, del lirismo magullado de Townes. Me quedé atónito: la breve intro de la armónica, la melodía frágil y arpegiada, y esa voz tan sincera, doliente sin el menor punto de afectación, honesta, honda, sentida… Me quedé mudo, y os juro que en 30 segundos de canción ya sabía perfectamente que Townes era uno de los grandes, y que en ese preciso momento estaba comenzando una relación que sería prolongada, fructífera y honda con la obra del cantautor tejano y con su sombra.

Lo mejor de estos encuentros “mágicos” con intérpretes y compositores tan alucinantes como Townes son sus efectos: a mí, descubrir a tipos como Van Zandt, me devuelve, no sé bien como decirlo, me devuelve algo así como “la mirada bautismal”, lo que me rodea, e incluso mi memoria, recuperan el brillo y la frescura del misterio y la primera vez, el sinsentido retrocede y se agazapa en un rincón oscuro de mi conciencia, y la vida recobra su capacidad para fascinarme. No soy católico, no soy apostólico y mucho menos romano, soy un ateo bien cuajado y mallorquín, pero reconozco que la presencia de la belleza, particularmente cuando ésta adquiere una forma modesta y sencilla como pueda ser una canción popular, me redime inoculándome cierta dosis de ingenuidad recobrada, permitiéndome asomarme a una dimensión de la existencia que, aún a riesgo de que se me malinterprete, calificaré de “sagrada”, no hallo mejor manera de expresarlo.

Bueno, dejando al lado intrincadas cavilaciones y los efectos siempre nocivos de la sobreinterpretación, diré más llanamente que la música de Townes Van Zandt es una de esas cosas que hacen que mi vida merezca ser vivida, esto está mejor.

El vídeo al que enlazo es algo largo pero os recomiendo que lo veáis entero, es sinceramente emocionante. Está extraído de un documental titulado “Heartworn Highway”, aunque también forma parte del metraje del muy recomendable documental sobre Townes Van Zandt titulado “Be here to love me”. Creo que está grabado en Super 8, tal vez en 16 mm: Townes, su novia y unos amigos están en su caravana, bebiendo y echando el rato, y uno de los presentes, un negro viejo con una mirada que parece haber destilado todo el sufrimiento de vivir en una ternura indecible, comienza a hablar de su vida, de su oficio y su trabajo, de su experiencia, y acaba haciendo un reflexión sobre la priba ciertamente sabia, los que hayan tenido problemas con el alcohol sabrán a qué me refiero. Entonces Townes se arranca y derrama con pasmosa y espeluznante naturalidad esa maravilla de canción que se titula “Waitin’ around to die”. Lo que sucede a continuación, en fin, eso hay que verlo.

Pues eso, espero que disfrutéis tanto como yo cada vez que veo esta secuencia. Adjunto también la letra para que el goce sea completo. Salud compañeros, y ahí va:

Sometimes I don’t know where this dirty road is taking me
Sometimes I can’t even see the reason why
I guess I keep on gamblin’, lots of booze and lots of ramblin’
It’s easier than just a-waitin’ ’round to die

One-time friends I had a ma, I even had a pa
He beat her with a belt once cause she cried
She told him to take care of me, she headed down to Tennessee
It’s easier than just a-waitin’ ’round to die

I came of age and found a girl in a Tuscaloosa bar
She cleaned me out and hit it on the sly
I tried to kill the pain, I bought some wine and hopped a train
Seemed easier than just a-waitin’ ’round to die

A friend said he knew where some easy money was
We robbed a man and brother did we fly
The posse caught up with me, drug me back to Muskogee
It’s two long years, just a-waitin’ ’round to die

Now I’m out of prison, I got me a friend at last
He don’t steal or cheat or drink or lie
His name’s codeine, he’s the nicest thing I’ve seen
Together we’re gonna wait around and die

Kathleen Edwards es una mujer canadiense de treinta añitos que se está abriendo paso a codazos entre los singer/songwriters más destacados del alt-country. Su sonido es potente y lustroso, con tantas ascendencias roots y americana como indies, y el acabado es brillante, casi mainstream, sin que ello le reste, por una vez, un ápice de pegada al resultado final. Escuchándola resuenan en la cabezota del oyente ecos de Petty y los Heartbreakers, de Lucinda Williams, pero también del indie y el power pop de los noventa (estoy pensando en bandas como los Gin Blossoms o en el adult oriented pop de tipos como Freedy Johnston). Hay que destacar sus habilidades como letrista, que le permiten mostrar un perfil personal y femenino sin dejar de servirse sabiamente de los tópicos rock.

El vídeo al que enlace es el single que da título a  su segundo y penúltimo elepé Back to me (2005). En él, la Edwards, espigada choni que hace pensar en una Katharine Hepburn en versión rockera, descarga un impecable temazo de mid-class rock de sonido brillante y actitud despechada. Los actores invitados dejan patente el pedigrí de la moza: el menda es ni más ni menos que John Doe, fundador de la mítica banda angelina de punk X, que en la actualidad se dedica a explorar sonidos más clásicos en compañía de gente como la propia Edwards o los excelsos The Sadies (con quienes acaba de publicar el magnífico Country Club); y la poli pelirroja es Polly Parsons, retoña del mítico Gram Parsons, quien pasa por ser el inventor del country enchufado.

En fin, que la Edwards sabe lo que se hace y se lo hace, además, francamente bien: tiene cosas que decir, estilo para decirlas, y recursos de sobras para enhebrarlas en canciones impecables. Con Neko Case y Jenny Lewis forman –en el presente– un trío que promete un futuro más que esperanzador. Ladies & gentlemen, Kathleen Edwards, “Back to me”.

Creedence Clearwater Revival (CCR) – one of my all time favorite bands, with unforgotten evergreens such as “Bad Moon Rising“, “Proud Mary” and many others. A good reason to dedicate today to the CCR mastermind – John Fogerty.

As always, I recommend to read the related Wikipedia article and from there you even get more information (if you are interested) if you follow various provided links to his website and other resources with further articles and interviews.

John Fogerty was an important influence on my development as a musician. His guitar style is somewhere in between Rock’n'Roll, Blues and Country, but actually not really one of it… he has his own John Fogerty signature style, a great feel for melody and he is only playing what the song really needs. Also his voice is awesome. It sounds kind of high and a bit shrill, but cool at the same time. In the meanwhile he became already 64, but he still sounds young and powerful, actually even better and more mature as in earlier years. In fact, he has a good singing technique and he is fit – he was saying in an interview that runs every day (if he can) 6 miles.

However, what I really admire, is his ability to write amazing songs (that once heard never leave your ear for the rest of your life) with just three chords and with very simple earthy lyrics. Songs like “Bad Moon Rising” still sound fresh after almost 40 years.Actually it is one of those songs that every musician on the planet can play without rehearsal… no doubt, John Fogerty is, besides the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, the most important songwriter of rock standards.

Besides his old songs, he has furthermore some awesome new ones. If you ever have the chance, check out the album “Blue Moon Swamp“. It is a must if you like nice guitars music – and the mix of Bob Clearmountain (my favorite all time sound engineer) is a masterpiece anyway.

Well, in the video below you see  “Rambunctious Boy” from the Blue Moon Swamp album played in a kind of living room unplugged jam of John Fogerty and country rock superstar Keith Urban. These two guys are really cool and amazingly grooving with their two acoustic guitars and two great voices – I am a fan of both

Find similar articles at Igi’s Music Special

Get Tickets for Concert in the U.S.

Lip-synching on music shows aired from a TV studio was an accepted practice in the 60s and early 70s. But a growing trend toward “real” live performances is evidenced by Poco’s rendition (click here) of “A Good Feelin’ To Know” on a TV/radio simulcast with album-rock station WPLJ-fm in New York in 1972. The song was the title track to the fifth studio album from one of the longest running country-rock bands. The line-up pictured here was their early 70s version. Founding member, lead vocalist and guitarist Richie Furay would leave in a year, bassist Tim Schmit went to the Eagles in 1977 and drummer George Grantham quit in 1978. Guitarists Rusty Young and Paul Cotton continued on with various replacements in the 80s and the band continues performing to this day. Poco is in the Playlist Vault at DrRock.com and A Good Feelin’ To Know is available from Amazon and iTunes.

B.W. Stevenson, American singer (d. 1988)

Billy Joe Shaver.

Not a household name, perhaps, but together with his son Eddy as the band Shaver he’s responsible for one of my favourite country rock albums.

Sure, as a born-again Christian, Billy Joe’s a bit too religious for my taste but before he was ‘born again’ he seems to have lived a hell of a life and every so often his alcoholism resurfaces and gets him into all sorts of trouble.

A troubled and complex character.

It probably comes as no surprise that it’s the guitar playing of his son Eddy that mainly attracted me to the band Shaver.

Eddy had (yes, had) a great touch – a nice mellow overdriven Strat tone and a definite talent for combining rock and country playing in any proportion you can think of.

Unfortunately, however, Eddy’s no longer plugging in and wailing as he became yet another smackhead rock casualty in 2001.

Equally unfortunate is the fact that there’s not that much of Eddy is to be found on film, but there is this that I found on Youtube and shows him pretty much at his peak.

Enjoy.