Mobb Deep: 20 Years Of Infamy

I didn't listen to much hip hop in the mid-to-late 90's (too busy listening to Portishead, Tricky and Massive Attack - all indebted to hip hop) so the Infamous Mobb passed me by on the first go round. In the end, it was a mistake that led me to them. After seeing the compulsively watchable 8 Mile starring Eminem, I decided to order the soundtrack from the BMG Club (a relic of the CD Era). Must've filled in the wrong number, though, because I ended up with More Music From 8 Mile, a supplementary disc featuring some of the older songs used in the movie. Rather than send it back, I gave it a listen. Most of it was very good but I was magnetically attracted by two cuts that had grimy, distorted beats and rappers who sounded like real New Yorkers: Prodigy and Havoc, the duo that is Mobb Deep.

When I caught the line "Rock you in your face/Stab your brain with your nosebone," I knew I needed more. I delved in and found a whole cosmology. Welcome to the 41st Side of QB - 41st St. in Queensbridge - where the wolves shoot out the streetlights, deal crack and put an ice pick in your neck: a film noir setting where the streets are always wet - rain and blood - and thugs are always scheming. I grew up in 70's NYC but P and Hav were BORN into that mess, the Ford To City: Drop Dead era, and the soundtrack they provide is perfect for walking the sidewalks of the Rotten Apple.

Hip Hop fans are some of the toughest critics and there's a constant debate about when or if Mobb Deep fell off and if or when they ever got back on top. In a 20 year career, ups and downs are to be expected but I find good stuff on most of their albums. If you add in Prodigy's best solo albums (H.N.I.C. And Return Of The Mac), their catalog adds up to one of the major discographies in rap music. After a tentative debut, Juvenile Hell, they made The Infamous in 1995 and it is one of the true classics of the genre. The line quoted above comes from Shook Ones Pt. II, a mission-statement of a track with sharp beats underscoring a crackly haze of synth strings, piano and rich bass. The rhymes are artful but put you right in it: "When the slugs penetrate you feel a burning sensation/getting closer to God in a tight situation." Donald Goines would have lined up at The Tunnel to catch a piece of this.

If anything, the next album, Hell On Earth, brought the Mobb's game up. More Trife Life is pure storytelling, a Raymond Chandler tale of getting caught up in the worst way ("She said don't sweat it he don't got the top lock"), told over a frightful combination of dubbed out bass'n'snare, synth and something creaking. Overall, the beats are even tighter and the rhymes are spiced with more self-reflection. Havoc is their secret weapon behind the boards, a deeply musical in-house producer whose beats are often the best on their albums. This was proved beyond a shadow of a doubt by Murda Muzik, which contained Quiet Storm, one of Hav's most inspired creations. Haunting strings, glassy piano, dead simple drums and a pulse provided by a complete re-contextualization of the iconic White Lines bassline forge not so much a song but a whole environment. The chorus is a statement of purpose: "Cause it's the real shit, shit to make'em feel shit" and at their best Mobb Deep always delivers on it. Prodigy's H.N.I.C., with classic single Keep It Thoro, followed quickly and they seemed unstoppable.

Infamy from 2002 changed things up with it's second single, Hey Love (Anything), which featured the smooth R'n'B stylings of 112. Some fans complained but the song was a hit and helped set the template for the rap songs with sung hooks that dominated the radio over the next few years. Prodigy's sickle cell disease was flaring up at the time and he sometimes sounds subdued on Infamy and its follow-up, Amerikaz Nightmare, their weakest album. The biggest let down was the production, which often sounds plastic and doesn't blend well with their voices. Even the song titles (one is called Real Niggaz, another Real Gangstaz) hint that they were feeling played out. Throw Your Hands (In The Air), with assists from Talib Kweli and Kanye West is a solid cut, however.

In 2005 they signed with Queens compatriot 50 Cent's G-Unit label and put out Blood Money, which found little love but to my ears was nearly a return to form. Put'Em In Their Place has a swagger straight out of the Studebaker era and Prodigy sounds healthy and hungry: "Yo, I was schooled by the hood, raised by the wolves/Trained by the pain, adopted by guerillas." Unfortunately, one of the best beats was wasted on the fairly reprehensible Backstage Pass - I can't make any excuses for a lyric about recognizing a groupie from behind. Not really what we signed up for back in 96. But Creep sported an inventive groove and, like the organ-driven Pearly Gates, featured the best verses from Fiddy since Get Rich Or Die Trying. Strangely enough, Prodigy's lyric on Pearly Gates "Tell the Boss Man we got beef/And tell his only son I'm a see him when I see him," and "We don't give a fuck about that religious bullshit" proved more controversial than his own frankly misogynistic bullshit. Go figure.

Prodigy's Return Of The Mac came in 2007. This full-album collaboration with producer Alchemist featured almost no guests and narrowed the lyrical focus to straight up New York noir. It's one of the best hip hop albums of the 2000's and the future looked rosy at the time. Chaos, never far from the Mobb Deep circle, soon intruded, however, and Prodigy went to jail for three years on a weapons charge. While momentum has been somewhat hard to regain since his release, a number of strong singles and EP's (The Ellsworth Bumpy Johnson EP, Waterboarding/Street Lights, and Black Cocaine) helped get Prodigy and Mobb Deep back into the game. The Bumpy Johnson EP, expanded into an album, was especially good. Stronger, featuring a devastating Nina Simone sample, was a love song to NYC and celebrated Prodigy's triumph over many forms of adversity. Definitely worth the download.

Prodigy drops Albert Einstein, another collaboration with Alchemist, on June 11 and, after a distracting Twitter beef between Prodigy and Havoc in 2012, they reconciled and began work on their first album since 2006. They're also going out on a 20th Anniversary Tour, which touches down in New York on June 20th and July 17th. Even with all the vicissitudes of Mobb Deep's career, they are a New York City legend and I'm not passing up the chance to see them in July. Hell, I even signed up for the meet and greet! So here's your assignment: what would you ask Prodigy and Havoc if you had a moment with them? Leave your ideas in the comments and I'll be sure to report back after the show.

Great Expectations

The more rapturous the reception to an album, the more devoted the fans for a band, the greater the expectations for any subsequent release. Here are four recent releases that were confronted with this obstacle.

The Strokes - Comedown Machine After a brief period of incomprehension, I fell head over heels for Angles, the last album from the former saviors of NYC rock - in fact, it's now my favorite of theirs after Is This It?, their instant-classic debut. The energy, the intricate but not dispassionate guitars, the precise work of the rhythm section, the heart-on-sleeve vocals of Julian Casablancas, and the overall mixture of gloss and scuzz made for a thrilling listen. Many complained about the band's supposed 80's fixation on Angles, but while the the sonics of the late new wave era were evident, The Strokes use of sophisticated chord sequences and counterpoint-riddled melodies make for a far deeper musical experience than that surface would suggest.

So my expectations were high for Comedown Machine, not because I'm still desperately waiting for Is This It? Or Angles redux, but because I just wanted another great album, no matter what it sounded like. And Comedown Machine delivers, and at almost as consistently a high level as Angles. It has a similar combination of ballsy rockers and keyboard-heavy songs, and features about as many of complex arrangements and clever production details, not to mention jaw-dropping guitar solos from Nick Valensi. Like Angles, it's a very witty album with a great sense of fun. While there have been hints of a tortured process in the studio and tensions between band members, if they were giving any interviews they might suggest that their fans lighten up.

Many have dismissed Comedown Machine and Angles as essentially Casablancas solo albums. The other guys must be bringing something to the table, however, as I found Phrazes For The Young, his actual solo album, an unsatisfying listen. Other complaints have centered around Casablancas's use of falsetto (which doesn't bother listeners of the wretched Passion Pit). While its true that the vocals on something like Chances make Casablancas sound lost and lonely, I take that as the feeling of the song not an incompetent vocal performance. As for comparing One Way Trigger, the first single, with A-Ha's Take On Me, it's the same issue of surface versus depth. While the Strokes take some of the spiky style and romantic sweep from the Norwegians, the melody is entirely different and the little rocket of a guitar interlude that starts at 1:30 could only come from Valensi and his six-string partner, Albert Hammond, Jr.

I'm not going to tell anyone what to like, but I hope people will give Comedown Machine (and Angles) a listen with an open mind, whether they're fans of The Strokes or not.

Iron & Wine - Ghost On Ghost Sam Beam's project is another case of early work being held so dear that any alteration in the formula is met with a sense of near betrayal. The fact is, Beam has been building on his original recipe of strummed nylon strings and hushed vocals for almost a decade now and his latest only continues that trajectory. One major difference between Ghost On Ghost and predecessors Kiss Each Other Clean and The Shepherd's Dog is the use of crack session musicians like Tony Garnier and Brian Blade. But this is no slick anonymous effort; the sound is lush, evocative, and completely distinctive. There are horns and strings, an increased (and sometimes raucous) jazz influence and always the sense that Beam is doing exactly what he wants to do.

Just like every other Iron & Wine record, all the sounds are in support of brilliantly crafted, enigmatic songs that demonstrate Beam's deep engagement with American and British folk traditions. When performed solo, these songs prove that Beam is developing one of the richest song catalogs of the current century. Even though there are moments of darkness and sorrow on Ghost On Ghost, overall the mood is lighter than the last album, which, while never surrendering completely, had a creeping bitterness similar to that evinced by Van Morrison on Hard Nose The Highway. While Beam's essential mellow-ness has always benefited from a slight edge, he sounds like he's in a good place on Ghost On Ghost and I'm happy to join him there.

Mount Kimbie - Cold Spring Fault Less Youth The first album by the duo of Dominic Maker and Kai Campos, Crooks & Lovers (2010), was one of the best electronic records of recent years, harking back to the IDM (Intelligent Dance Music) of the 90's delivered by artists like Aphex Twin and Autechre. In some ways it was almost chamber music, featuring pieces that were abstract and unconventionally structured. It wasn't hard to imagine something like Before I Move Off in the concert hall rather than the club. With so much electronic music becoming almost entirely beat-driven, Mount Kimbie was a bright spot.

They still are, but that brightness is slightly dimmed to my ears, as Cold Spring Fault Less Youth is a far more conventional record. While their command of texture and production remains firm, and this is a gorgeous sounding record with a great sense of color and space, these are mostly very definite songs instead of compositions. There are verses and choruses, more prominent vocals (with the stentorian King Krule on two tracks) and abounding 4/4 rhythms. While the end result is not a turn-off like when lovable eccentrics Efterklang went pop, I do find myself searching for more to get interested in while I'm listening. It might be that a series of deconstructive remixes will reveal the heart of these tracks - I'll be sure to keep my ears open.

John Fogerty - Wrote A Song For Everyone How many living legends still regularly stride across the rock'n'roll stage? It's a pretty short list but John Fogerty is definitely on it. As the leader of Creedence Clearwater Revival he helmed a band that put out seven albums in four years, with at least five of them being stone classics. As a songwriter, he duked it out with Lennon & McCartney for the top spot on the charts. Proud Mary alone has been covered over 100 times. He was also a dynamic performer who proved his ridiculous guitar chops on Creedence's last tour, when they played as a trio following the departure of genius rhythm guitarist Tom Fogerty. Fogerty plays both lead and rhythm with a command and fury that's hard to understand when just listening - I'd like to see video! 

In any case, by the time CCR atomized, Fogerty's place in the pantheon was assured. I grew up a fan and have remained one ever since. My wife can tell you that I was playing a tape I made of favorites when it was deeply unfashionable to do so. This new project has him working up new versions of some of his classics with a hand-picked cast of partners. It's been in the works for a while, and while my expectations were as low as mentions of the Foo Fighters and Kid Rock could make them, I wasn't prepared for the train wreck result. The worst thing is that many of Fogerty's own vocals are mannered and the guitar playing is completely pedestrian. The two new songs he eked out are filled with cliches. One, Mystic River, even has a bridge that takes enough from Black Water by the Doobie Brothers that it might be actionable. You'd think someone who was sued for plagiarizing his own songs - as wrong as that was - would strive to be more original.

As for the guests, is his taste really this bad? Besides the Foos & the Kid, he chooses to work with Jennifer Hudson, Zac Brown and mostly other mediocrities. How about Lucinda Williams, Wilco or Jonathan Wilson - artists who are on the same level? I'll say no more except if you love Creedence, NEVER listen to this album.

P.S. I'll let those who thought Daft Punk's Homework was really all that weigh in on whether their latest, Random Access Memories, is a culmination of what they stood for, or a rejection of those principles.

Jace Clayton's Call To Conversation

At the end of his liner notes for The Julius Eastman Memory Depot, Jace Clayton (also known as DJ/Rupture) writes "I interpret the open-ended irreverent nature of Eastman's legacy as a call to conversation. Reverence can be a form of forgetting." No doubt, but I don't think an excess of reverence is the problem where Julius Eastman's music is concerned - just plain forgetting is more like it. It's easier to forget a gay African-American composer than to do the work of expanding the catalog of avant garde composers to make him fit in.

Fact is, with titles like Evil Nigger and Gay Guerrilla, both included here, he may never fit in. But on the basis of Clayton's terrific, powerful album, he certainly belongs in the canon of great New York composers at the very least. Now, anyone familiar with Clayton's multifarious works as DJ/Rupture (and every music lover should be), would not need to read the liner notes to know that he might not play things entirely straight.
So it's no surprise that the blistering and precise pianos of David Friend and Emily Manzo are at times treated like a subtext for electronic processing of all sorts, but it's all so expertly and seamlessly done that it never seems to detract from Eastman's original conception. Also, Clayton's studio skills are evident from the first notes of the album, such does the sound of the piano leap out of the speakers, with a crystalline 3D reality rarely captured on recordings.
Although Eastman employed repeated notes in both the pieces here, there is nothing minimalist about these compositions. In fact, they have as much stormy drama as a late romantic piano sonata. The titles add to that drama - Eastman was a master contextualizer in the mold of Marcel Duchamp - but it is intrinsic to the writing, and the fact that he builds it out of such small increments is remarkable. He also had a wicked sense of humor, naming another of his surviving works If You're So Smart, Why Aren't You Rich?
Clayton has his sardonic side as well and lets it fly with the short piece that ends the record, his own composition entitled Callback from the American Society of Eastman Supporters. It takes the form of a rejection letter from the (fictional, as far as I can tell) Society, turning down "James" for a job with the Julius Eastman Memorial Dinner. Beautifully spoken and sung by Arooj Aftab, with a sumptuous background of piano phrases and plucked strings, it's a haunting and thought-provoking conclusion. "The Julius Eastman Memorial Dinner is an equal opportunity employer," the lyrics tell us, "All candidates will be considered regardless of age, regardless of name, regardless of race, regardless of color, regardless of creed and disability, sexual orientation, political affiliation, regardless..."
Jace Clayton's remarkable album, his first under his own name, puts all equal opportunity listeners in the employ of Julius Eastman's memory. I plan to clock the necessary hours for this new job and my first task will be to tell you not to stop here. Read up on Eastman's remarkable life and then head over to Spotify to listen to Unjust Malaise, a comprehensive overview of his works, recorded at various concerts under his direction. Trust me, it won't feel like work.
This Just In (sort of): Like everyone else, I get behind on my podcasts and was sorry to learn that DJ/Rupture's last Mudd Up show on WFMU was this past February. Each episode showcases a phantasmagorical array of music from around the world, ranging from electronica, both abstract and dance oriented, to Cumbia, African and Carribean sounds from all nations, and cutting edge sonics from Brooklyn and beyond. Rupture and his regular compatriots Chief Boima and Lamine Fofana are not content to sit around waiting to hear what the record labels send them - they are often in the field, buying CD-R's from cabdrivers and scouring markets and clubs for something new. Listen to a few shows and you too will get chills when you hear the words "Another Mudd Up exclusive." The episodes never fail to educate and fascinate and I save almost all of them. Mudd Up was no ordinary radio show and it leaves an absence in our airwaves that is not likely to be filled. The only benefit is that now I'll have a chance to catch up on all the episodes filling up my iTunes and Clayton will have more time to make records like the one reviewed above.

Walking In The Reign: Grace Jones at 65

At the risk of having a TMI moment, I'm going to share the fact that there's a little part of my brain that is dedicated to Grace Jones's version of Use Me, the Bill Withers song. A quick mental flick of the switch and it starts playing. The rhythm section of Sly & Robbie, along with the keys of Wally Badarou, sets the stage, concocting a fantastic groove that's both earthy and mechanical. Then Grace enters, working her slightly stentorian mezzo against the beat: "MY friends/THINK that/It's THEIR appointed duty..." So freaking fabulous. It was actually that song that sealed the deal for me with Grace, standing in Tower Records in 1998, the year the excellent compilation Private Life was released. I had bought the 12" of Pull Up To My Bumper in high school and had put it on countless mix tapes over the years - it is still a guaranteed floor-filler - but had not invested further. Now I was a true convert and have remained so ever since. When she's at her best, there's something about her bravery and strength, not to mention her uniquely rhythmic singing, that moves me.

Private Life covers the three albums she made in Compass Point, Nassau, with the amazing band Island Records head Chris Blackwell hand-picked to work with her. The Caribbean was a homecoming for Grace as she was born in Jamaica, moving to Syracuse, NY at the age of 12. It wasn't too long before she made her escape from that frozen city and she was quickly mixing it up in NYC and Paris as a model, scene-stealing party-goer and, eventually, a singer. It soon became obvious that she was an extension of a through-line that started with Josephine Baker and continued through Eartha Kitt (I'm a big fan) - unconventional vocalists with a strong theatrical bent and personae that freely confront issues of gender, race and sexuality.

Her first three albums made her name in the hardcore disco underground of the Pradise Garage and its ilk, but it wasn't until Blackwell sent her down to Nassau that she began to make wider waves. The story goes that he sent down some of the outrageous photos Jean Paul Goude had made of her as a virtual advance team. Sly, Robbie and the rest of the Compass Point Allstars began work on the album with huge posters of Grace staring at them from all angles, though they still might not have been fully prepared when she showed up in the flesh. Covering songs by The Normal, Iggy Pop, The Police, Chrissie Hynde, Tom Petty and others, she proved to be a genius interpreter of contemporary songwriters. On Living My Life, the third Compass Point album, her own songwriting became richer and more personal. While she was often late and sometimes a no-show at her concerts, the film A One Man Show used videos and live footage to display a riveting and unique performer.

After Living My Life, Grace tried something new, working with producer Trevor Horn on Slave To The Rhythm, which yielded another classic single in the title track. She co-wrote every song on Inside Story in 1986, working with Nile Rodgers to update her sound yet again. Like Slave To The Rhythm, Inside Story has some 80's clatter, but I'm Not Perfect (But I'm Perfect For You) is a strong single and the songs continued to show more nuance. However, Bulletproof Heart, the 1989 album overseen by her then-husband (naturally, she's had a couple), found her either subsumed or unsupported by the production.

There were ups and downs after that point and a long period of quiescence. In 2008 she released Hurricane, a return to form that found her working with Sly & Robbie again and sharing her most personal songs yet. The frankly autobiographical Williams' Blood revealed that her maternal grandfather, Dan Williams, was a musician who had not always behaved himself while on the road with Nat King Cole - a far cry from Jones' preacher-father. The dichotomy between the Jones blood and the Williams blood is likely a source of the tension and emotional depth contained in Grace's finest work.

I had a chance to see her perform in 2009 and she was as spectacular as I had imagined, managing to sing well while wearing incredible costumes. She's a bit eccentric, obviously, and chattered out autobiographical anecdotes from backstage during each costume change. While there hasn't been any new music since Hurricane, she made a recent splash at the Queen's Jubilee concert, singing Slave To The Rhythm while unflappably hula hooping through the whole song. Queen Elizabeth was not in the stadium yet, which is just as well - it might have been confusing to have two queens there at the same time!

Happy 65th birthday to the one, the only, Miss Grace Jones.

No Longer A Big Inner

I have a not so hard and fast rule about avoiding multiple performances by a band or musician during the same album cycle. This is partly to keep my schedule from quickly spiraling out of control and partly to maintain a freshness in relation to their musical performance. It can be a little disappointing to discover that that spontaneous moment that levitated the audience was actually carefully calibrated. A concert that is less than completely satisfying, however, trumps the rule whenever possible. Back in the day, I saw Siouxsie & The Banshees three times over the course of a year, hoping for a performance as stunning as their records. Never happened, although one show was so stunningly loud that all I heard were overtones. For a week. Somewhere in my ears are some blackened goth hair cells - but that's another story.

White: Big Inner No More

In the case of Matthew E. White, when I saw him at Mercury Lounge last summer, it was one of his first gigs outside his hometown of Richmond,VA, and it showed in the sometimes tentative performance. Granted, White's stunning debut album, Big Inner, features layers of horns, strings and backing vocals, and serving the songs with a more stripped down ensemble took some doing. Percussionist Scott Clark was a canny choice to enrich the sound but he appeared a little out of his depth that night, and the sound mix on his instruments was not always effective. Still, I left the club with a warm glow and the firm expectation that a few months on the road was going to turn this group into a monster.

Stepping Right Along

 

I'm happy to report that my hopes became reality at the Bowery Ballroom last Tuesday when White and band returned after many dates in Europe and America. As I told him after the show, they did everything right. They stretched out further into the songs, increased the dynamic range, added a cover song (a gritty take on Waylon Jennings' Are You Ready For The Country) and two new songs, and just plain GELLED. Clark and drummer Pinson Chanselle played as one, providing a dense undercurrent of polyrhythms, and bassist Cameron Ralston proved himself the heart of the band, whether providing a deep groove or working the upper notes on the neck of his instrument. White ripped off guitar licks with the expected economy but less reticence than the last time I saw them. His laid-back voice showed a few more gears, although that could have been the steroids talking - White explained that a shot had brought his voice back from the brink. He also apologized for any surly behavior at the merch table caused by the side effects (he needn't have).

The band is filled out by Trey Pollard, who fills in the gaps on pedal steel, piano and guitar, and Gabe Churray, also known as Snow Panda, who adds layers of atmospherics and dubbed out sounds from behind a bank of keyboards and effects boxes. He may have been doing the same stuff last August, but it was only this time around that I thought, "This guy's gear is set on stun."

Snow Panda: Set On Stun

 

The only thing that didn't add up this time around is that the room wasn't jam packed. I'm expecting that will also be different next time.

The show was opened by Helado Negro, an affable enough guy with some bass-heavy programmed tracks and an okay voice. His sound seemed promising at first, but quickly grew tedious due to the lack of melodic variety. It's always hit or miss with opening acts...

Matthew E. White's tour continues - make sure your aware of when he hits your area.

 

A Bronx Cheer For RSD

My approach to Record Store Day is both serendipitous and practical. If I'm going to a favorite store like Other Music, I know there will be many people with more burning desire for particular special releases than I have, so I prefer to see what I see. That way, I feel lucky with whatever I end up buying. In 2011 I picked up an awesome Fela 7" and a limited edition cassette from Numero Group, along with a couple of other goodies. Last year, I had an event at a Knights Of Columbus near Westwood, NJ (all in a day's work) and let my GPS do the driving to Music Merchant, which turned out to be an excellent store run by dedicated fans. I scored a beautiful Lee Perry vinyl box and a number of used albums at great prices.

This year I was seriously pressed for time so I plotted a course to the nearest RSD participating store, which turned out to be Harmony Records in the Parkchester section of the Bronx. My daughter and I headed out there in the morning, planning to arrive when they opened at 10:30. It's a good thing we weren't completely on schedule because it turned out to be more like 11-ish when to owner, Glenn Velger, came and rolled up the gate. Harmony has been operating since 1956 and if it's not the oldest record store in NYC still at its original location, I'd like to know what is. The small narrow space is decorated by accretion, like a cave that has been transformed by millennia of drips, floods and geologic events. Dion's fingerprints are probably somewhere under the grime and accumulated stuff.

Quick observation made it clear that Harmony was not stocking any RSD special editions so I didn't even ask. I asked Glenn how long he'd been there and learned that he bought the store from the original owner in the 90's and that they still talk a couple of times a month. Before giving me the lay of the land, Glenn delivered a practiced spiel about how downloading was ruining the music business, the kids today don't want to pay for records, etc. Moving on...
Besides a few new release CD's, most of the stock at Harmony consists of well worn LP's and 45's, with a strong concentration in soul, disco and hip hop. Some of the inventory has come from DJ's liquidating their collections and it shows in the number of promo copies and white labels. Serious crate diggers might find some long-sought items here, but they best have deep pockets - I discovered that the base price for LP's and 12" singles is $14.99, even in rough condition.
It was entertaining to flip through the albums - my daughter was incredulous that anyone would want to dress like Don Johnson on the cover of the Miami Vice soundtrack - but some other would-be patrons weren't so happy when they found out there were limited editions in stock. One dude, in expensive head to toe black, came in with his phone to his ear saying "I'm building the house mainly for my records," and asked for the McCartney single.

He looked like he was sucking a lemon when Glenn said he didn't carry any of those things, after all who wants a bunch of kids lined up to fight over a copy of something and downloading is ruining the music business and the kids don't want to pay for music... Expensive Black was clearly not interested in debating the contradictions inherent in Glenn's rap and repaired to his car - a BMW so new I've never even seen it before (license plate FAB4LP) - to try to track down the Sir Paul 7". Between the car, the house full of records, and the attire, I had to ask him if he was in the music biz. "Used to be," he replied, telling me he was a DJ in California - but that's all he wanted to say.
After the sticker shock, I ended up making a few token purchases in the spirit of the day. I took a chance on George McCrae's 1976 album Diamond Touch, partly because I've always like the TK sound and partly because he looked so sad on the album cover. He might have been depressed because the record wasn't recorded at TK HQ in Miami, home of Rock Your Baby, Rock The Boat, Rocking' Chair (by George's wife Gwen), and a dozen hits by KC & The Sunshine Band. Diamond Touch was instead made in NYC under the supervision of Gregg Diamond, known for taking More More More by former porn star Andrea True to the top of the charts.

Diamond Touch is a gleaming edifice of high disco style that surely got them on the floor at 54 but leaves little space for George's sweet vocal stylings. I'm sure it will spice up a mix tape or two, once I rip it to digital, as will the frankly amazing Disco Mix of the South Shore Commission's Free Man. It's a Tom Moulton Mix of a Bunny Sigler production - need I say more? Finally, Don't Take My My Kindness For Weakness Is a sentiment I can get behind, and I'm always a sucker for Stax, so I threw the single by The Soul Children on the pile.
I'm glad we made the trip as our little adventure took us to a part of NYC I'd never seen before, although I've lived here all my life. While I may never go back to Harmony it's definitely a spot any record store aficionado should visit at least once, although maybe not on Record Store Day.

The Replacements: Daring For Slim

 

In 1984, about three years after their first record, news of The Replacements rippled out from Minneapolis. Let It Be was their third album and I read enough about it somewhere that I was convinced to buy it sound unheard. The magnificent I Will Dare is the first cut and before it was over I was hooked. Let It Be occupied the turntable for a whole semester, only occasionally replaced by This Is Spinal Tap. In fact, my roommate Andy played Let It Be so much when I went on vacation that the vinyl didn't sound right anymore and he had to get me another copy. We had never heard anything like it - shambolic yet delicate, punk yet pretty, perfectly crafted songs alternating with pure chaos. This was diamond in the rough stuff and there were some heavy carats waiting to be exposed for all the world to hear.

With each new record I was ever more convinced that The Replacements were going to be HUGE, like REM big. That never quite happened - excessive drinking tends to get in the way of world domination. Nevertheless, they released many good records before imploding in 1990. Chief songwriter Paul Westerberg has carried on, as iconoclastic as ever and constantly taking a stand against too much roughness being polished away. One of my favorite things by him was from a few years ago and called 49:00 - 49 minutes of cheap cover songs, balls out rockers and beautiful ballads, all running into and over each other in an aural collage. It's a work of art and he sold it on Amazon for 49 cents for about a month.

In February 2012, Slim Dunlap, the lead guitarist from the band's second phase, suffered a massive stroke that left him in need of round the clock care for the rest of his life. So Westerberg did what you do in rock & roll when a situation like this crops up: you get the band back together (sort of) and raise some money. It's a testament to the legendary status of The Replacements that an eBay auction of the initial release from the Songs For Slim project raised over $100,000 for Slim and his family.

I did my part to drive up the auction bids but couldn't go the distance and ended up buying it from Amazon. Consisting of five songs, the EP is a bit of a hodgepodge and doesn't quite represent a reconciliation of the surviving and active members of the band. Westerberg appears on four of the songs, along with original bassist Tommy Stinson (who's been all over the map, including a time in Guns N' Roses), while drummer Chris Mars ( now a successful painter) only shows up on a solo track, a cover of one of Slim's own songs.

Overall it's never less then a heartfelt affair and there's a lot of fun to be had. The opening cut, a delightful take on Slim's own Busted Up, is the most fully realized and Westerberg sounds in fine form presiding over the louche Bo Diddley beat. He and Stinson also bash through Gordon Lightfoot's I'm Not Sayin', Leon Payne's Lost Highway (made famous by Hank Williams), and Everything's Coming Up Roses from the musical Gypsy. Slim's Radio Hook Word Hit is catchy and streamlined in Mars's hands and, along with Busted Up, has renewed my interest in Slim's solo work.

The love and affection come through loud and clear and one can only imagine how all this sounded to Slim and his family in his time of need. The project is continuing with further auctions and exclusive recordings - get in on it.

Here's Unsatisfied, a stunner from Let It Be, and Busted Up.

 

 

Napoleon's Legion

I first heard the band Napoleon when they played with Mystical Weapons at Santos's Party House earlier this year. I ended up befriending Julian Anderson (vocals, bass) and Julien O'neill (guitar, vocals) and was eager to hear more of their tight, rhythmically sharp, and impassioned songs, so when they invited me to their show at Legion Bar I made my way out to a gritty end of Williamsburg last Saturday night. Even though Julian had told me they were going on after 11, I was curious about the four other bands on the lineup so I got out there early.

The back room at Legion is about the size of an average living room and it was completely empty when I arrived, with no sign of any music about to be made. I had a fine time waiting with my drink, especially when the bartender put on Let It Be by The Replacements and just let it play. Eventually, I heard something coming out of the other room and headed back there just in time to catch the last song of Rob Karpay's set. That was all I needed to hear of a guy shouting over pre-programmed tracks from his tiny keyboard. I will say that he has guts, and that can go a long way in rock & roll.

The next band was billed as Jizzmoppers, either the best or worst band name of all time, and my expectations were low. I perked up momentarily when I thought the guitarist was Julien from Napoleon, but then I realized it was another guy with perfect lead-guitarist looks. They turned out to have a good (but not slavish) driving psych power-pop sound and well-crafted songs, holding my interest with growing enthusiasm for the length of their set. Speaking of looks, I wouldn't expect a drummer under these circumstances to be wearing headphones - click track? line-in from the PA? - and it gave them a slightly provisional look. Are we witnessing a rehearsal, sound check or demo session? The rhythm section was locked in, though, with the drummer driving everyone on, so whatever works, I suppose. They would do well to fill out their songs with some harmony vocals on the choruses, but they are otherwise well on their way.

They're actually called Spires

Before Jizzmoppers left the stage, the vocalist muttered something about their manager and said they were actually called Spires - much better! Get a free sample of their sound here, and keep an ear out for more.

Spires broke down their equipment, the next band set up, and suddenly the room was packed. "That's our friend," the guy next to me crowed at his girlfriend, gesturing toward Sam Cooper, who was leading the trio. The first song was like three songs in one, but in a jumbled way that didn't appeal to me. I tried one or two more but the focus improved only slightly and his nasal voice failed to become more charming. Since I had been standing for a while, I cut out back to the barroom where I found a full-blown sweaty dance party in progress. There was more joy in that room for me as there is never a bad time to hear Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough. Sam Cooper must have a good network, though, as I saw a group of folks leaving the back room when his set was over.

Visuals

Visuals were up next, a twosome of Marshall Ryan (drums/electronics) and Andrew Fox (guitar/vocals). I had checked out their cool song Levitation in advance and was intrigued. They got off to a rocky start, the perils of no sound check evident in their difficulties in getting the balance of instruments right. Things improved when a helpful member of the audience told the drummer to turn up the electronics - if he hadn't, I would have. Things got better once again when the guitarist broke his cheap instrument, which was tuned only in theory, and borrowed a beautiful axe from Napoleon. The last three songs went off without a hitch, giving a clearer impression of their tense post-punk sonic landscape. No shame if Visuals is more suited to the studio for now, and I'd like to hear what emanates next from their quirky world.

Napoleon had to work fast

Visuals vanished and Napoleon began squeezing their five pieces onto the tiny stage. They worked in a hurry, as it was nearly 12:30 and they only had until 1:00am. Nice guys not only finish last, but they also get the shortest set! Napoleon has bigger stages in their future, but they sounded great in the tiny room, whipping off album-opener Sarafan with polish and passion. Their new keyboard player cut a striking figure, even if they're still figuring out where her instrument figures into the expert two-guitar dialog. Five songs, including at least one new one, and they were done - way too short, but I have no doubt that I'll get to see them again. They packed up so fast you would've thought the wolf was actually at the door.

Napoleon gave their all in their short set

I said my goodbyes and began the long trek back to my bed. It was an invigorating night but I was ready for sleep. The blue and silver exes on the back of my hand would remind me in the morning of all I had heard and seen one long night at Legion.