Some Random Sh!t...
- It shocks and saddens me to no end that Webb Wilder doesn't have a bigger audience; a guy like him shouldn't have the majority of his catalog out of print. For those of you unfamiliar with the guy and his band, imagine the Stones as if they were sung by Foghorn Leghorn. I mean, sure he has a schtick, but ultimately, his music rises above mere novelty to rock hard. Recently, I just got a copy of his now-out-of-print Acres Of Suede. The first listen didn't impress me; I thought it was a lesser chapter. But the more I spin it, chestnuts come out. "No Great Shakes" is a truly great song, a slice of Southern-fried power pop. "Why Do You Call?", even though it's similar to a lot of his songs, somehow manages to channel mid-70s Clapton, with the chorused harmonies of girls in the background (think the song "Promises"). "Fall In Place" is a slower song, but grows on you, with its minor key and easy rhythm. Ultimately, if you're a neophyte to Webb, I'm gonna recommend It Came From Nashville (easiest to find), Hybrid Vigor, and Doo Dad as more logical first steps. But honestly, a guy could do a hell of a lot worse than buying Acres of Suede.
- The only reason that I sometimes censor the curse words in this blog is in hopes that at least one parenting web filter software only looks for "major" text and such, so that some kid will be able to read this and be turned on to some cool tunes and hopefully cool stories. I'm also the father of a really cool two-year old who, his teachers tell me, loves music. Not that he's gonna read this for quite some time, but since he's repeating everything that Mrs. Murph and I are saying, we've taken to either substituting clean words or spelling out the salty ones. I guess the habit is crossing over to the blogosphere, who knows why.
- Lowen and Navarro just had a wonderful XM Loft Session, which I was able to record and throw onto CD, for posterity's sake. How does a guy who doesn't subscribe to XM get this gem? Simple; they have a 3 day trial, and there exists a cool piece of software called Replay Music which tapes esoteric 'Net streams and gives you a limited demo. You coincide the two "free" elements to be valid at the time of the broadcast. You find out at the last minute that there's a broadband option, which offers a high-quality stereo stream. You start recording in .wav format (for best quality, of course), and carry on with the party going on at your house at the same time. You stop recording as soon as it's over, so as not to choke out your hard drive's remaining free space. You wait until clean up from the party is done, kiss your wife good night, then stay up until 1:30am boosting levels, inserting track markers, and burning it to CD. Oh, the lengths of geekery that some of us will go to. But you know what? I have a great CD out of the deal. BTW, to Eric and Dan? I'm more than willing to buy this Loft Session should you guys ever find a way to get it a limited release, and then make sure that every Starbucks on this globe sells it. You know that it would sell, especially if the stores play it while they sell their lattes. And then you guys will get the payday you deserve, gentlemen. Thanks for the great music, guys. It's truly amazing.
- Today's the 27th anniversary of Disco Demolition (7/12/1979, for those of you keeping score at home). Disco still sucks, the artifice, empty glitz, and the fact that all those peckerheads got to do tons of blow without worrying about the consequences tomorrow. Rehab didn't have to happen until Nancy Reagan's "just-say-no" '80s. Am I jealous? Sometimes yes, mostly no. The music, with a few notable exceptions, does truly suck. Drugs, so time has shown me, aren't my thing. And most importantly, disco was a fad for the Beautiful People; I've never considered either myself or any of the crowds I've ever hung with to be Beautiful People (except my wife, of course). Which is totally cool by me; it's a hell of a lot less pressure to have friendships without all that added pretension and competiton on top of it. Steve Dahl rammed disco into the ground; just ask K.C. and the Sunshine Band. He points to that day as the moment that his playhouse burned to the ground. Metaphorically, of course. It's good that Donna Summer found Jesus, because after Mr. Dahl's Wild Ride, she sure wasn't finding even half as much cash. It's amazing that one nutty baseball promotion had such shockwaves. And yes, I recommend the Disco Demolition 25th Anniversary DVD; it's a well-done look at the event, with interviews with most of the principals.
- I can't wait to receive the new Loud Family / Anton Barbeau CD, What If It Works?. It's been six long years, during which time we the few, the proud, the LoudFans hoped and prayed that Scott Miller hadn't hung up his rock 'n roll shoes for good. The bit I've heard sounds promising. Early reviews seem to indicate that Miller and Barbeau are simpatico foils to each other. I'm stoked, and wish Amazon.com would get it in the mail ASAP. Also, in the same parcel is the latest Lowen & Navarro CD, which is also highly anticipated by yours truly.
- It's only fair that I note the unfortunate passing of Syd Barrett (check out my buddy's blog for a much better epitaph than I can offer) with my one-and-only Syd story, which doesn't even directly involve the late man in question. I was working at the Coconuts at Randolph and Wabash, as a manager trainee. Paul, Jeff, and I (can't remember their real names, so sue me) were idly chatting about Syd Barrett, and I lamented about how he was Rock's first acid casualty. Jeff, a modern hippie, suddenly looked really nervous; he asked what I meant. Paul, patiently, explained the story (that we all thought was the case at the time), that Syd had taken way too much acid, and went insane. This, of course, only made Jeff even more nervous, which I find hilarious. Of course, we all now know that it was more than just the lysergic that pushed Syd over the cliff. I hope that his later years were peaceful, and that the demons that haunted his earlier years didn't come calling anymore. Thank you, Syd, for the lunacy you gave us.