rock – Page 13 – Know Your Music

Sunny Days Have Burnt A Path

Posted on June 29, 2002 by Joel D Canfield

I prefer lyrics that make me think. The banal repetitive lyrics of the average pop song are okay if they’re carried by a spectacular voice or accompanied by really good music. But intelligent or thought-provoking lyrics can get by with a lot less window dressing.

From my earliest childhood, this attitude has been influenced by the songs of Paul Simon. My perspective of the entire marketing field has always been colored by Simon’s “Big Bright Green Pleasure Machine” just as the first mental pictures I formed of New York were pleasant, happy images, wrapped around the 59th Street Bridge. Paul has always been introspective, and his lyrics are full of self-analysis, and, on occasion, the anguish and doubt which sometimes result. “Ten Years”, written for the anniversary of a television show (10 points if you can guess it) has meaning and value far beyond its origins. The singer looks back, noting the rapid passage of time, feeling a dearth of accomplishment; then, looks forward, wondering if the future holds more of the same.

Simon is a wordsmith. From the opening lines

 You are moving on a crowded street through various shades of people

through

 the sky turns dark as stone

to the final line

 sunny days have burnt a path across another season

he chooses slightly unusual descriptions for the mundane, the expected, and thereby makes them something entirely new and different. Simon’s voice is as simple as always; the musical accompaniment sounds much like an outtake from “Graceland”; but the lyrics make the song stand out among his works.

The song first appeared, in shortened form, on the Oprah Winfrey show. The full version is only available on Carnival“, an album to benefit the Rainforest Foundation, and featuring Sting, <James Taylor, The Chieftans, and others.

In spite of the bleak lyrics, the song feels hopeful. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but when he sings

 If you look into your future life ten years from this question, do you imagine a familiar light burning in the distance?

I do indeed imagine a familiar light, but it’s a light I’d like to see.

The Ox

Posted on June 28, 2002 by Joel D Canfield

John Entwistle, bass (and occasionally horn) player for The Who, died today (Thursday, 27 June), apparently of a heart attack. Entwistle was 57.

Iron Man

Posted on June 22, 2002 by Joel D Canfield

This morning I heard Black Sabbath’s “Iron Man” for the first time in almost thirty years. I was surprised that it appealed to me just as much as when I was twelve. I was also surprised at how exactly lead guitarist Tony Iommi sounded like Led Zeppelin‘s Jimmy Page during the same era. I never read an Iron Man comic, although I was vaguely familiar with the character. An Iron Man movie was planned a couple years ago, and according to some sources is due for release in about 2004.

Wonder if Black Sabbath will reunite to do the soundtrack? I’d prefer Peter Gabriel, myself.

Album Oriented Rock – Full Circle?

Posted on June 5, 2002 by Joel D Canfield

Back in 1968, the year before I moved to San Diego, a guy named Mike Harrison transformed a local radio station, and through it, radio as we know it today, with a concept he called ‘album oriented rock.’ Mike’s idea was to play all the good tracks from albums, not just the singles promoted by the record companies. If you’re under the age of 30, you don’t even know what I’m talking about, do you?

Long, long ago, radio stations played singles. They played what the record companies wanted to sell. And, for the most part, people listened like good little sheep. But by the end of the sixties, music had changed forever, and radio hadn’t followed suit. That is, until KPRI.

When my family arrived in San Diego in 1969, I was eight years old, and wasn’t even sure what rock music was. (My bio attempts to explain this idiosyncracy.) Almost immediately, my older brother Brett discovered KPRI, which was then considered ‘underground’ radio. Playing music unheard of even by many of those more familiar with rock than I, KPRI’s mission was to play what was good, not just what was already popular. I’d be lying to say I remembered any particular song from those days, but I do remember laying awake at night for as long as I could, afraid to fall asleep for fear I’d miss something amazing.

KPRI had competition. KGB, still a San Diego staple, was a much more interesting station back then. Unfortunately, they’re still playing the same 40 songs they played in the early 70s, but I seem to remember a few less weary tracks interspersed among the current playlist during my summers on the beach.

KPRI and I left San Diego the same year, 1983. At that time, I had started listening to a new station at the opposite end of the dial from the mighty 106.5 FM. But just before I moved to Texas, my new favorite station startled me by changing formats. Suddenly, I was hearing cacaphonous howling by things called ‘The Psychedelic Furs‘ and ‘The Cure‘ and who knows what else. Having listened to nothing but KPRI and KGB for almost 15 years, this new stuff the kids were listening to didn’t make sense to me at all.

That’s all changed, of course. In Texas, of all places, I was forcibly acquainted with The B-52s, Adam Ant, The Thompson Twins, OMD, and a host of singers, songwriters, and performers who might never have gotten airplay on the old KPRI (including The Furs and The Cure.)

And that’s another change. The old KPRI is dead and gone, but the call letters were recently resurrected. The last independent local station in San Diego, formerly Sets 102, has taken the call letters KPRI. They’ve long been one of the two stations in San Diego to play anything truly interesting. 91X, calling themselves ‘the cutting edge of rock’ is almost always the first to play whatever’s new, and I listen often, especially if my daughter Cheyenne is with me. But the personalities tend to cater to a younger crowd than I understand, and the music tends toward a harsher and more discordant section of the spectrum.

KPRI, on the other hand, plays a little of everything. Not a truly free-form station, all their offerings fall into the rock genre; they’re just not always easily pigeon-holed at a more granular level. It’s not surprising to hear Jonny Lang and Johnny A. followed by Deep Purple and Delirium. The jocks; um, personalities, are knowledgable for the most part, and obviously have a passion for the music they play.

It’s not underground by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s the only really intellectually driven radio station in San Diego these days.

Let’s hope someone decides to give them some competition. San Diego could use a little interesting radio.

Half Hearted

Posted on May 31, 2002 by Joel D Canfield

Whether or not he fronts the ‘best heavy metal band‘, Ian Anderson of Jethro Tull has proven repeatedly that his heart is in the write place. No; it’s not a typo, it’s just that some of us can put words to paper (or pixel) but very few can put their heart into those words.

More famous for their enthusiastic rock tunes, it’s the seemingly endless stream of quieter works which keep me captivated after all these years. Very few of Anderson’s acoustic compositions receive the ubuquitous airplay of “Aqualung” or “Locomotive Breath” but it’s those songs which are a truer picture of the man. I had the opportunity see Ian in a very small private venue, and during the show he talked about how those tunes were written. I had asked him if, when recording “Wond’ring Aloud“, he was already planning “Wond’ring Again” from “ Jethro Tull - Living in the Past Living in the Past” as a sequel. His answer was, “An excellent question; one, in fact, which I have never been asked before. Unfortunately, I have no idea what the answer is.”

He did discuss the little acoustic works in general. Frequently arriving at the studio long before his bandmates, he would start by recording the vocals and acoustic guitar for a song he was writing, and then decide that it sounded fine just like that. Since their agreement stated that only those performers actually included in a recording got paid for it, he realized it was financially lucrative to record on his own if he got the chance. The rest of the band, of course, would have preferred to be involved (and to get paid) and when the rest of “Wond’ring Aloud” was finally recorded, it was as a group, not a solo.

Tull’s second album “ Jethro Tull - Stand Up Stand Up“, released in 1969, is a trove of lost gems. Besides such classics as “Bouree”, “New Day Yesterday”, and “Nothing Is Easy”, there are at least three heart-wrenching quiet numbers which deserve infinitely more attention than they’ve received. I’ll be addressing only one, with a promise to return to the others as soon as I can.

“Look Into The Sun” closes what used the be called the first side of the album. Although the electric guitar plays a role in the tune’s sound, it has a very strong acoustic feeling, and was engineering in a way that maintains it. Opening with both guitars, but leaning heavily on the acoustic, Ian’s voice provides the primary melody, making it seem vital to really listen to the words; words telling us that, no matter how much one person loves, it takes two people to be in love.

 I had waited for time to change her. The only change that came was over me.

And, later,

 It's not easy singing sad songs when you can sing the song to make me glad.

Like Jude Cole, Anderson has been happily married for a very long time, but his lyrics make it clear that he fully understands the anguish of love lost, or perhaps, love never found.

Comment: ‘Singles’ (Outside the Gates of Cerdes)

Posted on May 28, 2002 by Joel D Canfield

Rudy writes concerning my mention of Robin Trower:

“I thought I’d never meet another Robin Trower fan! I’ve got a half dozen of his (vinyl) albums. He’s one of many great Toronto acts I was exposed to on local radio, and if any of them made it to bigger fame, I didn’t really take note (no pun intended), I just kept listening.” — rudy

While I’m Far From Home

Posted on May 24, 2002 by Joel D Canfield

Fish Out of Water

Posted on May 20, 2002 by Joel D Canfield

“Yes” has been around for over 30 years, releasing their eponymous first album in 1969. Of the five founding members, only two have remained with the band for their entire tenure: vocalist and lyricist Jon Anderson, (even Jon was missing once, supplanted by Trevor Horn of “The Buggles” on 1980’s release “Drama“), and bass player Chris Squire. But perhaps that’s because, without Squire, “Yes” literally wouldn’t be “Yes”, since he owns the name.

Squire is ocasionally listed as ‘lead’ bass player, as if there were more than one. Where most bassists are content to be part of the percussion section, thumping along with the drums, Squire, like Jack Bruce of “Cream” and Tony Levin of everywhere, plays leads, not just rhythym. “Yes” classics like “Roundabout ” and “Starship Trooper” just wouldn’t have had the same presence without Squire’s unconventional style.

Squire’s musical training was classical, in a sense. As a boy, he joined the church choir in order to be with a friend who had joined. Almost as if foreordained by the gods of music, the new choirmaster from Cambridge was a perfect mentor for the young Squire; so talented that he ended up at Charles and Diana’s wedding. According to Squire, their church choir became the best in England, travelling from church to church giving concerts.

Classical training, an ear for complex harmonies and construction, and proximity to the divine, are all evident in Squire’s only real solo album, “Fish Out of Water.” Released in 1975, consisting of only five tracks, it is a master work that few rock albums can match. Squire is joined by fellow “Yes” alumni Bill Bruford and Patrick Moraz, along with Andrew Pryce Jackman, arranger for Barbra Streisand, Michael Crawford, and more, and Mel Collins, frequently seen with Dire Straits, Alan Parsons, King Crimson, Clannad, and a host of others.

While Squire’s voice works well in his harmonies with Anderson and Howe on “Yes” tunes, on “Fish Out of Water” we see the fruits of his choir training. There is a precision and control in his singing which isn’t obvious until you listen for it. Each of the songs on “Fish” has long complex lyrical sections which require exact timing and phrasing to work with the syncopations and rhythmic complexities of the music. Chris is dead on, every time. His singing has a subtlety which does’t force itself to the fore; it must be sought out and discovered.

Each song flows into the next, as in a classical composition. Well, except for the break between side one and side two, since it was originally released on vinyl. (You see, kids, a long time ago, we didn’t have CDs, with all the music on one side. They made ‘records’ out of vinyl, and you had to stop halfway through the experience to turn it over and hear the other side. This resulted in anomalies like Johnny and Edgar Winter’s “Second Winter” having three sides. Honest it did.)

The songs:

“Hold Out Your Hand” – The opening notes of the album are the pipe organ of (I believe) St. Paul’s Cathedral in London. The bass jumps in right away to establish dominance, driving both the melody and rhythym. Not quite a pop tune, this was still the obvious single, in my opinion. The pipe organ solo is a rare effect which lends an ethereal air seconded by the strings. It flows without pause into
“You By My Side” – A beautiful love song, both lyrically and musically. The simplest of the album’s tunes. If “Hold Out Your Hand” was the obvious single, this should have been the follow up.
```
 "Here am I dreaming  I stand by myself Look and it's easy to see, that, I'm not the only one reaching for a new kind of wealth Reaching with nothing to hide And you by my side"
```
“Silently Falling” – Flutes, oboes, strings; then a single flute, trickling down to a pool below, then lilting back up to Chris’s voice. An eleven minute long work, it gradually turns from classical to a very “Yes” sounding prog rock tune. After establishing the new ‘rock’ theme, everything begins to wind up to a frenzy of organ, piano, bass, and drums; faster and faster, until suddenly – silence. Now, piano and horns, softly supporting Squire’s quiet voice, leading us through a reprise of the opening theme and into a fusion of the two themes. “Falling” depends much on the piano for its feel. It doesn’t sound like a complex piece in spite of its length and the varying thematic segments. One of only two tracks to actually fade out at the end.
“Lucky Seven” – Side Two opens with a simple keyboard intro, then a syncopated dance between Squire’s bass and Bruford’s drums. Next, Mel’s sax introduces one of the two themes, and almost immediately Chris’s voice introduces the other. The complex rhythym continues throughout the song. The lead instrument is the bass; not the sax, and not the vocals. Snapping, popping, fluttering in a tremolo the likes of which few bassists could muster, it is powerful even in the segments where it falls silent. Subtle punctuation by a real string section adds a surreal feeling. Finally, near the end, we’re treated to a writhing sax solo by Collins. Oddly, this complex piece was the single chosen for glory and renown by the record label. This ain’t top 40 pop.
“Safe (Canon Song)” – On a stage set by the piano, flute and orchestra join Squire’s voice in a fifteen-minute long piece which is more classical than rock. The most difficult vocal lines of the album, the music and vocals don’t always seem to be going the same direction, but always end up at the same destination. Building, then easing, building again, then moving off in a new direction; it is a marvelous blending of chamber music and progressive rock. After all, didn’t prog rock always want to be chamber music when it grew up? In the end, it builds to a large climax of horns, piano, then the full orchestra to a grand finale. But not quite the finale; the final minute and a half of the album is extremely quiet and very unusual bass playing; it sounds as if it’s been filtered though a Leslie organ amp, the way Jimmy Vaughan does his steel guitar sometimes. Sliding, whispering, a tiny, one-instrument fanfare, and then, finally, silence.

And if I ever grow up, I want to be Chris Squire. At the very least, I dream of one day creating a musical effort as intellectually stimulating and musically fulfilling as “Fish Out of Water.”

California Stars

Posted on May 14, 2002 by Joel D Canfield

I spent the evening on the back patio Sunday, looking at the stars (and a few planets.) Like rudy says, the grandeur of the universe sure puts our petty problems in perspective. It’s nice to live at the back side of town, near an estuary and the ocean, where the city lights don’t do as much damage to stargazing.

Another batch of California stars are addressed by Wilco and Billy Bragg on “Mermaid Avenue“, an album of previously unrecorded Woody Guthrie songs. Put to music by Bragg, Jeff Tweedy, and Jay Bennett in various combinations, the albums (volume II was released in 2000) are a combination of the folk songs we’d expect from Woody, and the folk/rock/punk we’d expect from Bragg and Wilco.

“California Stars” has unusually sensitive lyrics compared to much of Guthrie’s catalog; beautifully poetic. The music, in this case by Bennett and Tweedy, is more traditional. Mostly acoustic, it also includes some slide work by bluesman Corey Harris which is reminiscent of Tweedy’s days as a nephew of Uncle Tupelo. Rolling Stone did a nice writeup of the first album when it was released, including some background information and comments from the band.

Let’s hope Nora Guthrie continues to find voices for her father’s unrecorded lyrics. Like a Beatles reunion or finding a lost Gilbert and Sullivan opera, resurrecting Woody’s words is a music lover’s dream come true.

A View of Jude Cole

Posted on May 13, 2002 by Joel D Canfield

Jude Cole writes lyrics that satisfy me emotionally. While he claims to be just another happy guy, he has an intuitive grasp of misery. When you feel the need to get teary-eyed, Cole can do the trick as well as any.

His album “” is a great blend of solid rock tunes and heart-wrenching ballads. Backed by Jeff Porcaro and Leland Sklar (among others) Cole turns in an impressive performance as a guitarist as well as a lyricist and singer.

“Hallowed Ground” – In a snappy electric tune, we’re introduced right away to so many aspects of the performer – lyrics which actually qualify as poetry; vocals unpretentious but heartfelt; multiple layers of guitars, acoustic, electric, slide; all wrapped around the feeling that no matter how badly you want it, you can never go back.
“Baby, It’s Tonight” – One of only two of Cole’s songs I’ve ever heard on the radio, a stronger keyboard influence (provided by Dave Tyson, occasional Doobie Brother) implies a quieter tune, but the chorus dispels any illusions of a bland pop tune. Excellent engineering gives depth by overlaying vocals on echoed vocals and other subtle effects. The lyrics could easily be taken as a sexual advance, but the rest of the album, and in fact, Cole’s body of work, suggests something less physical, more emotional.
“House Full Of Reasons” – With a piano constantly struggling for attention, Jude sings about the torture of living somewhere he’s no longer loved. The lyrics paint a painful picture of the little things that seem so important when the big things go wrong.
“Get Me Through The Night” – We’re so conditioned to expect the lowest common denominator from modern musicians that it’s easy to dismiss a song with a title like this without realizing that, rather than a come-on in the local bar, it’s a prayer for strength. Initially strongly acoustic, the chorus is shouted over a handful of electric guitars. The tune finishes with a guitar solo, repeated chorus, and one final scream of agony.
“Time For Letting Go” – About how hard it is to accept an unpleasant reality. “It’s time for letting go, we can’t hide what we both know.” A simple straightforward tune, Jude’s singing (both lead and multitrack backing vocals) carry it without the need for fancy musicianship.
“Stranger To Myself” – A glimpse at a darker side of the man, ‘Stranger to Myself’ is about obsessive love (if it can be called that); an overwhelming need to possess someone regardless of the consequences. More edge than most of Cole’s songs, with an interesting guitar solo of lower notes instead of the usual high-pitched squeals we’ve come to expect from rock guitarists.
“This Time It’s Us” – An a capella intro softens this piece about realizing it can happen to us. Lyrical despair without respite; a warmup to “Compared to Nothing.”
“Heart Of Blues” – A blues-rock howler Stevie Ray or Eric could be proud of. Riveting acoustic guitar and a tapping foot are joined by Jude’s voice: “Well I’m tired of losing you; I’m so tired of losing you. The way you come and go, you must be wearing out your shoes!” Another acoustic guitar, snapping fingers, and more of the multilayered vocals we’ve begun to expect. The second verse adds drums and electric guitars, but it’s the slide guitar solo that makes the song truly memorable. Short and punchy, it starts with a few short sweeps up and down the neck of the guitar, a few runs sideways across it, some amazing vibrato and a final run all the way down to the bottom. Makes my hands sweat just to listen to it. Final verse, another solo, fade to black.
“Compared To Nothing” – This time, the piano establishes early dominance and never gives in. A slow sad ballad, Jude is at his most miserable, singing about how trivial all those big problems seem now, when they’re compared to what he’s got left – nothing. In spite of a tasty guitar solo, I still think of it as a piano song. “I want to wake up in the morning, above these lonely streets, and feel you lying next to me.” It’s a special skill to wring so much emotion out of such simple lyrics.
“Prove Me Wrong” – Another prayer, but a defiant one. Very unconventional drum rhythms drive the tune, making it seem harder than it really is. Excellent use of that multilayered vocal thing he does so well.

Cole recently released a fifth album, “Falling Home” and achieved a bit of commercial success with “Speed of Life” from his fourth album “I Don’t Know Why I Act This Way” which we’ll spend some time with one day.