The Dolphins - Fred Neil (1966)
Three keys to musical immortality:
1. Make four pivotal albums of a genre.
2. Compose "Everybody's Talkin' ".
3. Never record again.
Fred Neil followed these rules to a proverbial "T". After 1967's Sessions, his fourth record, he did just that. He walked away from the music world to focus on his other passion: Dolphins.
I kid you not.
My favorite song of his also happens to be about his post-songwriting career. It is psychedelic a year before Sgt. Pepper. It is staggering in its language of love and its comparison with marine life. It is used to brutal effect during a scene in the last season of The Sopranos where Christopher slips slowly back into drug use. It is covered brilliantly by the late, great Tim Buckley. It is a song that is alive and well, and will be remembered for eons longer than Mr. Neil's recording career lasted.
Which is more than can be said for the collective works of Fred Durst.
That was a cheap shot, but honestly, it was the first name that popped into my head.
I'll make it better: Chocolate Starfish & the Hot Dog Flavored Water is actually a really decent album!
I got nothing.
Two great covers follow.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
JDIZZY's 365 # 264: Fakin' It
Fakin' It - Simon & Garfunkel (1968)
It's always been a toss up. Which is better: Bookends or Bridge Over Troubled Water? If you ask me tomorrow I will probably say Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel's 1970 Swan Song. Today, it's the album before that. Today it is Bookends. Bookends, an album that is 29 minutes and 51 seconds long, without a millimeter of filler. Bookends, which builds on the promise of each consecutive success the duo had experienced.Bookends, the album that introduced the recurring theme to popular music. Bookends, the album that gave us " A Hazy Shade Of Winter", "Punky's Dilemma", "Mrs. Robinson", and today's indisputable classic of angst, frustration and Holden Caulfield levels of hypocrisy. "Fakin' It" didn't chart as high as the other singles from the album, but it rings true with stellar production, brilliant lyrics and the harmonies of angels. I'd love to say they never topped its majesty, but Bridge was on the horizon, with all its arguments for supremacy.There's no clear winner in this short catalog of perfection. Just preferences.
And this is mine..........
.....For today...........
Oddly funky, this one!
It's always been a toss up. Which is better: Bookends or Bridge Over Troubled Water? If you ask me tomorrow I will probably say Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel's 1970 Swan Song. Today, it's the album before that. Today it is Bookends. Bookends, an album that is 29 minutes and 51 seconds long, without a millimeter of filler. Bookends, which builds on the promise of each consecutive success the duo had experienced.Bookends, the album that introduced the recurring theme to popular music. Bookends, the album that gave us " A Hazy Shade Of Winter", "Punky's Dilemma", "Mrs. Robinson", and today's indisputable classic of angst, frustration and Holden Caulfield levels of hypocrisy. "Fakin' It" didn't chart as high as the other singles from the album, but it rings true with stellar production, brilliant lyrics and the harmonies of angels. I'd love to say they never topped its majesty, but Bridge was on the horizon, with all its arguments for supremacy.There's no clear winner in this short catalog of perfection. Just preferences.
And this is mine..........
.....For today...........
Oddly funky, this one!
Friday, January 28, 2011
JDIZZY's 365 # 263: Peel The Paint
Peel The Paint - Gentle Giant (1972)
Ever noticed how outside of certain genre's uber fan base, many groups or artists go unnoticed by the general public? Not many people outside of the freak-folk movement give much thought to Espers. How many people who aren't fans of underground hip-hop have heard of MF Doom? Another genre that is full of non-household names is Prog Rock. One band that has always been a secret handshake for true fans was Gentle Giant. In the 1970's, they released some of the truest "Progressive" rock albums out there. They always bubbled just under the collective popular conscience. They even slid into the Billboard 200 with Three Friends, where today's track comes from. A concept album about three school friends who take three different paths in life, it is dense, beautiful and stunning in its complexity and craft. This standout piece features interwoven saxophone and guitar riffs that seem to be reaching for heaven while keeping their roots firmly locked into brimstone. It's also incredibly sweet, what with beautiful keyboard and string flourishes. Both parts tell the story of making your daily bread in something you love and something you don't. I can't recommend this album enough. If you have been on the fence about Prog Rock, this is a hell of a way to introduce yourself to one of the most important and misunderstood chapters in popular music. With Three Friends, you'll be one step ahead of the curve. You'll know the secret handshake!
Here are two great live performances of the song, from Giant themselves and nu-prog band 3RDegree.
Ever noticed how outside of certain genre's uber fan base, many groups or artists go unnoticed by the general public? Not many people outside of the freak-folk movement give much thought to Espers. How many people who aren't fans of underground hip-hop have heard of MF Doom? Another genre that is full of non-household names is Prog Rock. One band that has always been a secret handshake for true fans was Gentle Giant. In the 1970's, they released some of the truest "Progressive" rock albums out there. They always bubbled just under the collective popular conscience. They even slid into the Billboard 200 with Three Friends, where today's track comes from. A concept album about three school friends who take three different paths in life, it is dense, beautiful and stunning in its complexity and craft. This standout piece features interwoven saxophone and guitar riffs that seem to be reaching for heaven while keeping their roots firmly locked into brimstone. It's also incredibly sweet, what with beautiful keyboard and string flourishes. Both parts tell the story of making your daily bread in something you love and something you don't. I can't recommend this album enough. If you have been on the fence about Prog Rock, this is a hell of a way to introduce yourself to one of the most important and misunderstood chapters in popular music. With Three Friends, you'll be one step ahead of the curve. You'll know the secret handshake!
Here are two great live performances of the song, from Giant themselves and nu-prog band 3RDegree.
JDIZZY's 365 # 262: Never Been To Spain
Never Been To Spain - Three Dog Night (1971)
Three Dog Night recorded a few of their own songs, but they were mainly a covers band. A covers band that sold ridiculous amounts of vinyl!!. They also helped jump start the careers of Laura Nyro, Elton John, Harry Nilsson, Leo Sayer, Randy Newman, Paul Williams and many more. To have your song covered by the band was an honor many a struggling songwriter begged for in the early 70's. Hoyt Axton was given hits not once but twice by the group: : "Joy To the World" and today's selection. Whenever someone makes fun of the first, play them the latter. They will be trying to purchase Hoyt Axton records before the week is out, I assure you.
...And TDN used cds on Amazon ain't a bad purchase either!
The King kinda nails it too.
Three Dog Night recorded a few of their own songs, but they were mainly a covers band. A covers band that sold ridiculous amounts of vinyl!!. They also helped jump start the careers of Laura Nyro, Elton John, Harry Nilsson, Leo Sayer, Randy Newman, Paul Williams and many more. To have your song covered by the band was an honor many a struggling songwriter begged for in the early 70's. Hoyt Axton was given hits not once but twice by the group: : "Joy To the World" and today's selection. Whenever someone makes fun of the first, play them the latter. They will be trying to purchase Hoyt Axton records before the week is out, I assure you.
...And TDN used cds on Amazon ain't a bad purchase either!
The King kinda nails it too.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
JDIZZY's 365 # 261: 99 Problems
99 Problems - Jay-Z (2003)
Let's be honest.
Who doesn't love the production work of Rick Rubin?
After a career of covering the musical landscape with his sonic textures, Rubin returned to his roots in 2004 to produce the best in the game. The Black Album was supposed to be Jigga's swan song. Thankfully it wasn't, but what a way to go out if it had been! Serving up hip-hop's equivalent to Abbey Road, Jay hits overdrive with today's track. It brings hip hop back to its roots: hard guitar riffs, minimal beats and brilliant lines of braggadocio interspersed with social commentary. Jay-Z's music has been great before and after this jam that Rolling Stone Magazine voted the second best song of the 00's. Rick Rubin made sure he will never be better.
Let's be honest.
No one will.
This is why the Mashup genre was taken seriously......flawless!
Banjo Hova!!
Let's be honest.
Who doesn't love the production work of Rick Rubin?
After a career of covering the musical landscape with his sonic textures, Rubin returned to his roots in 2004 to produce the best in the game. The Black Album was supposed to be Jigga's swan song. Thankfully it wasn't, but what a way to go out if it had been! Serving up hip-hop's equivalent to Abbey Road, Jay hits overdrive with today's track. It brings hip hop back to its roots: hard guitar riffs, minimal beats and brilliant lines of braggadocio interspersed with social commentary. Jay-Z's music has been great before and after this jam that Rolling Stone Magazine voted the second best song of the 00's. Rick Rubin made sure he will never be better.
Let's be honest.
No one will.
This is why the Mashup genre was taken seriously......flawless!
Banjo Hova!!
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
JDIZZY's 365 # 260: The Drugs Don't Work
The Drugs Don't Work -The Verve (1997)
This is the moment where Britpop takes a long hard look in the mirror and realizes it can't be all about the party. There comes a time when you have to sit down stone cold sober and reflect. Hearing this song my senior year of high school, my first thought was, "Damn, this kicks ' Bittersweet Symphony' 's ass!". I was always shocked that it didn't even chart on this side of the pond, while in the UK it would be Richard Ashcroft and company's biggest hit. It makes one wonder if maybe we should drink more Earl Grey or something!
The Verve - The Drugs Don't Work
Uploaded by EMI_Music. - Explore more music videos.
Mr Harper can make anything sound like he wrote it, and this is no exception!
This is the moment where Britpop takes a long hard look in the mirror and realizes it can't be all about the party. There comes a time when you have to sit down stone cold sober and reflect. Hearing this song my senior year of high school, my first thought was, "Damn, this kicks ' Bittersweet Symphony' 's ass!". I was always shocked that it didn't even chart on this side of the pond, while in the UK it would be Richard Ashcroft and company's biggest hit. It makes one wonder if maybe we should drink more Earl Grey or something!
The Verve - The Drugs Don't Work
Uploaded by EMI_Music. - Explore more music videos.
Mr Harper can make anything sound like he wrote it, and this is no exception!
Monday, January 24, 2011
JDIZZY's 365 # 259: American Tune
American Tune - Paul Simon (1973)
There is nothing I can say about this masterwork of a song from one of our nation's finest treasures that isn't summed up in an article Andy Whitman wrote for Paste Magazine in 2005. I turn the floor over to him now:
It is a restless 3:00 a.m., the most melancholic hour for insomniacs. And it is a month near the dispirited end of a hellish year in which too many people have died. Sometimes I can block it out, and sometimes I can’t. The thoughts that swirl around my brain tell me that tonight I can’t.
The house settles around me. Everyone else is asleep. It is a Thursday night; work beckons again in just a few short hours. But sleep is not going to come, at least for a while, and so I wander downstairs, check my e-mail, read the CNN headlines, and look out my window at the few lights still on in my neighborhood, wondering who else is up and prowling their hallways. I put on the headphones and settle back with an old, familiar friend, Paul Simon’s “American Tune.” It is the perfect late night musical accompaniment to insomnia; its somber, stately melody cribbed from a J.S. Bach chorale, Simon’s gentle, hushed delivery unsuccessfully masking the images that churn with nocturnal disquiet:
I don't know a soul who's not been battered
I don't have a friend who feels at ease
I don't know a dream that's not been shattered
or driven to its knees
but it's alright, it's alright
for we lived so well so long
Still, when I think of the
road we're traveling on
I wonder what's gone wrong
I can't help it, I wonder what's gone wrong
It is an American tune from the early 1970s, conceived in a far different world that still encompassed Ho Chi Minh and Richard Nixon, the fresh memories of Kent State and My Lai, but it is a sentiment that must sound all too contemporary to those who descend daily to London tube stations, who fearfully cross Baghdad streets, or who inhabit the splintered ruins of hundreds of Asian villages and towns inundated by tsunami. It must ring in the ears of those who endure genocide in Darfur, in those who suffer from the AIDS plague throughout sub-Saharan Africa. Death carries no passport, and it is no respecter of nations. And we too here in America have heard that insistent refrain. Poor New Orleans, pummeled and drowned, struggles to return to something approaching normal life. Where I live, in Ohio, a Cleveland suburb loses 14 of its young men in one bloody day in Iraq, and a community seeks to comprehend the gaping hole at its heart. Even closer to home, my father-in-law lies in his newly dug grave, and two dear family members battle cancer. And at 3:00 a.m., I can’t help it. I wonder what's gone wrong.
We come on the ship they call the Mayflower
We come on the ship that sailed the moon
We come in the age's most uncertain hour
and sing an American tune
Oh, and it's alright, it's alright, it's alright
You can't be forever blessed
Still, tomorrow's going to be another working day
And I'm trying to get some rest
That's all I'm trying to get some rest
We cross the oceans and send rockets hurtling to the moon, planting our flag on whatever scrap of rock we can find, claiming the land and its allegiance as our own. But it is not our own. We are misfits and strangers here, still apt to be blown away by winds or bullets, always voyaging, never able to escape from ourselves or the inevitability of our demise. And there are days when it appears we have learned nothing, least of all how to love. Just turn on the news. Or take a look at my heart. I think of the words I have spattered this year like bullets, fired willy-nilly out of anger, arrogance, stupidity, even naivete, always amazed that the gun goes off when I pull the trigger, always slightly stunned when that smell in the air turns out to be gunpowder and not the sweet perfume of the roses I scatter in my mind. It is the shock of recognition, the one clear moment that comes only when all the distractions and entertainments have faded, when there are no more excuses, when the mirror reflects back our true image. What can you do? In my case, you pray. And you play the single greatest song of a singularly great American songwriter. You shut up and listen. Some nights that’s the best thing you can do.
And in my case I sit in my office, bathed in the blue glow of a computer monitor in a darkened room, pounding out this grim end-of-the-year reckoning. I will not be sad to see the end of 2005. Auld Lang Syne, and good riddance. We traffic in sorrow, the real hard coin of the realm, and music sometimes speaks hard truths. Tonight I listen to Paul Simon, to a beautiful melody and words that sting, and ponder the minor miracles: how we manage to rise above the broken heartedness and our own damned culpability, how we somehow find the strength and courage to get up, bleary eyed, and do it all over again.
-Andy Whitman
Simon's lyrics and musical reinterpretation of a Bach chorale has enchanted generations of musicians. Here's a sampling of the best of their versions.
There is nothing I can say about this masterwork of a song from one of our nation's finest treasures that isn't summed up in an article Andy Whitman wrote for Paste Magazine in 2005. I turn the floor over to him now:
It is a restless 3:00 a.m., the most melancholic hour for insomniacs. And it is a month near the dispirited end of a hellish year in which too many people have died. Sometimes I can block it out, and sometimes I can’t. The thoughts that swirl around my brain tell me that tonight I can’t.
The house settles around me. Everyone else is asleep. It is a Thursday night; work beckons again in just a few short hours. But sleep is not going to come, at least for a while, and so I wander downstairs, check my e-mail, read the CNN headlines, and look out my window at the few lights still on in my neighborhood, wondering who else is up and prowling their hallways. I put on the headphones and settle back with an old, familiar friend, Paul Simon’s “American Tune.” It is the perfect late night musical accompaniment to insomnia; its somber, stately melody cribbed from a J.S. Bach chorale, Simon’s gentle, hushed delivery unsuccessfully masking the images that churn with nocturnal disquiet:
I don't know a soul who's not been battered
I don't have a friend who feels at ease
I don't know a dream that's not been shattered
or driven to its knees
but it's alright, it's alright
for we lived so well so long
Still, when I think of the
road we're traveling on
I wonder what's gone wrong
I can't help it, I wonder what's gone wrong
It is an American tune from the early 1970s, conceived in a far different world that still encompassed Ho Chi Minh and Richard Nixon, the fresh memories of Kent State and My Lai, but it is a sentiment that must sound all too contemporary to those who descend daily to London tube stations, who fearfully cross Baghdad streets, or who inhabit the splintered ruins of hundreds of Asian villages and towns inundated by tsunami. It must ring in the ears of those who endure genocide in Darfur, in those who suffer from the AIDS plague throughout sub-Saharan Africa. Death carries no passport, and it is no respecter of nations. And we too here in America have heard that insistent refrain. Poor New Orleans, pummeled and drowned, struggles to return to something approaching normal life. Where I live, in Ohio, a Cleveland suburb loses 14 of its young men in one bloody day in Iraq, and a community seeks to comprehend the gaping hole at its heart. Even closer to home, my father-in-law lies in his newly dug grave, and two dear family members battle cancer. And at 3:00 a.m., I can’t help it. I wonder what's gone wrong.
We come on the ship they call the Mayflower
We come on the ship that sailed the moon
We come in the age's most uncertain hour
and sing an American tune
Oh, and it's alright, it's alright, it's alright
You can't be forever blessed
Still, tomorrow's going to be another working day
And I'm trying to get some rest
That's all I'm trying to get some rest
We cross the oceans and send rockets hurtling to the moon, planting our flag on whatever scrap of rock we can find, claiming the land and its allegiance as our own. But it is not our own. We are misfits and strangers here, still apt to be blown away by winds or bullets, always voyaging, never able to escape from ourselves or the inevitability of our demise. And there are days when it appears we have learned nothing, least of all how to love. Just turn on the news. Or take a look at my heart. I think of the words I have spattered this year like bullets, fired willy-nilly out of anger, arrogance, stupidity, even naivete, always amazed that the gun goes off when I pull the trigger, always slightly stunned when that smell in the air turns out to be gunpowder and not the sweet perfume of the roses I scatter in my mind. It is the shock of recognition, the one clear moment that comes only when all the distractions and entertainments have faded, when there are no more excuses, when the mirror reflects back our true image. What can you do? In my case, you pray. And you play the single greatest song of a singularly great American songwriter. You shut up and listen. Some nights that’s the best thing you can do.
And in my case I sit in my office, bathed in the blue glow of a computer monitor in a darkened room, pounding out this grim end-of-the-year reckoning. I will not be sad to see the end of 2005. Auld Lang Syne, and good riddance. We traffic in sorrow, the real hard coin of the realm, and music sometimes speaks hard truths. Tonight I listen to Paul Simon, to a beautiful melody and words that sting, and ponder the minor miracles: how we manage to rise above the broken heartedness and our own damned culpability, how we somehow find the strength and courage to get up, bleary eyed, and do it all over again.
-Andy Whitman
Simon's lyrics and musical reinterpretation of a Bach chorale has enchanted generations of musicians. Here's a sampling of the best of their versions.
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