Archive for the 'Classic Rock' Category

Me and My Arrow-Harry Nilsson

I’d love for the ‘fork to review this these days from a new band. You could flip a coin on the 8.5 GENIUS/5.1 DERIVATIVE ASS score. I heart this.

Tired of Waiting-The Kinks

Kind of like the polite flipside of the Stones “Satisfaction”. Kinks songs are popping up the last few years all over commershes and stuff, but I don’t sweat it, I hope they are making bank. Totally classic.

What’s Next to the Moon-AC/DC

Not even inscrutable totally standard, terrible AC/DC misogynist lyrics (BUT HE LOVES WOMEN!!!). Sadly, as usual, Angus craps out a footlong vegemite sandwich loaf of chunky riffage and I am hooked. It is a bad, bad habit.

A Quick One While He’s Away-The Who

Kind of wanky some might conclude, but total genius. To be honest, I’ve always thought The Who were fine, but the sound is always so clean it was hard for me to understand for what purpose this band was once “the loudest on Earth.” I heard a bootleg “Live at Fillmore East” on the radio and my mind was changed. To compare we have two versions of the epic “A Quick One While He’s Away.” Please note there are only three people playing instruments, and yet the band does not sound like Rush, they sound good. You might note a slight Beach Boys influence, yet instead of using a studio to create the different mini-vignettes within the opera, they just kind of happen.

Here’s the Who at Monterey Pop (awesome, very clean):

For comparison, though, here’s the same song live at the Fillmore East (1968), where you can sense how much more powerful they could be. Pete’s still playing super cleanly, but there is a muscularity there under the 60’s tone, he’s playing the Who’s sound, but it is more raw and crunchy. What is evident is how unbelievably well they performed. I mean Zep (whether you like them or not) could show flashes of awesome but I think it is clear they phoned it in sometimes.

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Sin City-AC/DC

First through third of all, Angus Young is totally insane. Fourth and Sixth, Bon Scott looks like an odd cross between Luke Wilson and maybe Charles Manson (the eyes?). Fifth, this song is total bar rock, and it doesn’t even waste its time being the usual AC/DC sleazy. The kind that makes you actually consider banging your head, the riffs aren’t really just guitar- they’re more like blunt force shots to the gut. The older I get, the more I relish old, old AC/DC when it comes on the wiener rock station. From 1978’s Powerage I believe. Bon doesn’t really rock the mic, but his second hand Freddie Mercury moves are more than enough because Angus is a buzzsaw up there on stage. Yikes. Angus looked 40 when he was 20 and he probably looks a billion when he’s a million. As discussed previously, the guy just craps awesome chunky rock riffs. This may make me uncool. Good! Eat the DC, cobags!

Don’t Bring Me Down-The Animals

For whatever reason, the Animals are exceptionally blameworthy™ in certain respects, in various outlets, or at least this sentiment of dudely getting done wronged attests. I still love the Animals sound, though. This song isn’t quite “It’s My Life” but there aren’t women as hunting trophies (wtf?) in this performance, either.

Tangerine-Led Zeppelin

Sometimes you just gotta go with it. The song that most predicts “Stairway to Heaven” and every other electrified rock cheese ballad to infinity. This is not to say that it isn’t awesome. What are you going to do? How can we be immeasurably cooler than you all the time?

The Oogum Boogum Song-Brenton Wood

This is a bummer because the You Tube is the karaoke vid. UPDATE, just got it with the p-love playa!

BW is Capt. Smooth. He is so smooth that he can slink together a pile of usual cliches, but then smooth bomb you with “go on with your bad self.” Indeed!

CAPT FRICKIN SMOOTH!

Go on with your bad self.Well that shit don’t work.

Try this:

Tie Your Mother Down-Queen

First off. And second. How is Brian May’s Louis Quatorze hairdo so appropriate? Also, he a guitarist that bothered to create his own sound, even though it really is only window dressing for Freddie’s unstoppable theatrics. Somehow this is the leanest and meanest possible version of total rock excess there can possible be. It is both stripped-down and baroque. Thus, the oxymoron that is the genius of Queen.

Fox on the Run-The Sweet

I…I WANNA KNOW YOUR NAME!!!

Like ELO and Queen and the Rockford Files all in one tasty Hot Pocket of awesomeness. Let’s just say you could kiss that one button on the 8-track gah-bye. This song would make the dentist a good time. Everybody should love this song. Even total cobags. And I just realized who Cornershop stole a particular riff from. That song tomorrow.

It’s My Life-The Animals

This is the one I’ve been waiting for on You Tube. I think this is my fave Animals tune- a perfect distillation of their everything. I’m going to consider that the song is not as misogynistic as the set designer for this live clip. Jesus H. Chunderwagon on a triscuit- let’s put the Go-Go dancers as trophies on a hunting lodge wall! Those birds, always bringing Eric Burdon down! I would prefer to think that EB is really telling “The Man” to kiss off. Also, someone says he kind of forgets the words in this performance. I call it garage only because all the garage bands in the world kind of wanted to be the Animals. Luckily there’s not a backing tape that kept going all Ashlee Simpson on him. Twerpy little Eric Burdon could still eat Taylor Hicks like he was a tiny little oyster cracker.

Heartbreaker – Grand Funk Railroad (+ Contest!!!!!!)

It’s really easy to forget that before Grand Funk became the lame ass band associated with The Loco-motion and even worse efforts in the 1980s, they were actually grand and funky. And bluesy. Heartbreaker was written in 1969, when music was loud and good and stands up today as a truly kick ass song. The live version below if from 1974, and shows the band at its performing best. Note the epic Marc Knopfler-esque guitar solos, the drummer screaming his ass off, and your heart slowly slowly breaking.

As for the contest. What 2006 hit song is foreshadowed by heartbreaker? 10 points if you get it from the first 23 seconds of the song. 5 points if you get it in the first 1:03 of the song. 1.125 points if you need to hear the “Bringing me down” part of the chorus to get it. Oh and 1 million 3B dollars to the first correct answer.

Presuming as usual that I can’t embed it properly, the video is here:

OH WE GOTTA EMBED THIS

Twilight Zone-Golden Earring

For some reason I think Blue Girl would sing this in the car. First of all this song sounds much more new wave than I remember. Second of all, the video is awesome. Third of all, I had no idea what “uncensored” meant in relation to this video. This is a slab of 80s pop rock, cheesy because of its era, but relatively uncheesy when you compare it to its neighbors. Plus, you just kind of give in to it towards the end, because if it comes on the radio, odds are if the old school and today’s R and B station is playing the latter and can’t bail you out with the Daz Band or “Flashlight” or “Give it To Me, Baby” you’re gonna be listening to it. And then it is in your head.

Twilight Zone-Golden Earring

We Got to Get Out of This Place-The Animals

He could have easily played Mr. Evil Sexual Predator with that voice, but instead he goes for the grim reaper on this one, then the ray of sunshine amidst the desperation. Why were The Animals not hugerer? I really wanted “Its My Life”, but the ol’ You Tube search engine is emunificent in its largesse. Just got 50 Sailor Moon/Bon Jovi vids. Something about certain Animals hits are just jaw-droppingly good, and others are just meh. This one is amazing.

Bitch-Rolling Stones

Let us consider the sleaz-o factor once again of the 100% pure greasy sleaze that the Stones have perfected. Let us consider the use of horns on this track. Said horns are completely employed for sleaze. They exist as the finishing leer, the underlining of the obscene gesture, the come on, the successful come on, eventually. Let us compare these horns to the use of brass say on The Beatles “Martha My Dear”- they are merely an accoutrement, a little twist, a fill. Innocent. Even on “Got To Get You Into My Life”, they give some oomph, but it just seems so tame, so frankly Paul (not a bad thing). On the Stones song they are nothing more that the swinging of Mick’s dick. Not even “Puppetry of the Penis” but a May Day parade full of missile launchers covered in pork fat and dirt. The brass are the glue that keep the entire band on a monomaniacal course here, a course destined for we all know where. Mick’s pants.

It’s A Long Way to the Top (If You Want To Rock and Roll)

Obviously AC-DC revel in a cess pool or “retarded teenage sexuality” but get this clip, the boys do the whole U2 “we’re on a flatbed doing a video” like 500 years prior and they don’t even give a sh*t about getting people out for the shoot. They make sure they get some bagpipers, natch, but adoring public? Nah, they’ll just meet ’em at the party later. RAWK and you love it as Angus sledgehammers your brain out with what should be third grade crunch, except why didn’t you think of them first? Oh yeah, he craps out chunkier simple-minded riffs that you ever could, you’d need a lobotomy to reach his level of primal riffage. And he does it in his sleep. Yes, the band has two songs, four hundred versions of essentially “Highway to Hell” and two versions of “Who Made Who”, the second one being “Thunderstruck.” It matters not one bit.

Mr. Soul-Buffalo Springfield

The power of “rock” music can be seen in this video. Let me say for one moment that any sentence that talks about the power of “rock” renders the purveyor a cobag. Usually. But because of this video there is amnesty. The song is g** d***** teh sh*t. The total nonsensical nature of the lyrics paired with the insistence of the concrete and menacing rythym, with Neil Young in scary hitchhiker mode versus plaintive strumming mode on vocals, this song is an all time classic.

Case in point: in this performance, note the incredible cheesewad-ness of the host, Capt. Squaresville. Then the band starts in with their mild-mannered protest song “For What It’s Worth”, Stephen Stills nattily attired, seems almost quaint, almost too squeaky clean, another somnolent evenng on a show where Pat Boone probably performed the night before while Jim Morrison peed on some groupies at the Whiskey across town. A little while in, Neil comes to the front as if they unlocked the monster from the crypt, in full Pocahantas garb, looking like the lost Mountain Man just out of the psych-ward Summer theatre production of Jeremiah Johnson.

Then as if the flick of a switch, everything is different. The band starts into Mr. Soul. Stills becomes the prom king/hatted hustler who women would clamor over being scammed by- and he’s the sideman now. Neil Young man-child mountain guy, no possibility of being dorkier, just unloads. For goodness sake, all the parts here are complete munchwagon- I mean the drummer is one of those Keno boys from Antiques Roadshow, probably was still living with his moms back then, and now still. The sum of the parts is an undeniable classic. With no irony whatsoever, these boys are heroes if only for two or so minutes. And that doesn’t happen with just any bullsh*t. Perhaps this song was absolutely massacred/played to death back in the day, but I’d take this one over a lot of other tired classics, which of course the kids don’t know or care about anyway. I give you the nice little rock fossil Mr. Soul.

You’re Gonna Miss Me-13th Floor Elevators/A Cold Night For Alligators-Roky Erickson

We have first some high quality Nuggets-era garage awesomeness, extra special for Gregor Samsa. We’ll follow it up tomorrow with some more from this seminal era. You know, scratchy voiced, maybe some organ, guitar, bass, some dudes playing in their garage and singing about getting laid or getting dumped. Without that “Canadian” proggo crap. These bands had five albums out in the time it took John Bonham to really get going on longer versions of “Moby Dick”. Obviously, the coolest part of the song is the electric jug thingy.

13th Floor Elevators-You’re Gonna Miss Me

Here’s the lead singer of the above band, noted Austinite Roky Erickson. He’s a little bit infamous, he’s added a decidedly horror movie feel to the garage stylings of his tunes, plus he was pretty screwed up by a stay in a mental hospital after a Marijuana bust at the end of the 60s. It is pretty shocking what they would do to people back then. The guy is great. Thanks to Gregor for the suggestion. Hope you enjoy it. I’m sure Norbiz has lots of stories of hanging out with the Rokester in the desert waiting for the alien probing.

Roky Erickson-A Cold Night For Alligators

We Love You-The Rolling Stones

Under cover of thanking their fans for supporting them after a 1967 drug bust, Mick and Keith basically give the world a kiss off dressed with psychedelic sounding vocals, backed by John and Paul, dressed in mellotron. At it’s dark, stinky heart, however, there are some of the best oooooohs-oooooohs, stompy piano and what the druggy stench only superficially cloaks, that is the most punk song possible from a bunch of flower power slumming sleazoid millionaires. Possibly their most unheard and least listened to genius moment this side of “Monkey Man”.

The Bomber-The James Gang

The James Gang- these dudes were Freedom Rock before Freedom Rock even existed.

This song goes out to Twisty Faster, spinster aunt extraordinaire of patriarchy blaming fame at I Blame the Patriarchy. Twisty would clearly fathom the meaning of such a dedication, however for the rest of us, a little back story. Twisty has deigned to comment here one time more than this humble blog would ever deserve, that is to say once. She commented on a particular Friday Pooper Shooter where our computer lavished us with a particular Jethro Tull ditty “Minstrel in the Gallery” and Twisty mentioned an anecdote involving herb, dorm rooms and certain hippie-ish behavior.

Twisty now has a sitch that is attempting to abrogate her patriarchy blaming ability, which appears to be fueled by delicious tacos. We would like to deidicate to her this lost oh so jammy gem from Joe Walsh and the James Gang. Now, we realize that there is nothing more patriarchy than someone that has anything to do with the Eagles, but I would like the point out the length of this song (7:00) and the “mind-altering” guitar solo that incorporates Ravel’s Bolero (which led to the song being unavailable in the Bolero version for many years). Also, the drummer seems to be thumping on the skins like he’s wearing nothing but a marijuana leaf necklace, and Mr. Bass guy comes in like he’s smoking a pipe with stars in his eyes and then it gets all trippy. Since the chemo is undelightfully knocking Twisty on her delightfully snow white bottom, we were going to recommend this song and some medicinal Mary Jane. Alas, in our delay of implemeting Dedication Week here at Song of the Day/Three Bulls!, we find that she is happily returned to full vim and obstreperousness by seemingly similar sage advice. Rock on, TF!