The first album I owned was the Lovin’ Spoonful’s first greatest hits album, so I’m captive. And I was a kid.
But what I’ve learned since, is that this was a tight band with pop ambitions but not a little bit of soul.
Excuse my golden oldie. Too good to be forgotten: https://youtu.be/R8ifTS5NEsI
An alternate and great version.
This is great and I have no context:
Just love it!
I clicked through to some bait on the web promising to tell me the Eight greatest rock albums of all time. No. 1 was Born To Run, Abbey Road was No. something or other. The most interesting choice until the last one was the album by the Clash: Combat Rock, which the inept compiler called the band’s third album. But No. 8, as you might have guessed was Machine Head by Deep Purple, which is not an obvious choice. Except for a mention of riffage, it doesn’t look like we’ve dipped our toes into this at all, here at rock remnants, so it’s about time.
In any case, here is the low-hanging one. It’s one of the rare classic rock songs that still bleeds, at least just a little. Thanks to the riff, sure, but it all hangs together very nicely.
This is kind of silly, and at the same time kind of beautiful. Kind of. And also dark and to be admired.
Among the litany of puns fostered by auctioneer Brian Feldman during Sunday’s NL Tout Wars auction, came the inevitable “Panik Attack” that follows Giants second sacker Joe Panik.
Never satisfied with just one pun, my brain went after a trade possibility to the Tigers, meaning the results would be “Panik in Detroit.”
So, now that I am safely back home in Berkeley, we can honor Bowie, Panik, and a great Tout weekend.
A splendid time was indeed guaranteed for all. Swear.
Here is Dick Manitoba with some version of the MC5 in 2006 playing Kick Out The Jams. I’m sure I would have had a great time if I was there, and it sounds fun. Actually real fun. I wish I was there
But wouldn’t John Sinclair say that recapitulation is capitulation? Or maybe Malcolm X said it.
Was surprised to learn today, during the Gathering of the Remnants (illustration above), that Steve really didn’t know the Blind Faith album.
I kind of stupidly said that the riffage in this song is akin to the riffage in Led Zeppelin’s Black Dog. Nope. But I will not surrender the right to think that both are working off the same template. But the outcomes are different. And the album version is much tighter and dynamic than this perfectly fine live (but live) version.
I fell in love with the early 80s Swiss band Chin Chin a couple months ago, based on their fine album, Sound of the Westway. But you’ve surely read my rantings here, here, here, and here.
It was only after actually downloading the entire album (I would have bought it if it was available), I learned that the gals’ first recording was my nominee for greatest song of the rock era. The Crystals Da Doo Ron Ron, of which I’d only posted the Searchers version here previously.
Chin Chin’s version clearly understands how great this song is, but it isn’t a full statement. They weren’t really a band when they recorded it. It’s thrown off the way the Sex Pistols tossed off Roadrunner in their first meeting. Songs they all knew and liked. On different scales, portentous.
I don’t know how I got into this band, but for me it started with this song, which is power chorded and groovy. It gets a little close to 80s pop, but it breaks many of the rules. And, the lyrics are aggressively nice and aggressive, personal and political. They’re hard to pin down, though it’s clear they don’t like the Queen. They may like Jesus. Or not. Either’s fine.
The band had a slogan, which I’m sure was attractive to me: Take Jesus – Take Marx – Take Hope
I remember buying this album at the record store at 86th Street and Lexington Ave, maybe a Tower, because I liked this song.
The Housemartins later split into two bands. Fatboy Slim became a hip hop artist and DJ who also, in the meantime, had an excellent band called Beats International, and also, later, collaborated with David Byrne on the Broadway musical “Here Lies Love,” while Neal Paul Heaton and the rest of the Housemartins became a band called Beautiful South, which makes nice sounds, but is very easy listening for my taste.
But together they did this goofy hybrid:
