This Is Your Song For....April 24th, 2013: The Rascal King (Live) by The Mighty Mighty Bosstones

Back In Plaid....

I guess it’s appropriate, after what happened last week, that my randomizer comes up with a track from one of my favorite Boston bands playing one of their bigger hits at a legendary show.  And it’s a track about one of the most notorious Boston politicians who ever lived, an example of the sort of graceful-but-tough-as-hell sensibilities we all saw on display during that horrific experience.

Let’s Face It, the album where ‘The Rascal King’ first appeared, was as big as the Bosstones would ever get.  Partially bouyed by one of those periodic surges of interest in ska music that hits the cultural zeitgiest every decade or so and bolstered by the eminently hummable lead single ‘The Impression That I Get,’ the album gave the band extensive exposure on alternative rock, AOR and--to my surprise at the time--Top 40.  This was just as the creep of the dance sludge that passes for Top 40 was gaining a foothold, so Dickey Barrett and his crew hit at the very last moment where pop music was open to alternative styles, and they exploited it like their life depended on it.  The success of Let’s Face It prompted the Bosstones to release a video compilation, appear on Saturday Night Live and--God Help Me--the prime-time Sesame Street special Elmopalooza, where they danced with the Count.

Yes.  I watched a Sesame Street television special.  Deal with it.

This comes from the excellent album Live From The Middle East, a recording of their annual year-end Boston concert-cum-holiday party.  The album as a whole gives you a great sense of the energy and enthusiasm that the Bosstones brought to their performances, and it’s a great little artifact of how the band was at the height of its power.  It’s also a snapshot of the classic line-up before the group fractured, as slowly over the next three years members left to form other bands or, in one case, to obtain their degree from Brown University.

Apparently, the song is about James Michael Curley, a notoriously corrupt but notoriously popular Boston politician who served as mayor four times (he was once re-elected mayor while serving a prison term!) and ultimately became Governor of Massachusetts.  The song is peppered with oblique and direct references to Curley’s life; Hell, the chorus begins by citing both the title of his autobiography and the Edwin O’Conner novel that was inspired by his colorful career.  Curley’s impact on Boston life is still clear to this day, and the Bosstones manage to address how ambivalent his former constituents are about him.  The song, after all, never comes out on one side or another about whether Curley was a crook or a hero...as Barrett puts it, ‘in the end they knew his name,’ and that might be all that matters.  I wonder if a parallel could be made between Curley’s tightrope walking between rogue and saint, and the way the Bosstones briefly did the same thing, striving towards popularity while trying to stay faithful to their ska-core roots.

After a break in the mid Oughts, the Bosstones are back on tour--and you can see Dickey Barrett every night on Jimmy Kimmel Live, where he plays Ed MacMahon to Jimmy’s Johnny Carson.

Here’s the video, which features footage from the film based on that Edwin O'Conner novel, The Last Hurrah.

And because I feel like it, here's Dickey dancing with the Count...

This Is Your Song For....April 3rd, 2013: Summer In A Small Town by Cleaners From Venus

If there ever was a Doctor Who of pop...this is him.

Most of you have never heard of The Cleaners From Venus (well, most of you who aren’t hardcore power pop fans, or deep devotees of 80‘s British pop in general).

There’s a reason for that.  Cleaners was primarily the brainchild of former Plod frontman Martin Newell.  Newell was so traumatized by the way Plod has been mistreated by its label that he retreated into Britain’s music underground.  Thus, The Cleaners self-distributed their albums in an age when self-distribution was difficult to make work, sending out cassette tapes that could be bought through ads in music magazines.  Newell, mostly with drummer Lol Elliot, managed to produce nine albums between 1981 and 1990, and each one is a weird microcosm of popular music styles--a typical Cleaners From Venus track, even with all the tape hiss, can sound like something out of the Britpop invasion, or the Mod movement, or classic middle-period New Wave.  It’s bizarrely timeless in its OCD-like tendency to jump the tracks, and any of these albums are recommended.

Which brings us to today’s song, which was taken by a retrospective collection called Golden Cleaners, and shows that Newell was an excellent storyteller as well.  Starting with Martin’s chant of ‘not go mad, not go mad, not go mad’ it tells the story of a traveling salesman spending a day in the titular small town and sitting in a cafe reflecting on how the music he loved as a child has mutated into something that terrifies him.  He keeps telling himself he can leave any time he wants, but seems horribly fascinated with how punk rock, psychobilly and other forms that make up the new soundtrack of this season indicates that ‘the Golden Age is not the present one.’  We get the impression that this man wants to escape from this world, but is resigned to continuing to move through it.  

What continues to floor me is how this feels so much like something out of the 90‘s years before the pioneers of the Britpop movement picked up their instruments.  Newell’s vocals are, in their phrasing, so reminiscent of such bands as Carter USM that it’s uncanny that they were recorded ten years prior.  The shimmery guitar work seems to evoke the cleaned-up sound of the Jesus and Mary Chain--except that I’m pretty sure that the J&M Chain wouldn’t popify itself for another couple of years from when the original source of this song, Under Wartime Conditions, was released.  There are half a dozen other bands I can cite--but almost all of them are bands that didn’t reach prominence until years later.  This song, and other Cleaners songs, seem to have tapped into something universal that we all find in pop music.  Newell, in his desire to pursue his own muses, may have hit upon this weird Cradle of British Pop Civilization, and we’re all the better for it.

Martin Newell, God Bless Him, is still alive and out there.  While his last musical contribution of note is a jazz album from 2004, The Light Programme, he continues to write (both musically and literary) and provides inspiration for all the wonderful artists who decide to travel down more unconventional paths when getting their music to the public.

Obviously, there are no official videos extant--but here’s the song anyway. 

This Is Your Song For....March 27th, 2013: Full Moon Rising by Neil Halstead

If you're going to go roots....you might as well go all the way.

Today’s song brings up something that intrigues me.  Neil Halstead, who wrote and played this very moody and atmospheric little piece of rootsy, folky tuneage, was one of the founding members of Slowdive.  Slowdive was one of the leading purveyors of showgaze, a musical genre that I talked about somewhat recently.  But once Slowdive broke up as bands that aren't interested in sucking the nostalgic dry of their money inevitably do, Halstead went off to form Mojave 3.  Mojave 3 is a country folk outfit, and Halstead’s solo work has continued on this path.

What is it about alternative rockers that they want to return to roots music once they strike off on their own?  There are far too many who have done this--John Doe did this after he left X, Bob Mould did this after Husker Du crumbled, Kristen Hersh did this when Throwing Muses was in flux...the list goes on and on.  I’m sure you can come up with four or five examples yourself.  Is it because there is this perception of folk, bluegrass, country and other ‘roots’ genres as being ‘purer’ forms?  Is it because writing music in a less tortured form acts as a palette cleanser, preparing these people for whatever their muse has in store for them next?  Is it a desire to cut through the red tape and make it just the singer and the song, stripped of layers of noise and production, so he or she can better communicate with the listener?

Granted, some of this impetuous to go down these country roads may just be a need to liberate oneself.  I talked recently on an episode of Maurice Bursztynski’s excellent Love That Album about how going solo liberated Stan Ridgway to follow his true passion for telling stories with his song, and I suspect something similar motivated Halstead.  There’s no denying that Halstead’s voice is suited to the stripped down arrangements of folk--this song features only him and his guitar, allowing us to soak in this evocative tale of a man and a woman at the exact moment where their relationship disintegrates.  The way Halstead switches from being accusatory to resigned to warning his now former paramour that she might find out what she wants isn't for the best is seamless, all bolstered by the wonderful guitar work.  It’s at turns beautiful and dreadful, as I imagine such a moment would feel to a lover giving up the fight.

There are times I wonder if these sudden changes in direction work (the decision of alt-pop darlings The Popinjays to become roots folkers with their third album confounds me to this very day, but that’s a story for another time)...but when they work, like with Neil Halstead, it’s magic.

Here’s a video.

This Is Your Song For....March 14th, 2013: Welcome To England by Tori Amos

Somehow I don't think she's going to let you in on
the joke....

Ahhh, yes...it’s time to finally address an artist I’ve referenced many times in the course of this blog (like here and here), an artist I’ve had a rather odd relationship with.

There was a time--namely, in the early years of her solo career--where I had an intense crush on Ms. Amos.  In a way, I guess it’s understandable, as Amos was something of a stand-in for every alterna-geek chick of that period.  And those early albums--Little Earthquakes, Under the Pink, Songs From The Choirgirl Hotel, etc--were very nuanced and had a lot of that sweet-melody-with-dark-center stuff that I loved, plus many of the songs had a storytelling element that appealed to me.

(Okay, it also didn’t hurt that she was a redhead with off-kilter looks who played a piano like she was fucking it, either.  Or that she had this kinda purry/growly thing she liked to do with her voice.  Or...

Okay, maybe there’s still a lil’ bit of that crush still left alive in me.)

As we moved into a later period of her career where her whimsy seemed to overtake her darkness, I stopped following her career as closely--after all, as I’ve stated elsewhere, if I want my artists to evolve I have to accept that they might evolve into something I won’t like.

Which brings us to Abnormally Attracted To Sin and this, the lead single off of that album.  Supposedly, this was going to be the first single Amos was going to release on her own before backing off and signing with Universal Republic, and it seems to mark a return to that period of hers I enjoyed so much.  Hell, it sounds sonically very, very much like an outtake from the albums cited above.  An ode to her adopted country--she moved to England with her then-boyfriend, now husband to gain a little privacy, believe it or not--it doesn’t quite reach the storytelling heights of the best songs off, let’s say, Choirgirl, but it has its moments.  I particularly like the way there seems to be some ambivalence in Amos’ lyrics about the city, admitting on some level that she still feels an outsider, that she’s stuck dancing a different dance from everyone around her, that she’s still stuck ‘bringing her own sun.’  This sense of otherness is emphasized by the way Amos frequently lapses into a broad version of her own southernness during the song.  And I admit that, after a couple of years of stuff about bees and cars and hardcore whimsy, it’s great to hear her wonder about how cold it’ll be when her heart bursts in the middle of the song.

It’s weird--for someone who was with Amos at the very start of her solo career, this song comes off as comfort food.  It’s a favorite artist doing the sort of music she did when I initially became enamored of her.  I don’t know if that’s necessarily a good thing--while her recent releases included Night of The Hunters, an album of fairy tale songs written in collaboration with her daughter that seems to be a return to her storytelling roots, it also included Gold Dust, her attempt to get in on that ‘artists re-record their greatest hits’ trend I find so loathsome (which I need to get a ‘Cover-versies’ out about soon)--but for what it is, I’m okay with it.  I just wonder if she’s decided to regress rather than continue with the evolution she seemed to be going through in the ‘00s...and I also don’t know which direction I’m rooting for.

Here's the video.  It's got lots of nice places in London in it...

This Is Your Song For....March 7th, 2013: New Deal by Martini Ranch

Yep...the guy from NEAR DARK, the chick from the B-52s...
and that other guy.

Did you know Bill Paxton was in a band?  It’s true...

Of course, I didn’t know that Martini Ranch was a collaboration between everybody’s favorite cowardly Colonial Marine and Andrew Todd Rosenthal--although given how her backing vocals appeared everywhere on their one and only album, Holy Cow!, I think it’s safe to give the B-52's Cindy Wilson a seat at their table as an official member as well--for some time.  At first, I just knew they were responsible for this cool new wave-y song with Devo-ish pretensions called 'How Can The Laboring Man Find Time For Self Culture?’ that was play a lot on U-68, the Jersey-based local music video station that challenged MTV for a brief time.  Their video captivated me, which made their album a must pick-up for me....and then when I learned Paxton was one of the vocalist, I was sold.

‘New Deal’ is the first cut off the album, and it does what a first cut should do--propulse the listener into the band’s style, hook him and get him ready for what he’s about to listen to.  ‘New Deal’ is very much dance pop in a new wave style with serious overtones of the Church of the Sub-Genius philosophy that infused Devo’s canon.  And that Devo sort of double-speak isn’t here just because Bob Casale produced this album and played on it along with Mark Mothersbaugh and Alan Meyers; this is something that infused all of Martini Ranch’s songs, and helps set them apart from similar sounding acts that sprung up in the mid-to-late 80‘s.

There is a very brief spoken word segment that starts the song (unlike, let’s say, the one that precedes the album version of ‘Laboring Man...’, it’s far too brief to call it a skit), and I wonder if that’s the influence of hip-hop.  Many of the other songs on the albums contain what could pretty much be called ‘skits’ at the front of them.  The song itself could be construed as Martini Ranch’s mission statement, exhorting the listener to prepare for change, to save his soul by buying into the band’s ‘new deal,’ where everyone gets to judge themselves by what they feel.  The transformational aspect of this song is a particular obsession of the band--other songs on the album include a paean to the tearing down of the Berlin Wall, a novelty number about a fat-burning formula, and, of all things, a cover of ‘Richard Corey.’

(And this isn’t counting the, to the best of my knowledge,the never-released song ‘Brain Dead’ that the band recorded for the end credits of Bill Paxton’s low-budget film of the same name, a film all about mental transformation.)

To the best of my knowledge, Martini Ranch just...stopped existing in 1991.  Robinson formed a new, jazz-influenced band called Swifty’s Bazaar and is recording a second album.  As for Mr. Paxton, he continues to be a great lil’ actor, expanding into directing with Frailty.

Here is the song....

...and because I like you, and them, so much, here's the video for 'Reach,' which features the hottest director eeeeevah, Kathryn Bigelow getting her Clint Eastwood on....

This Is Your Song For...February 24th, 2013: Olivia by The Mainliners

They're looking Mick Jagger, but feeling Ray Davies...

This week...Swedish Garage Pop!

Yes, there is Garage Pop, and it is in Stockholm, Sweden.  The Mainliners wear their influences on their sleeves--there's some MC5 in here, some Kinks, some Rolling Stones--and it's not hard to envision them side by side with fellow countrymen The Hives as a double bill.  Of course, The Hives, as fun as they are, never had amazingly sweet piano breaks in their songs like this one had, nor did they layer in what seems to be a radio call in their song like they did with this one.

But here's the thing about this song, from their 2007 self-titled album...even though the garage rock sensibilities are very evident, they can't help but be popsters.  Even with the Mick Jaggerism that lead singer Robert Billing forces onto this song about love-through-hardship, even with the hardcore guitar riffs and the martial drum beat, The Mainliners can't help but generate a decidedly melodic piece of rock that, quite frankly, would not seem out of place in an arena rock band's set--and that's not meant as a slam in any way.  And they do it without losing the energy that makes The Hives so much fun; it's just that the energy becomes transformed, being just as propulsive but more nuanced.  The Mainliners' music is just as fun, but more contemplative and majestic.

I have to assume that The Mainliners have broken up, as their last album was in 2009.  If that's not the case, I hope someone corrects me, because I want to hear more.

Here's the song....

This Is Your Song For...February 9th, 2013: Tomorrow On The Runway by Trespassers William

Look at her...no, don't look at her...

For today's song...shoegaze is alive and well, at least until recently.

And I'm glad for it.  I was one of those people who bought into the whole shoegaze/dream pop thing during that weird period in the 90's where anything and everything could claw its way onto the Billboard Top 100.  I came through my admiration of the form legitimately, after renting out a VHS (Remember VHS?  Big, boxy thing with a black tape in it that showed you pretty pictures on your television?) showcasing three bands from Creation Records.  Since Ride and My Bloody Valentine were two of those bands, I was willing to look into this further.  That led to a brief and intense music crush on Miki Berenyi of Lush (culminating in a rather strange interview I conducted that seemed more about how much Miki loved horror movies and wanted me to recommend some she might not have seen in the attic/dressing room of the old Continental night club here in New York, but that's another story for another time...I seem to have this propensity for getting into these situations with my musical crushes), which of course morphed into a love of Britpop when that band decided to follow that path....but I don't think I ever lost my love of this sort of stuff.  This is the music of whimsey and woolgathering, a music that allows you to drift without losing you; it's always holding your hand, keeping you safe while maintaining your general sense of sleepy well-being.  This is the music for the misunderstood artistic type in all of us.

I first came across Trespassers William when I heard a cover they did of the Suzanne Vega/Joe Jackson collaboration 'Left of Center'--although, truth be told, I probably heard them once or twice before, as they were a darling of the WB for a while.  And I can see why shows such as Buffy and One Tree Hill loved them.  Like previously discussed WB soundtrack princess Rachel Yamagata, Matt Brown and Anna-Lynne Williams have that certain ethereal quality, coupled with Williams' breathy vocals, that are perfect for scenes of this season's Pretty White Girl to angst on in her Pretty White Girl Bedroom.

This is actually pretty straightforward.  It's a song about our P.O.V. character missing her loved one, and regretting not saying things to him when they were face to face (her not wanting her voice 'to go out over the air').  I get the impression that the separation is both rather vast, and rather recent...that maybe he 'left the darkness' just the night before to leave her alone.   There's the implication that there's something holding her back from joining him wherever he's gone--the lyrics seem to indicate a fear of flying, but it can also be interpreted given some of the references elsewhere that it's a more personal fear--a fear of intimacy, of getting close to her object of desire.  What does make the song different is, of course, the melody, which is waltz-like, languid, sensual without being sexual (you know, like a WB soap opera), dancing around the listener without touching him, preferring instead to just smile wanly at him in chilly enticement.

Trespassers William disbanded last year, leaving us a two-disc B-Sides-and-Rarities collection called Cast as their parting gift for us.  You can find both this song and that cover of 'Left Of Center' there.  Both Williams and Brown continue to pursue music, Williams as part of the duo Ormonde and Brown as a performer and producer for several groups.

There's no video for either of the songs I cited above--but here's one for another cover from the band...a cover of everyone's favorite Movie Executive from my podcast Better In The Dark....