The Art Of Extrication

As I type this it seems unlikely that I will ever post these thoughts, but I’m finding it necessary to at least get this issue off my mind and down on the page if for nothing else than going about the business of moving on.

About a year and a half ago, I started contributing some of my rock and roll posts for this other blog I stumbled upon. This other blog was well established in that it had many more actual readers than mine did. Well, one thing led to another and before I knew it, I was expected to produce content, and produce it often.

This did not sit well with me. While I welcomed the opportunity to reach a larger number of people, I ultimately balked at my editor’s consistent demand for quantity over quality.
He was convinced that in order for the blog to be successful, “we” would have to post 20 entries per day. This was something I never signed up for. Especially when his idea of content would often consist of him puking out these one paragraph rants against members of the rock establishment. Basically, he loves to cast verbal stones of vitriol at the biggest names in music.

At first, I tried to cooperate. It wasn’t long though, before I realized that what I was writing ran contrary to this other blog’s modus operandi. It’s no secret that I’m not a big fan of today’s music. I’m sure that if I had lots of leisure time, I could find something recorded after the year1999 that appealed to me. I, in fact have on several occasions. My personal opinion towards artists like Taylor Swift, Lady Gaga, Katy Perry and their ilk are that they are not only overrated, they are nothing more than music industry board room creations manufactured like so many jars of peanut butter. In short, not worthy of my attention.

The difference is that I would never try to shove that opinion down your throat. Personal tastes aside, the music being made today is just not designed with me in mind. I can find some enjoyment in the backing tracks of much of today’s rap and hip-hop, but ultimately find the misogynistic , polarizing and at times violent nature of many of it’s lyrics highly distasteful.

Rock criticism has never been my aim. I try to be inclusive, to turn someone on to a record or a band that they might not be aware of. And if they are aware of them, then try to provide some small nugget or kernel of knowledge they might not have known. Before I put pen to paper, I do my research and I work as hard as I can to be correct in what I say. Most of the time all my research data is obtained via the world wide web. This is mainly due to time constraints and convenience. I wish I could use more printed sources when I write, but this is not exactly what you’d call a “paying gig”. So even though you could critically analyze much of what I do as lame Wikipedia re-writes with a dash of passion, I’m always extremely careful not to talk down to the audience.

So yeah, I have a serious problem with someone who “writes” things like “Jaan Wenner is a plank” or “60’s music is dead”. Or someone who dismisses Bob Dylan’s back catalog as “moldy”. If one wants to champion new artists , then that writer should do that. However, doing that and at the same time “writing” derogatory comments about the ghosts of rock and roll past is the ultimate in contradiction and calls to mind the old saying of “cutting off your nose to spite your face”. Especially when that same person tries to pass off his opinions as fact. I have absolutely no time for this “dick measuring approach” whatsoever.


Now, my former editor would probably reply by saying that if I in fact provided more content, then I could have played a more active role in the blog’s direction. This may be true, but when one’s basic statement of principles run so perpendicular and contrary to the establishment for which he “works” for, it becomes not only a losing battle, but a fight that I would just as soon not undertake.

The catalyst towards my ultimate resignation occurred one Sunday afternoon. I was reading that blog when I happened upon a review by one writer of Paul McCartney’s performance on “Saturday Night Live” the evening before. It was the typical “he’s old, we hate him” crap that this blog usually tries to pass off as actual content. However, within the review came an incorrect observation by the writer that Macca was NOT actually playing the bass. They were accusing the artist of miming his bit while appearing on national television. Then , my former editor chimes in AGREEING with the writer and spewing forth some other crap about the keyboard player covering for him.

Does anyone else see the irony here? A blog that absolutely loves artists who regularly “perform” live to pre-recorded backing tracks calling out an artist that is at least in partly responsible for creating the music industry as we know it of miming on stage. This was compounded by the fact that their observation was completely incorrect.

How could I let this stand? I couldn’t! Compelled to respond, I opened up the “comment” section underneath the post and basically said that these writers were allowing their own cynicism to cloud their view of the facts. Well, you would have thought I had called them assholes and pissed on their shoes for good measure. Repressed hostility from my former editor came bubbling over with a slew of insults volleyed back at me. First he said I was “boring”, which coming from him, I actually took as a compliment.

So here he was defending his blog the way a parent would defend his or her child. Which is all well and good I guess, and sort of admirable in a strange psychotic way. But if you’re going to have a controversial (or in this case, completely incorrect) point of view, it’s a little naïve to think that nobody will ever call you on it eventually. There’s nothing wrong with being passionate, but in the meantime at least check your facts and make sure you’re right before you go spouting off and accusing me of sabotage.

Looking back now, it’s better for all parties involved that I extricated myself from that situation when I did. Now, I get to write only when I want to and when I feel like I actually have something to say. This blog may not spout out 20 posts a day, but I am extremely proud of it’s meager contents. Moreover, I vehemently stand behind each and every sentence comfortable in the knowledge that I will never have to change my mind about anything I wrote. At the same time however, I will always consider myself enlightened enough to accept someone else's point of view.

The curious life and tragic death of Randy California

On January 2nd, 2011 it will be 14 years since Randy Craig Wolfe drowned in the ocean off the coast of Molokai, Hawaii while successfully preventing his son from suffering the same fate. He managed to push him towards the shore in the fierce undercurrent, but had no energy left to save himself.

Wolfe, better known as Randy California, was a guitarist and singer for the rock group Spirit. Founded in 1967, he was one of the group’s original members and was also the band’s principal songwriter, penning the band’s two biggest hits, “I Got A Line On You”, and “Nature’s Way”.

The band’s musical output is diverse, one that defies categorization. Within the grooves of their astounding first four albums are elements of jazz, folk, power pop and even the roots of progressive and jazz/rock fusion. “The 12 Dreams Of Dr. Sardonicus” , arguably their greatest work, is a bona fide masterpiece that belongs in the record collections of all serious listeners.

A guitar genius at the tender age of 15, Randy met Jimi Hendrix at Manny’s Guitar Shop in New York City during the summer of 1966. He had migrated there from California with his stepfather Ed Cassidy who together were performing at several small jazz clubs in the area.

After hearing him play, Hendrix got Randy to join his band, which were then known as “Jimmy James and the Blue Flames”. There was another guitarist from Texas in the band named Randy, so Hendrix started referring to them separately as “Randy California” and “Randy Texas” to avoid confusion.

Upon being “discovered” by Animals bassist Chas Chandler, it was decided that Hendrix would go to England with his new manager with the intention of forming a band. Jimi wanted Randy California in the group that was to become the Experience, but Randy’s parents would not allow it, since he was only 15 and had still not finished high school.

Returning home with a new nickname, Randy, along with his stepfather would form “Spirit”. The success of their second album “The Family That Plays Together” found them touring the United States in 1968. Opening for them on several dates was a new band from England called Led Zeppelin. It was most likely here that Jimmy Page first heard Randy’s song “Taurus” which features a guitar part that is strikingly similar to a Led Zeppelin song that would be recorded a few years later, known as “Stairway To Heaven”.

Some bad management decisions (such as not playing the Woodstock festival) combined with the death of his good friend Hendrix, a disillusioned and depressed Randy California left Spirit in 1969. He would record and perform under a few different band configurations before re-acquiring the legal rights to use the name “Spirit” in 1974.
While he would never approach the quality of those early records, Randy California continued to write, record and perform under the “Spirit” banner until that fateful day in 1997, where he died while saving the life of his own son.

Click below to hear "Mr. Skin" by Spirit

Elvis Costello-"National Ransom" reviewed

I can completely envision a scenario where some long time fans of Elvis Costello, upon hearing him whistle the melody towards the end of “A Slow Drag With Josephine” off his new LP “National Ransom”, would go lunging for the CD player in frustration and chuck this entire record into the bin. Which is unfortunate, because this thing’s not all that bad.

There’s more than enough eclecticism here to confound even his most loyal fans. While I can appreciate the fact that at this point in his career Costello continues to explore many different styles to get his tunes across, it’s ultimately frustrating to know that if about one fourth of these songs were left off this 62 minute effort it would easily be his strongest work since “All This Useless Beauty”. The most surprising thing here is that the experiments end up working infinitely better than the tried and true.

The album’s opener and title track is straight forward enough, even if it does lack a discernable melody. It’s almost as if Costello feels obligated to deliver a rocker, but is ultimately not interested in painting with those colors for very long. It’s also somewhat ironic in that in his overall attempt to use a wide variety of styles, the tunes that are the most “Elvis-like” are where most of this record’s missteps occur. Along with the title song, add “Five Small Words” and “I Lost You” as decent, but familiar ground that he’s covered more successfully on previous records.

From there we are treated to bathtub gin era jazz, (Jimmie Standing In The Rain) to dense Bacharach-esque chord structures, (Stations Of The Cross) to bluesy rock and roll (My Lovely Jezebel). All three of these songs are terrific, with some of the most inspired lyrics and vocal melodies we’ve gotten from the man in recent memory.

“Church Underground” is another standout number that features a type of twisted Salvation Army Band rhythm track which, when combined with the impassioned vocal and eerily filthy subject matter adds up to a tune that easily ranks among his very best. It’s immediately followed up by “You Hung The Moon”, a number that Sinatra would have died to sing if he was wasn’t dead already and is so good it makes things like “Almost Blue” (the song) seem inferior by comparison.

So it’s the variety of styles here that make for most of the high points. It ends up succeeding where something like say, “Spike” failed in that it was just too much of a scattershot affair with not much substance holding it together. On “National Ransom”, Costello feeds off the “Spike” template, but raises the songwriting ante considerably and combines that with the unifying theme of bankruptcy (both literally and morally) as the glue.

A-wop-bop-a-loo-bop-a-lop-bam-boom!

One of the original rock ’n’ roll 45’s was almost never recorded. “Tutti Frutti” was cut by Little Richard and produced by Robert “Bumps” Blackwell at Cosimo Matassa’s studio in New Orleans on September 14th,1955. It was not on the original list of tunes that they were going to do that day. The session was not going as well as everyone would have liked, so during a short break, “Little” Richard Penniman decided to sit at the piano and let off some steam.

He started playing a bawdy, salacious tune laced with homosexual humor that he had perfected playing in gay nightclubs with his band, The Tempo Toppers. The original lyrics went something like “Tutti Frutti, good booty / If it don’t fit, don’t force it / You can grease it, make it easy". It bears a resemblence to a song titled “Tutti Booty” recorded some 20 years earlier by a novelty jazz duo known as Slim And Slam. Some of us who had parents that were young during that era may remember them for novelty hits such as “Flat Foot Floogie (with a Floy Floy)” and “Cement Mixer (Puti Puti)”.

Bumps Blackwell heard Little Richard tear through this tune with his trademark ferocity and knew right then and there that it was a hit. He also knew that there was no way it could ever be released with those lyrics. So a local songwriter named Dorothy LaBostrie was hastily contacted to come in and clean it up.

By now , time was of the essence. The session was nearly over and there was not enough time to teach the piano player how to perform the tune. So Matassa re-positioned the microphones so that Little Richard could play and sing the track at the same time. Fifteen minutes and three takes later, “Tutti Frutti” was finished. Released that following November, it went to #2 on the Billboard Rhythm And Blues charts. Even more astonishing was it’s cross over onto the Pop charts (which were typically dominated by white artists) where it reached #17.

Subsequent versions were soon recorded by Pat Boone and Elvis Presley, and were also hits. Richard’s version however, remains the definitive one partly because of the aggressive raw nature of the recording, but chiefly because that ferocious power was being conveyed by a black man. Kids of all colors subsequently went nuts, and the popularity of “Tutti Frutti”would change the world both culturally and politically.

Pop Artists Re-Recording Their Old Material-Revisionist History? Or Just Desserts?

Music purists may be troubled by a recent trend in which artists from the 60’s and 70’s are going back into the studio to re-record spanking new versions of their classic tunes.
The list appears to be growing by the day, from the “new” Squeeze album “Spot The Difference”, to Ray Davies’s choral collection from last year being followed up by a “duets” album of sorts in the upcoming “See My Friends”.

Do a little more digging and you’ll find that The Sex Pistols recently reunited in the studio to record a fresh version of “Anarchy In The UK” for the video game, “Guitar Hero III”. The list continues with everyone from Kiss to Uriah Heep jumping into the game.

Almost 40 years ago, Ray Davies wrote a song called “The Money-Go-Round” in which he wrote, “Do they all deserve money from a song that they’ve never heard? They don’t know the tune and they don’t know the words but they don’t give a damn…” Herein lies the purpose behind this trend. Music publishing over the years has been bought and sold and sold again. It’s been broken into pieces via corporate takeovers and piecemealed out to other companies and may have even been won in a high stakes poker game for all we know.

The demand for this music is as high as it’s ever been. From video games to the ending credits on TV shows and movies, the thirst for classic rock is insatiable towards all things commercial. Many times though, the effort it takes to gain publishing rights to use the music is either just too expensive, or just too complicated because there are too many entities that own portions and percentages of the tune. So, by the time you round up all these approvals and signatures, your product has either already missed it’s deadline to hit the market place, or less expensive options get utilized.

Those less expensive options are where these new recordings come in. By providing a new performance of the song, the artist has effectively cut out all these middlemen and created a cash flow that goes directly to them. In that same aforementioned song Davies also lamented, “But if I ever get my money, I’ll be too old and grey to spend it”.. If that was the lay of the land some 40 years ago, can you imagine how bad it must be now?

So before we criticize our rock heroes for performing revisionist history on their back catalog instead of coming up with new ideas, remember that they need to put peanut butter on the table just like the rest of us. And before we take the directors and producers of movies and TV to task for not using the original recordings of songs, try to understand how difficult the environment is for them to get the rights to these songs in order to complete their artistic vision.

Copy and paste this link into your browser to read Glenn Tilbrook of Squeeze explain why his band decided to do this.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/music/musicblog/2010/oct/25/squeeze-back-catalogue-up-junction

Cosimo Matassa

When the phrase “Legend Of Rock And Roll” is used, one rarely hears the name Cosimo Matassa attached to it. However, if one were to mention Fats Domino, Little Richard, Smiley Lewis, Lee Dorsey, Ray Charles, Jerry Lee Lewis and Roy Brown, chances are there would be more people nodding their heads in agreement than you’d find at a bobble head doll convention.

All those people and dozens more are intrinsically linked together for two main reasons. They are all trail blazing giants of the Rock and Roll/ R&B genre and they were all recorded at one time or another (in most cases extensively) by Cosimo Matassa, owner and engineer of J&M Studio, 840 North Rampart Street, New Orleans, LA, USA.

The path was an unlikely one. Around the time of World War 2, Matassa was a reluctant chemistry major at Tulane University. After dropping out, some minor health issues allowed him to avoid the draft. A short time later, his father demanded that he either go back to school or find some work.

Employment was readily available through the family business, an appliance store that also sold and serviced coin operated jukeboxes. This line of business would ultimately yield an inventory of used jukebox records that were then sold at the store. Demand grew and customers started asking about the availability of new records.

As the records began to outsell the appliances, Matassa came up with the idea of adding a recording booth in the back of the store, where people could come in for a fee and cut a record of their voice or anything else they wanted to. Word got around, and local bands came in to record their music. As this became more commonplace, copies of these local records would make their way to the storefront, resulting in even more business.

The Matassa family were reaping reasonable profits, and Cosimo was enjoying the added benefit of recording and selling the local music that he loved. However, the game would change dramatically on Saturday, December 10th, 1949. Imperial Records owner Lew Chudd was in town with one of his employees, Louisiana native Dave Bartholomew. Arguably the most accomplished and technically proficient musician to be based out of that area, Bartholomew worked for Imperial records as an arranger, songwriter, and talent scout.

Chudd had asked Bartholomew to take him around town to see some of the best local talent New Orleans had to offer. It wasn’t long before they found themselves at a local dive in the 9th ward checking out a set by Fats Domino. It became clear that this was the act to record, so a session was arranged for that aforementioned Saturday at J&M, the only studio in town.

One of the songs recorded on that day was called “The Fat Man”, and while there can never be a definitive first ever Rock and Roll record that everybody agrees on, it can be said without a doubt that “The Fat Man” is one of the earliest records ever made that helped shape the genre. At first, it was only a local hit during that Christmas. However, after selling a reported 10,000 copies in New Orleans in a mere 10 days, the record broke nationally in January of 1950.

The success of “The Fat Man” created a gradual groundswell of sorts, building up to the point where independent record companies like Specialty, Aladdin and Chess entered the scene. These companies, who were already enjoying considerable success recording R&B artists from other areas of the country came sniffing around New Orleans saying to Cosimo, “This area has got some good records coming out , and we want to record some”. He would then take them to all the places and let them hear whoever in his opinion was worth hearing. As a self described “general direction pusher”, Matassa took great pride in calling attention to the artists that he loved. Even though he was essentially doing the work of an Executive Producer and/or A&R man, he would be the first to admit that he was not market conscious enough to understand that he could’ve in fact charged considerable fees for these services.

As a result, New Orleans was to early Rock ‘n Roll what California was to the Gold Rush. The independent record companies came in and strip mined the area, paying Matassa nominal fees for studio time (15 dollars an hour plus the cost of materials) along with musicians receiving bare minimum royalties or sometimes nothing at all, a result of what Matassa describes as “questionable accounting”.

As the Fifties progressed, Cosimo became busier and busier, as more record labels from across the country migrated down in search of his expertise. “ I practically lived in that place…(The studio)…We’d start at nine o’ clock in the morning, and sometimes wouldn’t get out until midnight. We never charged for overtime, and that would go on for seven days a week”.

So what was the secret? What made these records sound so good? Part of the answer lies in the talent. Matassa was fortunate that people like Dave Bartholomew , Earl Palmer, and other great musicians were around and available. He is in fact , the first to defer all of the credit to them, rather than himself. There were other fortuitous random instances as well, such as the time when a Jewish Synagogue allowed him to purchase a Telefunken Neumann 47 state of the art microphone for a fraction of what it cost. The congregation did not want the microphone because it was German!

At first, probably up until 1954 or so, all performances were cut direct to disc, obviously with no tape editing. Matassa comments on those days by saying, “Those were the good performances, probably some of the best. Because they really WERE performances as opposed to the synthesized record you make today, when you lay down the rhythm and start putting things on top of it, three months and 12 sessions later nobody remembers what the original thing was really going to be like”.

Matassa also had the technical expertise from both being “naturally technically oriented” and by being a member of AES (Audio Engineering Society). “that helped me immediately. I got back issues of the journals and stuff like that. I got myself oriented really
easily. Going to conventions and talking to and meeting with people who were doing anything I was starting to do was a big help too”
More important than all those things though, was his uncanny instincts combined with his emotional connection towards what was being recorded. “I would always pride myself in being able to walk into a studio, stick the right microphone in the right place, set up a group and record them. Just like a guy who lays a lot of bricks, he knows how to grab a brick and a trowel”

“If you transmit an emotion to the listener, it’s a good record…it’s gonna be a successful record. Now, having said that, how you measure it, I don’t know how you predict it. I have not a clue. Because it just happens, and then everybody’s aware of it, you know.. it’s fundamental. And yet totally evasive”.

Although far from a household name, Cosimo Matassa is chiefly responsible for what is now known as the New Orleans Sound. His approach featured strong bass, heavy drums, and a strong vocal lead combined with light piano and horn. Legend has it that the knobs in his control room never moved from where they were permanently set. Virtually every R&B record made in New Orleans between the late 1940’s and the early 1970’s was engineered by Matassa and recorded in one of his four studios. A partial listing below reads like a who’s who of popular music during that time frame.

Goin Home-Fats Domino- (#1 Hit)
Good Rockin’ Tonight-Roy Brown-
Long About Midnight-Roy Brown-(#1 hit)
Lawdy Miss Clawdy-Lloyd Price -(#1 hit)
My Ding-a-ling-Dave Bartholomew- not a hit but Chuck Berry’s version did also hit #1
Honey Hush-Joe Turner(#1-widely considered as the forerunner to “Shake, Rattle and Roll”)
The Things I used To Do-Guitar Slim- (#1 hit)
Jock-A –Mo-Sugar Boy Crawford--later recorded as “Iko Iko”
Blue Monday-Smiley Lewis-
I hear you Knockin’ Smiley Lewis-
Poor Me-Fats Domino-(#1 hit)
Tutti Frutti”-little Richard
See You Later, Alligator-Bobby Charles
Long Tall Sally-Little Richard-(#1 hit)
Rip It Up-Little Richard –(#1 hit)
Ready teddy-Little Richard
Lucille-Little Richard
The Girl Can’t Help It-Little Richard
Jenny, Jenny-Little Richard
Good Golly Miss Molly-Little Richard
Let The Good Times Roll-Shirley And Lee-
I’m Walkin’ Fats Domino-(#1 hit)
Sea Cruise-Frankie Ford
First ever recordings by Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Rivers, and Allen Toussaint
Walkin to New Orleans-Fats Domino
I Want To Walk You Home-Fats Domino (#1hit)

Mother in Law-Ernie K Doe(#1 hit)
Ya Ya- Lee Dorsey

When asked about his legendary sound and his immense contribution to popular music, Matassa exclaimed humbly, “I don’t know if you can call the Cosimo Sound that distinctive. I tend to feel less about that than other people seem to. I’m not impressed with myself”. When asked about his status as a pioneer in the field of Rock ‘n Roll recordings he quipped.. “Pioneer…that’s the guy with an ass full of arrows”.

Discovering The New Orleans Soul Sound

Earlier this year, while reviewing several (if not most) of the 45 Rpm records that were released during 1969 there were several great memories and more than a few new discoveries. One of those records however, has led me to a virtual gusher of great music from not only the same approximate time frame, but dating all the way back to before the birth of Rock And Roll as we know it.

That record was “Break In The Road” by Betty Harris, a stunning example of 1960’s soul from New Orleans, Louisiana. It was written, produced and recorded by the great Allen Toussaint using his house band known as The Meters. Among the track’s many highlights are the searing guitar feedback by Leo Nocentelli, and the propulsive parade-style drumming of Ziggy Modeliste, his kit pushed way up in the mix by Toussaint. George Porter’s bass line anchors the whole recording, which is a landmark example of the amalgam of styles that make up the New Orleans sound.



Turns out that this was the last record Betty Harris would appear on. The phrase “tip of the iceberg” comes to mind as I begin to research this. There are so many possible directions to go in, from Eddie Bo, to Huey “Piano” Smith, Fats Domino, Lee Dorsey, who also recorded extensively with the aforementioned Toussaint, and many, many more.

The records by Lee Dorsey alone are so monstrous in their righteous groovy-ness it’s nothing less than a true eye opener to me. Best known for “Ya, Ya” and “Working In The Coalmine”, Dorsey also recorded many other fantastic records like “Give It Up” and “Yes, We Can”. I have yet to find a dud amongst them.

It goes without saying that Fats Domino is a Rock and Roll legend, but I still could not help but marvel at the sheer number of influential classic hits he actually had. Domino is easily New Orleans’s most prolific hit maker, but his peers recorded bunches of stuff that were just as good, and it boggles my mind as to why more of this music did not reach a wider audience.

You can try to go back as far as possible to trace this path from Jazz to Blues to Rock and Roll, but you wont find an actual date when one genre stopped and was replaced by another. The trails overlap each other and can be more accurately traced within the performances and recordings of the musicians from that area doing whatever it took to get a gig. From Dixieland Jazz bands working Rhythm and Blues tunes into their repertoire to musicians that would play in both Dixieland and Modern Jazz bands at the same time during any one day or weekend, New Orleans musicians were eclectic jacks of all trades that could play whatever, and whenever.

The authenticity of the actual recordings is the real payoff for me. This was 2 track technology recorded on a budget with little or no overdubs. The band simply had to play the tune from start to finish until they got it right with as few mistakes as possible. Guitars, pianos and other instruments that occasionally shift in and out of tune makes for the virtual cherry on top.

Nowhere is this more apparent than within the recording of Guitar Slim’s 1953 smash hit, “The Things I Used To Do”, which is widely acknowledged as one of the records that helped shape Rock And Roll. Backed by a young Ray Charles on piano playing his own arrangement, you can hear Ray shout out an audible “yeah!” near the very end of the track. This exclamation was not so much a cry of enthusiasm for what was being laid down as much as it was a sigh of relief that they finally made it through the entire track without any flubs!

Guitar Slim had a distinctive playing style, very much ahead of the curve towards what other players were doing from a melodic standpoint. It would be almost two years before followers like Chuck Berry burst onto the scene, although it seems that both men were influenced by the great Texas blues guitarist T-Bone Walker.

Like I said earlier, there are more directions to go in at this point than you can count. Research Fats Domino and you will no doubt uncover Dave Bartholomew. Trace the history of Allen Toussaint, and you will eventually end up finding out about Eddie Bo and Professor Longhair. Look into them both, and you will find out about Cosimo Matassa, whose J&M recording studio was the birthplace for so many of these seminal works.

I hope to write about all of these people and many more in depth at a later time, because even though the history is well documented for those that want to seek it, it still seems to be history that is not widely known. The origins of everything that was ever musical emanates from this region, with no disrespect intended towards Detroit, Chicago, New York, Memphis or any other scene .

It just seems that those other regions get talked up much more often than New Orleans does. Combine that with the fact that fewer records out of New Orleans “broke” nationally than out of any other region, and it makes for a thrilling first time listening experience. This music is an unrecognized part of our history, and what I want to do is convey this excitement in order to get our readers not so much to pick up a book, but to play and appreciate the records. As Lee Dorsey sang on “Give It Up”, “Don’t wait another longer…”.

The Battle Over “Iko Iko”

If you were ever to find yourself in New Orleans, Louisiana during Mardi Gras, it would be hard to not hear many of the local musicians singing and playing “Iko Iko”. The song tells a story regarding two warring tribes of Mardi Gras parade Indians. The tradition surrounding these parades dates back to the mid 19th century, and possibly even before.

The song depicts a chance meeting between a “Spy Boy” from one tribe and a “Flag Boy” from an opposing one. As the tradition goes, the spy boy would run ahead of the tribe, and the flag boy in between. The flag would bear the colors of the tribe and the flag boy would wave it to communicate messages back to the tribe’s chief.

Now it must be understood that this tradition is rooted in violence, so it’s no wonder that in the song’s lyrics the spy boy threatens to set the flag of the opposing tribe on fire. There were about 38 different tribes in and around the New Orleans area, and they had a penchant for starting brutal fights with one another. So dangerous were these altercations from generations ago, it used to be that when Mardi Gras Indians marched through neighborhoods, the townspeople would run away. Fortunately, the tradition has evolved away from fisticuffs and more towards which tribe has the most appealing costumes, and who sings and dances better. So now, people run towards the tribes in order to witness the colorful spectacle and be entertained.



The earliest example of this tradition is steeped in the cultures of African-Americans and Native Americans sharing a common bond as oppressed minorities. By disguising themselves as Indians, the Black people were able to avoid some of the inhumane racial segregation laws put forth by the white man. The tradition may have also evolved out of African – Americans dressing up as Indians to pay tribute to them for helping runaway slaves escape from capture.

Since the subject matter of the song goes back so far, the lyrics lend themselves to many opinions as to their origin. Some trace it back to Choctaw and Chickasaw Indians, while other linguists and historians feel that it’s either West African or even Haitian. What is certain though is that the song’s lyrics were lifted directly from those tradition rich parade tribes of New Orleans in 1953 by James “Sugar Boy” Crawford, who was attempting to use the street language of the day to cobble together a hit song in the same fashion that Lloyd Price did a year earlier with “Lawdy Miss Clawdy”.

“Iko Iko”, released under it’s original title of “Jock A Mo”, was a moderate hit locally in and around New Orleans, but never broke nationally. The lyric was actually sung by Crawford as “chock-o-mo”, but the record company misspelt the title of the song before sending it off to be manufactured.

Crawford’s band , Sugar Boy And The Cane Cutters, had earned some local status as a live act . His performing career though, would come to an abrupt halt when he was beaten up badly after a gig by some “rednecks” somewhere between the Mississippi/Louisiana state lines near the small town of Bogalusa.

Fast forward 13 years later to 1965. The Dixie Cups, a girl group vocal trio with all three members hailing from New Orleans are in a New York City recording session with record producers/songwriters Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller. During some down time, the three ladies begin singing a song their grandmother taught them, tapping studio ashtrays with drumsticks as accompaniment. Unbeknownst to them, Leiber and Stoller left the tapes running and the basic track for their next record, “Iko Iko” was in the can within the blink of an eye. After additional bass and drums were added, it would be released as a 45 rpm single and reach #20 on the Billboard charts, making it The Dixie Cups’ last bona fide hit record.

The Dixie Cups and their management knew very little about the origins of the song, much less it’s author. So when it was released the songwriting credits were given to their three members. Soon after that, they found themselves in a lawsuit with James Crawford, who claimed that “Iko Iko” was exactly the same as his composition, “Jock A Mo”.

The two parties would settle out of court in 1967, with the agreement that although Crawford could never claim authorship or ownership of “Iko Iko”, he would be credited a 50% royalty for public performances and radio broadcasts of the tune. Even though the two songs are clearly identical, Crawford elected to settle rather than continue to fight the battle while receiving no royalty at all. His reasoning being that it’s “better to get 50 percent of something as opposed to 100% of nothing”.

During the 1990’s, yet another group would claim to have written the song. The Dixie Cups’ former manager Joe Jones filed a copyright registration in 1991, stating that he had written it in 1963. Jones even went so far as to license the song for the Hollywood film, “Mission Impossible 2”. The Dixie Cups filed a lawsuit against Jones, and earned a unanimous verdict in their favor.

One of the most well known songs to ever come out of the New Orleans region, “Iko Iko” has been covered by a diverse range of artists from The Grateful Dead to Cyndi Lauper, Warren Zevon, Dr. John, and many, many others.

A 2002 interview that James Crawford gave to “Offbeat Magazine” is perhaps the best summary of how he unconsciously tapped into the rich tapestry of this country’s checkered history, and composed a song that will live forever.

Interviewer: How did you construct 'Jock-A-Mo?'
Crawford: It came from two Indian chants that I put music to. “Iko Iko” was like a victory chant that the Indians would shout. “Jock-A-Mo” was a chant that was called when the Indians went into battle. I just put them together and made a song out of them. Really it was just like "Lawdy Miss Clawdy". That was a phrase everybody in New Orleans used. Lloyd Price just added music to it and it became a hit. I was just trying to write a catchy song....
Interviewer: Listeners wonder what 'Jock-A-Mo' means. Some music scholars say it translates in Mardi Gras Indian lingo as 'Kiss my ass,' and I’ve read where some think 'Jock-A-Mo' was a court jester. What does it mean?
Crawford: I really don't know. (laughs)

Ooh im blogging from my mobile phone

Upscale Gyros

There was a show that I caught on The Cooking Channel the other day called "Cook Like An Iron Chef". It had a recipe for lamb that looked a little different, so I thought i'd try it.It ended up being too much work given the outcome which was a type of upscale gyro, albeit with no bread. However, there were some very good components within the recipe that I just may work into my regular repitoire.

First off, fresh oregano is awesome in salad. The recipe called for a vinegarette dressing that used fresh chopped oregano with radish, cucumber and radish greens. Radish greens are too bitter for me, so I just substituted romaine lettuce. The fresh oregano stripped off the stalks and chopped fine made for an awesome break from the salad blahs. Great flavor and highly recommended.

Secondly, the lamb itself was dredged in flour, dipped in egg and then coated with a mixture of panko bread crumbs and grated parmesan. While I am certainly no stranger to the extra crispy wonders of panko, it had never occurred to me to mix grated cheese into the crumbs. Previously, I would start with cheese, then egg, and then the plain panko. The result here was a much more tasty crust, not to mention an overall more consistent golden brown appearance.

So when we plated this thing, we started by putting down a yogurt sauce called "tzaziki" that was ok, but it was made with greek yogurt which also is just too bitter in flavor for me. The yogurt was mixed with some grated cucumber, lemon,garlic, salt and pepper. it was okay, but I just cant see myself reaching for that recipe again. The lamb cutlets went on top, with the salad on top of that. It actually tasted pretty good, and the textures of crispy,creamy and crunchy went well together.

So although the dinner that night was only a mild success, it did yield some interesting flavor techniques and combinations that I may in fact find myself returning to at some later date.

Putting It Down For Awhile

Today I let the folks over at Rock NYC know that I wont be submitting any blog posts over there anymore, at least for the immediate future. Which probably means that there will probably not be a lot going on over here , either.

My feeling is that i've taken this thing about as far as I can go, and have some very loose plans to do more listening and reading with the aim of writing longer in depth pieces broken down into blog friendly installments.

So although there are big plans ahead, they mostly involve not writing over the short term, with an eye on an improved product down the road.

Or this could be all bullshit and I might write something tomorrow. I just don't want to write because I have to, I want to write when i'm ready to. When I have all my facts in line and have done the proper research to do a truly informative piece. In short, the exact opposite of what you would encounter on a typical blog.

At the risk of tipping my hand, I have a very unstructured plan in place to immerse myself into a musical timeframe and/or genre I know little or nothing about, and then emerge from that documenting what i've learned. So, thanks for reading and I hope to provide some comprehensive and factual content soon.

Cheers,
Mike.

“Brian Wilson Re-imagines Gershwin” Reviewed.

When this thing works (which is about 40% of the time), it’s fantastic. Wilson scores high marks on the mini “Porgy and Bess” suite that kicks off three tracks in, and his vocal delivery on “I Loves You, Porgy” may actually rank among his greatest. “I Got Plenty on Nuttin’” gets a “Pet Sounds” treatment with bass harmonicas and rollicking honky-tonk piano, and the 30 second string segment that closes the track is achingly beautiful.

“They Can’t Take That Away From Me”, from the 1937 musical “Shall We Dance” gets the “Help Me, Rhonda” treatment to great success. The record’s opener “Rhapsody In Blue” , is a brilliant partial a cappella version that highlights Wilson’s most enduring musical gift, where all the vocal parts get layered together to tremendous effect.

However, there are too many instances here where the vocal blend gets very formulaic, and the project starts to take on the sound of a Ray Conniff record. While someone like Taylor Mills can no doubt deliver technical precision on the high end of these vocal harmonies, there is a lack of emotion and soul here that ultimately detracts from the proceedings. Over the long haul, it just gets too same-y and at times is just flat out annoying.

Despite all this, Wilson has delivered a Grammy friendly effort just prior to the August deadline to be eligible this coming February. It will no doubt, garner several nominations and may actually turn out to be the love fest we’ve witnessed in years past for the likes of Eric Clapton, Steely Dan and others. For all the great music he has given us during the turmoil and agony of his personal life, Brian Wilson would most certainly deserve it.

“It’s Just A Question Of Style” The Bill Nelson playlist

One of the finest guitarists to ever plug in, Bill Nelson is also one of the most reluctant axe heroes of his era. From 1974 to 1978, Bill wrote all the songs, arranged them , played guitar and sang lead vocals for the British band Be-Bop Deluxe.

The band defied categorization during a time where image and substance went hand in hand. Instead of going toe to toe visually with the likes of Bowie, Bolan and Mercury, Nelson opted instead to concentrate on his songwriting craft, consistently churning out quality that equaled and in most cases even exceeded that of his peers.

Science Fiction was one of Bill’s recurring songwriting themes, but he also wrote poetically about love, passion, lust and longing. Despite a high quality run of albums and almost constant touring, the band never achieved mainstream success and Bill disbanded the group in 1978, moving on to other avenues of self expression.

The work he left behind however, influenced practically all of the UK pop groups that succeeded him during the 80’s and beyond. It’s all magnificent, but here is the cream of the crop.

1) “Axe Victim”- The opening salvo off the album of the same name which contains that incredible lyric lamenting the life of a rock and roller, “Last night I felt immortal, this morning I feel dead”.

2) “Maid In Heaven”-Nelson made a fresh start for his second album, replacing all the band members and enlisting Roy Thomas Baker of Queen fame to produce. This track, taken from the album, “Futurama” is a hidden diamond buried deep within the musical landscape of 1975.

3) “Sister Seagull”-Also from “Futurama”, Nelson’s melodic ideas and brilliant lead guitar runs are on full display here. Although he could never shake off the constant comparisons to Bowie and other glam rockers of the day, listening to this track makes you realize Nelson was a trail blazer, and not a follower.

4) “Heavenly Homes”-1976’s “Sunburst Finish” yielded a UK top 40 hit for the band with “Ships In The Night”, a reggae tinged love song. This track though, displays Be-Bop’s “heavier” leanings as the guitar riffs get a little darker and the lyrics continue to shift more towards the oblique.

5) “Life In The Air Age”-Perhaps the greatest ever marriage between Rock and Sci-Fi, Nelson mutes all the strings of his guitar, strumming a percussive “chunka chunka” sound on the intro, before delivering a soaring signature lead guitar melody that should have been world famous. The lyrics are set in the future, yearning for a simpler time, saying that “Life In The Air-Age isn’t all that the brochures say…too dangerous to stay…airships crashing every day into the bay.. all highways in the sky…all the oceans have run dry” and finally…”It’s grim enough to make a robot cry”.

6) “Modern Music”-Lyrically, Nelson was first and foremost, a romantic. This track is one of the best examples of that as he simply but poignantly pleads to a far away lover to stay true to him.

7) “The Gold At The End Of My Rainbow”-The internet consensus over the “Modern Music” album is that much of it was written during an extended tour of the United States in 1976. In addition to writing about his observations of America, Nelson was also homesick and this message to his then wife back at home is sheer glorious poetry.

8) “New Precision” –From 1978’s “Drastic Plastic” LP, this effort has Nelson veering away from the guitar and more towards a synth-pop sound, using sequencers, vocal treatments and other similar types of rhythmic options. Groundbreaking for it’s time and influential towards an entire generation of New Wavers, the album’s overall place in rock history continues to rise slowly but steadily.

9) “Don’t Touch Me, I’m Electric”- After disbanding Be-Bop Deluxe, Nelson re-emerged in 1979 with “Red Noise”. Here, Nelson travels even further into the void, working with even more synths and employing the most manic herky-jerky rhythm patterns he would ever attempt up to this point. The record is not for everybody, but if you love this, the album’s first track then you’re sure to willingly inhale the whole thing. If “Drastic Plastic” can be considered influential, then “Red Noise” is even more so as Nelson casts all commercial trappings to the side and delivers a frightening high speed isolated snapshot of a world going wrong.

The John Wetton Playlist

John Wetton is as nomadic of a musician as they come. From his early seventies stint with the criminally underrated British band Family to his baffling eventual mainstream success with the pseudo-prog outfit known as Asia, this guy has been around the block and then some.

On bass he is known for his powerful, heavy handed approach. One story conveyed to me by a friend who saw him play with Roxy Music back in the day swears that he saw Wetton actually break the E string on his Fender Precision.

Looking at his discography, I noted that he also has released more than his share of solo and live solo albums that have not even been released widely here in the US. So it would appear that internationally he does garner some semblance of star power.

Today however, we are going to go with what we know, and attempt to piece together a play list of John Wetton’s most memorable tracks. Listed in no particular order are…

1) “Save Some For Thee” – Family –1971- The last cut on side one of the spectacular “Fearless” LP, John sings what amounts to a duet with lead singer Roger Chapman. They were mostly popular in the UK, but here in the US it seems they were too bluesy to be accepted by prog-heads and too proggy to be welcomed into the heavy riff-meister crowd. Getting on Bill Graham’s bad side during a US tour didn’t help matters much either. Suffice to say, that they created some of the most original music of that era. This track starts out with just bass, drums and piano, but then piles on added pieces until we have a full on marching band at the fade.

2) “Take Your Partners”-Family-1971- Also from “Fearless” , the first cut on side 2 is a high octane rocker with that Wetton bass churning and thumping to lead the way.

3) “Spanish Tide”-Family-1971-Guilty as charged, I really love the “Fearless” album. On this track, John sings solo on that glorious bridge section as well as harmony on the choruses.

4) “My Friend The Sun”-Family-1972-This is from the “Bandstand” album, and I think I remember Rock NYC correspondent Bob Nevin telling me he had the 45, which raised his “Nessing Cool Factor” to infinite. Great background vocal track by Wetton , and Roger Chapman delivers one of his most beautiful vocal leads. Chapman was mostly known for his powerful range and vibrato (think Steve Marriott to the fourth power), but here his voice turns up really sweet.

5) “Lark’s Tounges In Aspic, Part Two”-1973-King Crimson-From the album of the approximate same name, I actually could easily recommend the whole enchilada. A high watermark not just in the progressive vein, but in the entire output of late 20th century music.

6) “Lament”-1974-King Crimson—On their way towards becoming the most powerful of power trios, Wetton delivers an astounding vocal here. Not to be outdone, Robert Fripp and Bill Bruford match him riff for riff.

7) “Red”-1974-King Crimson—From the album of the same name, “Red” is as powerful a track as I’ve ever heard by anyone. Industrial Rock, Grunge Rock, Post Metal, Speed Metal, you name it, it can all be traced back to this band and perhaps even this song.

8) “Do The Strand (live)” 1976- Roxy Music- The live album “Viva” is the most obvious place to find this but bootleg live recordings of Roxy with Wetton on bass and Eddie Jobson on keys and violin are worth seeking out. When this band performed in concert, they took no freaking prisoners.

9) “In The Dead Of Night” 1978-U.K.---Progressive Rock’s odd quartet consisted of one experimental side (Bill Bruford and Guitarist Allan Holdsworth) pitted against the increasingly more commercial leanings of Wetton and Jobson. This particular configuration of the band only lasted long enough to release one album, which although could be critically described as inconsistent has more than it’s share of great moments. Wetton’s vocals on this track are raw, unpolished and pretty damn great.

The Alex Chilton Playlist

I’ve been listening to a lot of the Big Star box set, “Keep An Eye On The Sky” this summer, and I cannot emphasize enough how great it is. I’ve also been listening to some of the Alex Chilton solo work, specifically “Like Flies On Sherbert” and while it’s also great, it shares that distinction for a whole set of entirely different reasons.

The entire Big Star catalog is a masterpiece. A shimmering, towering template of the entire genre of what would later be known as power pop. Songs with hooks to spare, played brilliantly with emphasis on guitar jangle, punchy bass and powerful drums that tie it all together.

“Like Flies On Sherbert” is the exact opposite. This record is Chilton giving the middle finger on both hands to the entire recording process and the music industry, to boot. Similar to what Brian Wilson did when he released “Smiley Smile”, but 100 times more blatant. The album is loaded with false starts, errors and hap hazardous vocals.

It’s unclear how much of the recording of this was accidental or on purpose, but there is no doubt that the mistakes were left in for all to witness. It was a conscious decision by Chilton to have the record sound sloppy. Producer Jim Dickinson goes so far as to say that during the recording of this ragged masterpiece there were times on some songs where “there was nobody in the control room”. Instruments used for the recording were sometimes not fully functional or in some cases broken entirely.

It’s open debate as to why Chilton did this, but he provides some insight here: When sessions began he thought to himself, "’Man these guys don't know the songs...this must sound terrible'. But when I went in the control room and heard what we’d been doing, it was just incredible sounding. Getting involved with Dickinson opened up a new world for me. Before that I'd been into careful layerings of guitars and voices and harmonies and things like that, and Dickinson showed me how to go into the studio and just create a wild mess and make it sound really crazy and anarchic. That was a growth for me."[

If you can get past the records blatant anti-commercial stance, it is at it’s core, a do it yourself tour-de-force with flaws that actually make it sound better. Kind of like a hand-made charm bracelet that makes your wrist turn green. I recommend approaching it in small doses at first, juxtaposed against his more polished Big Star work if possible.

The Big Star Playlist

“The Ballad Of El Goodo”-There’s a lyric bit on the second verse that goes “People round you tell you that they know…The places they have been, and it's easy to go…They'll zip you up and dress you down, and stand you in their role…You know you don't have to…You can just say no” In many ways that’s what “Like Flies On Sherbert” is all about….just saying “no”.

“Thirteen”- The ultimate coming of age ballad. Indestructible in it’s sentiment, delivered it that yearning trademark Chilton warble. Thank God nobody’s ruined this song by using it to sell pimple cream or something.

“When My Baby’s Beside Me” – To me, good rock and roll is supposed to be uplifting. This thing never fails to take me to the outer edge of the stratosphere.

“Daisy Glaze” This was the song that eventually made me realize how great Big Star really were. I had been listening to them for a few months and when I heard this track about the seventh or eighth time, it was a bonafide “holy shit” moment. It plods along at the beginning, providing the perfect contrast and subtext for the power pop payoff.

“You Get What You Deserve”- I’ve read rumors that some of these songs may have been written or co-written by Chris Bell. One of Big Star’s original members, he reportedly left after the first album, but may have anonymously turned up on some of these later efforts. Bell is another dominant figure in the Big Star story and will probably be the subject of a future blog piece. Either way, this on many days is my all time favorite Big Star track. Perfect verse, perfect chorus, followed by a killer power chord bridge. Then a guitar solo takes us back to the verse, but not before three beautifully understated taps of a snare drum.

The “Like Flies On Sherbert” playlist

“Hey! Little Child!” These sloppy double-tracked drums trip over each other at the outset before settling into a rudimentary groove. And what a groove it is.

“Walk Across Texas” You can almost taste the moonshine.

“Boogie Shoes” The piano bit is almost prolific. The guitar parts and vocals are a complete mess. The overall effect is just so damn charming.

“I’ve Had It”-The very essence of what Rock and Roll is supposed be. Three chords, no net. Listen and be amazed as Alex slurs and slithers his way over and around this incredible piece of authentic garage rock. If you’re listening and not on the floor convulsing in laughter, then you’re not alive.

In praise of the humble dawg

Hot dogs. They’re bad for you. They taste like shit. So why are they so good? Maybe it’s because they just act as a vehicle for whatever you like to put on them. Like wasabi on sushi. I love sushi too, but honestly I don’t crave the taste of raw salmon or tuna as much as I crave the sticky rice, chewy seaweed, and most importantly the nose flaring pungency of that sea green paste. Oh yeah, and lots of soy sauce.

Much like sushi, the tube steak and its cohort the bun serve as a virtual delivery system for what we really want to eat. Mustard and relish make a great combo and a nice crunchy contrast to that warm pink steamy vessel. Who could deny the glorious rapture of chili and cheese? Or the authentic mid-European tang of sauerkraut and onion dotted with bits of artery clogging salt pork.

Recently, I’ve discovered that cole slaw makes for a wonderful topping for a grilled doggy. Last night, I was trying to use up a head of cabbage that I’d had for a while and didn’t want to have to throw it out later. So, I commenced to grating. Memories of my dad came flooding back to mind as I recalled his own famous cole slaw. Other than his penchant for using Cain’s mayonnaise, I really have no idea how he made it, but I’m sure there was no recipe per se, and he just eyeballed everything.

I used a box grater to shred this stuff nice and fine so it would suck up that mayonnaise right away. If you grate it too thick, the cabbage stays too crunchy unless you let it sit overnight. Then I shredded a couple of carrots the same way. Had to settle for Hellman’s instead of Cain’s, then shook out some salt and pepper. Then I added about a tablespoon or so of Italian salad dressing, just for a little complexity. I don’t really know how much mayo I used, maybe a half a cup to about one small head of cabbage.

The end result was pure bliss. After grilling those dogs a little bit, and sliding them into those gluten rich white bread overcoats, we then piled on the slaw. The creamy, crunchy texture provided the perfect counterpart for that soft bread and the mysterious meat wrapped up in that crunchy intestinal casing. Swallowing this oversized bullet in two or three glorious mouthfuls, the idea of wasabi paste on a hot dog came to mind. Hmm, it would be much less messy and clear your sinuses too. Perhaps next time.

"Brian Wilson Re-imagines Gershwin" to be released on 8/17-I rehash his solo career today.

Thirty second sound samples of the new Brian Wilson record hit Amazon.com late last week, and I have to say, I’m somewhat encouraged by them. This is great news to me because in my opinion, Wilson’s solo career is a mixed bag of highs and lows (mostly lows).

We have to go all the way back to 1966, and “Caroline, No” to chart BW’s solo work to it’s very beginning. Although it appeared on the Beach Boys Pet Sounds album, the 45 release was credited to him as a solo artist. Granted, it’s a tough act to follow, but it hurts me as a fan to realize that other than a few shimmering moments, it’s mostly downhill from there.

It wouldn’t be until 1988 that Wilson would follow this up with his first proper solo LP. “Brian Wilson”, although somewhat drenched in dated production techniques that would soil so much of what was released in the eighties, was still a good and in some instances a great collection of songs. They served to not only bring him back into the public eye, but also boded well for the future.

The follow up, “Sweet Insanity” was rejected by Sire Records and it’s hard to understand why. Perhaps Wilson’s collaboration with his psychiatrist and that doctor's subsequent exposure as someone who was allegedly taking advantage of the man resulted in too much negative publicity. Either way, a pretty decent effort was left to rot on the shelf where it remains to this day.

In the fall of 1994, Wilson released “I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times” , an album of new recordings consisting of some of Wilson’s best loved tunes spanning his entire career produced by the "It" producer of that moment, Don Was. I can still remember my excitement as I walked to the record store on my lunch break to snag my copy on the day it was released. The original versions are still better for the most part, but this was a pretty good record and I actually prefer the versions of “Melt Away” and “Love And Mercy” here over the originals. It was also a treat to hear Wilson singing lead on some of the vocals originally handed to Mike Love back in the day on things like “Meant For You” and “Do It Again”. Overall, a solid effort.

I’m disqualifying “Orange Crate Art” from these proceedings because from a songwriting standpoint, it is essentially a Van Dyke Parks album with Brian on vocals.

That brings us to 1998’s “Imagination”, which is not terrible, but pales in comparison to the quality of the songs Wilson collaborated on with Andy Paley from around the same time frame that were unceremoniously scrapped. These were supposed to be released and for a time were even considered to be the main output of a Beach Boys album to be produced by Sean O’Hagan of The High Llamas. Some reports indicate that Carl Wilson and Mike Love lost interest in the endeavor, causing Brian to just drop the whole project and start over again. Other reports, such as the one in Britain’s “Uncut” magazine, seemed to hint that Wilson’s new wife Melinda, was trying to sway Brian away from the project and more towards the adult contemporary sound that permeates much of “Imagination”. It has some good songs, but the overly slick and antiseptic production kills the good time for me.

Not counting the two live albums (At The Roxy and Pet Sounds Live), it would be another six years before 2004’s “Getting’ In Over My Head” would reach store shelves. This unfortunate effort is mostly a mixed bag of “Sweet Insanity” tracks, and some songs from The Andy Paley collaboration finally seeing their official light of day. Unfortunately, this pot pourii of leftovers never makes it off the ground, despite it’s good intentions.

Hardcore Beach Boys fans know all about 1967’s ill – fated SMiLE project, intended to be the follow up to “Pet Sounds”. The album was never released, falling victim to it’s own lofty ambition, combined with dissension within the band regarding it’s musical approach. Over time, that music would become stuff of legend, as bootlegs would find their way into better record stores and on the internet.

Wilson would finally return to that music in late 2003, recording new versions and most importantly, stringing all the bits and fragments together in a working order to present a finished piece. “Brian Wilson Presents SMiLE” was one of the most positively reviewed records of 2004, and perhaps of all time. Although the jury is still out as to whether or not it was exactly put together the way it was initially intended, it’s miles closer than the tape fragments we had up to this point, and great care was taken to re-record that music as closely as possible to the original tapes, save for a few synthesized orchestral parts that turn up here and there.

After the release of a Christmas album that honestly I never even bothered to spin, Wilson returned in 2008 with “That Lucky Old Sun”. Although the loose concept and at times annoying narratives fall a little flat for me, It can arguably be stated that TLOS is the best collection of new Brian Wilson songs since the 1988 debut. In addition to this, it seems that more care is taken towards the production end of things to make the record sound more natural, without falling victim to some of the unnecessary vocal layering and the overuse of bass harmonicas, sleigh bells, clip clop percussion and other instruments that were purposely used to make “Imagination” and “Getting In Over My Head” sound “Wilson-ey”. In other words, the songs stand on their own a little more during this effort, and it works to the projects advantage.

This brings us to the present day, where we await the release of “Brian Wilson Re-imagines Gershwin” on August 17th. While I intend to review the album properly once it’s available, it would appear (based on the Amazon sound snippets) that the Wilson team has hit upon a winning combination. The songs of course are amazing, all Gershwin classics except for two unfinished pieces that have never been heard before and finished by Brian. The recordings are shimmering and beautiful, but this seems to be brought about by a natural progression and a labor of love rather than incessant turd polishing.

While I continue to reserve judgment until hearing the entire record, I’m once again encouraged by what I’ve heard so far, and combined with the positive buzz that appears to be swelling up around this effort, I’m going to color myself cautiously optimistic.

The Sunshine Bores The Daylights Out Of Me

I once joked to my friend Iman that I could never be a real music critic because I’d never heard “Exile” or “The River”. Although the comment was very much off the cuff, it was rooted in a little bit of truth because I really had not heard those records from start to finish. Also, if you’re really a rock critic it’s your job to hear everything so that when you write something you can do a better job at convincing your readers that you actually know what you’re talking about.

I’ve never been that much of a Springsteen fan. I acknowledge that he is great, but just not my cup of tea. The Stones, on the other hand I’ve been a fan of most of my life, so it’s hard to explain exactly why “Exile On Main Street” never found it’s way to my turntable or hard drive. I was of course, familiar with the three radio hits on the record but not the entire effort.

So, I really felt like I had to rectify this. Spinning “Exile” for the first time a couple of months ago I was compelled to write a post asking really what all the fuss was about. It seemed alright, but it kind of went out of it’s way to sound like some sort of authentic delta blues record. Too forced. My initial knee – jerk opinion was that an album like “Aftermath” had a much higher level of that bluesy authenticity while at the same time not trying half as hard to deliver the goods as “Exile” does.

So I went back to try to find some of the original reviews and I was quite surprised to read that the notices were somewhat mixed. Playboy magazine yearned for “The Stones of Yesteryear”. Circus magazine said “From the sound of things, the Stones weren't exiled on Main Street...they were deported.”

Robert Christgau gave the record an A+. However, even in doing so he acknowledged that it’s not the type of record that’s going to come right out and grab you from the git-go. He wrote, “More than anything else this fagged-out masterpiece is difficult -- how else to describe music that takes weeks to understand? Weary and complicated, barely afloat in its own drudgery, it rocks with extra power and concentration as a result. More indecipherable than ever, submerging Mick's voice under layers of studio murk, it piles all the old themes -- sex as power, sex as love, sex as pleasure, distance, craziness, release -- on top of an obsession with time more than appropriate in over-thirties committed to what was once considered youth music.”

These words seemed to vindicate my initial feelings. I almost felt like a rock critic. Thing is though, Christgau got the point about the record way before I did. He realized before he sat down at his typewriter that the sloppiness and murkiness that permeates “Exile” is precisely the point. He must have listened to the record dozens more times than the guys from Playboy and Circus did, because he did a better job at reviewing it. As I listen to “Exile” while typing this and glancing at his words, it may be the most spot on review ever written.

So, I’m still listening to “Exile On Main Street” this summer, and it’s charms continue to slowly reveal themselves to me with each subsequent spin. It still does not make complete sense yet, but good albums are supposed to challenge you a little bit, aren’t they? This one challenged me a lot, so it might actually be better than just good.

"Can I play you, um, some of the new things I've been doing which I think could be...commercial?"

I first heard “In The Court Of The Crimson King” when I was seven years old. Those who know me may be quick to quip something droll like “well, that explains a lot”, and in retrospect, the album cover alone can be quite a mind fuck for someone so young. But it was the contents within the wax that was the real brain bender. This music was brilliant, challenging, beautiful and scary all at the same time.

“Court” would play almost non stop at my house over much of 1969. Over the course of each subsequent year, each new King Crimson album from “In The Wake Of Poseidon” to “Red” would be bought and placed into heavy rotation on the family’s imitation wood grain stereo console.

Everything about the music seemed larger than life, especially through the eyes of an adolescent. The matte finish of the record jackets, the artwork, the complexities of the music itself, all seemed to be coming from a mountainous peak way up high in the sky.

Even though these childhood fantasies would wane and adolescence would reveal among other things that King Crimson were just a band, it was still surprising that some eight years later the main force behind them was a mere 100 or so miles from my doorstep in Hells Kitchen, NY trying to decide if he even wanted to be a musician anymore.

Robert Fripp disbanded King Crimson sometime during late 1974. Over seven studio albums he went from lead guitarist to almost being kicked out of the band to becoming their only constant member and prime motivator.

After a brief period where he considered among other things joining the priesthood, Fripp would instead would become a free lance axe for hire, playing guitar and sometimes producing records by Peter Gabriel and David Bowie. These sessions kept him busy but may have been somewhat unfulfilling, because in 1977, Fripp traveled to NYC to check out the burgeoning downtown music scene, keen on attempting to hone a new approach and get back his creative spark.

He played and recorded with Blondie and Talking Heads as well as producing the female vocal group The Roches. He also embarked upon a series of collaborations with artists such as Daryl Hall, Eno, Peter Hammill, Jerry Morrata, Phil Collins, Tony Levin, and Terre Roche. Many of these endeavors would be ultimately released on his first solo album, “Exposure”, released in June of 1979.

It comes as no surprise that this eclectic mix of artists would produce one of the most bizarre combinations of styles and sounds ever assembled under a groove. What is surprising is how seamlessly it all flows together. Daryl Hall delivers some of the most beautiful vocals he’s ever recorded on the positively immaculate “North Star”.

Other tracks like “Breathless” and “Disengage” rock ferociously with guitar riffage as heavy as anything Fripp had ever attempted during the Crimson years. The album’s second track, “You Burn Me Up, I’m A Cigarette”, is both a nod to the NYC new wave scene combined with the flavor of classics by rock pioneers such as Jerry Lee Lewis and Chuck Berry.

By the time the sheer beauty of “Water Music” and “Here Comes The Flood” wash over my now over stimulated ear drums, I find myself looking down at my watch, wondering where the last 45 minutes or so have gone. As it was in 1969, 1979, and today the music of Robert Fripp remains beautiful, brilliant, challenging and scary all at the same time.

"Bands Imploded" or "Sweets From A Stranger" reexamined

In May of 1982, British recording artists Squeeze released their 5th studio LP, entitled “Sweets From A Stranger”. The band had worked extremely hard touring particularly in the US up to this point, and this was the first time that an upcoming album release of theirs could be described as “highly anticipated”.

Their previous LP “East Side Story”, had yielded a near top 40 hit in the US with “Tempted”, and the groundwork had been laid for “Sweets” to finally break the band big in the colonies. They had become something of a critic’s darling up to this point , with both “East Side Story” and the LP previous to that , “Argybargy” receiving glowing notices practically across the board. The sales were respectable, but nothing compared to the critical praise being heaped onto the band up to this point.

The band’s record company A&M , decided to make the record buying public aware of this by launching an ad campaign entitled, “When it comes to Squeeze, they can’t be called “critics”.” In addition to ads in all the major print media, the LP jacket itself for “Sweets” was uniquely equipped with a 4” cardboard overleaf along the right side that bellowed not just the ad campaign itself, but excerpts of actual reviews from the band’s previous releases to prove it.

There was just one problem. The actual reviews for “Sweets” were less than stellar. The record was considered either too dark or uninspired, depending on what review you read. This made the ad campaign a bit of an embarrassment. Another world tour by the band would again fail to reap the rewards they’d hoped for. This, among other issues would cause the band to break up shortly after the conclusion of that tour as they would only stay together long enough to release one more single, then calling it quits.

Then something even stranger happened, no pun intended. A compilation of Squeeze singles released by A&M records began shifting units. Lots of units. The type of record sales the band had hoped for during their career but never achieved started happening in a major way. “Singles, 45’s and Under” went to #3 in the UK, and even though it only went as high as #47 in the US, it sold consistently over a long enough period of time to earn it platinum status.

Even casual followers of the band can tell you that they reformed a couple of years after this, to varying degrees of success. “Sweets From A Stranger” though, still carries that bad reputation as a dark, brooding affair, released by a band that had burnt itself out. A better explanation may be that despite a few clunkers, the songs were of an overall high quality and that the some of the choices made during the recording process were the true culprit.

“Out Of Touch” kicks off the proceedings here and it is certainly an odd choice for an album’s opener. It seems like an attempt to deliver a grown up version of “Take Me, I’m Yours” with it’s bleating synths and unique rhythm track. Lyrically, the song has some fine moments (“I won’t comb my hair for you anymore..”) but ultimately the rhythm track lacks the musical bite of the lyric and there is no clear-cut hook.

“I Can’t Hold On” is more of a stab at the classic Squeeze sound, but you get the feeling that by this time the band could churn out this type of song in their sleep. So only two tracks in, and we have an attempt to forge a new direction, only to have that come crashing to a halt by following that up with the basic formula. This confusion continues over much of the record.

“Points Of View” is a winner on all counts. This mid tempo ballad highlights all the things that made Squeeze so great. Songs about guys trying to get laid and failing miserably at it. We can all relate can’t we? Chris Difford’s lyrics once again score big points (“She sings solo, I see double”) and Glenn Tilbrook’s melody here is among his best. The entire song has the immaculate pace and feeling of a pop standard.

“Stranger Than The Stranger On The Shore” can be viewed as the first misstep on the record. It’s actually not a bad song, but it’s ultimately a poor choice to record it like a dance track with movie mystery sound effects.

“Onto The Dance Floor”- It’s funny, because all of the failed experiments that I talked about on some of the earlier tracks actually work pretty well here. This thing plods along in gloriously comical fashion with lead bass that is reminiscent of Spinal Tap’s “Big Bottom”.

“When The Hangover Strikes” falls in line with my previous comments about “Points Of View”. Written and recorded as if it could be sung by Sinatra or Fitzgerald with a full orchestra in tow. It succeeds on all accounts from inception to execution.

“Black Coffee In Bed” , the albums initial single only charted as high as #51 in the US, and it’s puzzling as to why. It may be because at just over six minutes, it was too long for a 45, and as far as I can tell, there was no shorter single version. The video got heavy rotation on MTV, but that had the last two minutes or so of the song chopped off at the end.

“I’ve Returned” also harkens back to the classic Squeeze sound , but is a much better song than “I Can’t Hold On”. Chris Difford continues to write lyrics from a place that depicts him as a cantankerous lout, hell bent on destroying every relationship he finds himself in. Hard to tell how much of that is actually derived from fact, but enough has come out about his own personal trials for us to believe it’s at least partly autobiographical.

“Tongue Like A Knife” is also a standout track, but would have been fine without the ending tacked on that too closely resembles “My Favorite Things” from “The Sound Of Music”.

“His House, Her Home” has a curiously pleasant vocal by Chris Difford, casting aside his gravelly baritone to deliver this bittersweet memoir of a man who’s moved in with a divorcee and her kids.

“The Very First Dance” simply does not measure up to some of the album’s better tracks and it’s appearance here just makes you think that they didn’t have anything better in the can to offer. Unfortunately, it’s another clumsily assembled fake drum-laden dance track that never takes off.

The album’s final track, “The Elephant Ride” stands head and shoulders above everything else on the record. I would go as far as to say that it ranks very closely among the greatest songs they ever wrote. It has glorious harmonies, a killer bass line, and melodies to spare, tossed at the listener in rapid succession, each one more beautiful than the previous.

Although the overall verdict on “Sweets From A Stranger” will probably always be that of a band that had lost their way, it’s important to note that there are several other records by other bands that were much worse and sold millions more copies. Some of the blame ultimately has to go towards the poor promotion and grueling tour schedule that the band were obliged to adhere to. The sales figures on their posthumous compilation proves that there was indeed, a massive audience out there if only the record company could have mustered the vision and belief in the product they had and connected the dots properly.

Why You Should Care About Gentle Giant

Sometimes I wonder what will be in the music history books say, 100 years from now after we’re all gone. What will they think about us and the music we listened to? Will the popular stuff continue to endure? Or will the unknown and the under appreciated actually have their day in the sun? After all, Mozart died with zero fan base and practically destitute, right? Yet today, he’s world renowned. Now, I’m not insinuating that anything released during the pop era will ever have the staying power of say, “The Magic Flute” but I sometimes wonder if the overlooked and the underrated of the here and now will ever get their due.

Bands being formed during the late sixties and early seventies were attempting to stay true to their muse, with the emphasis on experimentation, individualism and the belief that musically, anything was possible. More diverse types of instrumentation, played within more adventurous time signatures with less emphasis on the finished piece being under three minutes long was becoming more and more the norm.

Many of these acts were wildly popular. King Crimson, Genesis, Yes, Emerson, Lake and Palmer and many others were some of the marquee names of the day. Others would toil in relative obscurity, ignored despite being incredibly prolific and in some cases, more experimental than their peers. Gentle Giant were one of those bands.

Ray, Phil and Derek Shulman were siblings , raised in Portsmouth , England. Their father, a jazz trumpet player encouraged his sons growing up to learn to play as many different types of instruments as possible. Youngest brother Ray Shulman recalls "a house full of musicians and instruments.. I started learning trumpet when I was five just because it was there and then took up violin when I was seven. We were made to practice for an hour a day at least, when we really wanted to go out and play. I suppose it was a good thing we were really, and eventually I wanted to do it anyway... I wasn't formally taught at all." By the time they were teenagers, all three brothers were proficient players of all types of diverse instruments from trumpet to flute to violin.

Their initial foray into the music business was a late sixties soul/pop outfit called Simon Dupree and the Big Sound. After producing several underwhelming singles their management and record company pushed them to record something psychedelic. This nudge yielded a top ten hit for the band but the Shulman brothers were less than satisfied. They felt that this change of style was disingenuous. Successive failures of many follow up singles would follow and by 1969, The Shulman brothers scrapped the band in order to start over from scratch, with an aim towards a more complex direction.

Ray Shulman, looking back on that time stated "We knew we couldn't continue with the musicians we'd had before. We weren't interested in the other musicians in the band — they couldn't contribute anything. We had to teach them what to do. It got rather heavy when we could play drums better than the drummer, and even on record we were doing more and more of it with overdubs. It got stupid having a band like (that). The first thing was to get some musicians of a higher standard."

In 1970 , two other musicians were added in Gary Green and Kerry Minnear. Both were also able to play multiple instruments. They along with drummer Martin Smith comprised the first line up of the band now known as Gentle Giant. Green could play guitar,mandolin and recorder and Minnear, a classicaly trained pianist could also play vibrophone and cello. All of them except for the drummer could also sing. This allowed the band to write and perform extremely complicated vocal parts.

The band released three records between 1970 and 1972. The second LP, “Acquiring The Taste” included within the liner notes this declaration of principles.

"Acquiring the taste is the second phase of sensory pleasure. If you've gorged yourself on our first album, then relish the finer flavours (we hope) of this, our second offering. It is our goal to expand the frontiers of contemporary music at the risk of being very unpopular. We have recorded each composition with the one thought - that it should be unique, adventurous and fascinating. It has taken every shred of our combined musical and technical knowledge to achieve this. From the outset we have abandoned all preconceived thoughts on blatant commercialism. Instead we hope to give you something far more substantial and fulfilling. All you need to do is sit back, and acquire the taste."

After their third LP “Three Friends”, John Weathers became the bands third drummer, culminating in what would be their classic line up. The first record released by this version of the band was “Octopus”, released in the UK on 12/1/72, and in the US the following February. The title was an oblique pun referring to the album having eight tracks (octo-opus). Arguably the bands high watermark, it features one of the widest pallate of soundscapes ever attempted in the pop vein. These guys had the 64 pack of Crayolas with free sharpener on the back, and they were hell bent on using each and every crayon in the set.

The LP’s opener, “The Advent Of Panurge” goes from quiet to loud and back to quiet again all the while swirling with complex two part vocal harmonies that interweave throughout the piece. Brass and piano punctuate the bridge section before lurching back into the songs main structure. It is as musically sophisticated and original an album opener as any ever attempted.

“Raconteur, Troubadour”, the second track starts off as a type of Middle Ages madrigal , almost reminiscent of the type of approach Ian Anderson would employ a few years later with Jethro Tull during his “Minstrel In The Gallery” period. That comparison ends however, after the initial theme gives way to a second section that resembles a type of church procession. This eventually gives way to a trumpet solo, followed by a fiddle solo, finally swirling into a purposely dissonant piano riff that comes crashing back to the verse. At 3:59 in length, it is another mind blowing journey of sound.

“A Cry For Everyone” may be the closest thing to a straight out rocker here, but by employing multiple time signatures, some of which actually overlap each other, the tune goes off in many complex directions. The tune climaxes with a baffling increase in speed before settling down to a close.

“Knots” is the piece de’ resistence on “Octopus”. The last track on side 1, it is at first an acapella piece with no less than three distinct vocal parts sung into , around and through each other, and that’s just the first verse. The second verse brings in even more vocal parts, followed by the main chorus that lurches into a xylophone solo that comes across like a drunken soundtrack to a nursery rhyme. This is then obliterated by the “heavy” section, which goes into yet ANOTHER set of vocal harmonies commencing in an orgasm of sound. It simply has to be heard to be believed.

Side Two begins with the sound of a coin spinning on a tabletop, then immediately into the record’s lone instrumental, “The Boys In The Band”. “A Dog’s Life” starts off as a string ensemble piece, then goes off into another direction with voices chanting in some kind of choral structure before coming back to the beginning for another verse with strings and a singular vocal track.

“Think Of Me With Kindness” is a lovely sentimental ballad built around a piano figure that may be the prettiest thing the band ever did. Even this track however, has multiple musical themes and sections that on the surface don’t seem like they belong, but are so skillfully joined together you can’t imagine them not being there.

I almost feel like the album’s closer “River” is a little out of place when compared to the rest of the LP. It’s a bit more jarring rhythmically, and the sections don’t fit together as seamlessly as some of the experiments that take place elsewhere on the record. In the end though, it does belong specifically because it IS so challenging and on some days when I listen to it it’s the record’s best track.

To those who have heard the record, the above description is hopefully a spot on reminder of it's greatness. The fact remains though, that the vast majority of folks have never heard “Octopus” so to them the above is nothing more than a jumbled mess of fan boy ramblings creaming over some obscure LP by an even more obscure group.

In the spring of 1980, I was fortunate enough to see Gentle Giant at a club in New Haven, CT. Phil, the eldest of the Shulman brothers had left the group by this time and the group had abandoned their earlier statement of principles, with their last few albums attempting to garner some type of commercial response. By this time though, the band had run it’s course and the 1980 “Civilian” tour would be their last ever.

About midway through the set they would play what everybody came to see, the infamous “Octopus Medley”. Comprised of the various themes and songs off the “Octopus” album, this is where we got to see the multiple virtuosities of these gifted musicians on display. It was nothing less than a veritable fire drill of musicianship, with different band members switching off between assorted brass, woodwind, percussion and string instruments. To this day I have still yet to witness anything else that even musically comes close to this moment.

Throughout the seventies, they would release a dozen or so records that would garner various degrees of ambivelance. Some were good, a few were great, and others not as good. Nothing however, would match the greatness of “Octopus”. In fairness though, “Octopus” is the type of record that comes along once in a lifetime and is nearly impossible to match, both in inventiveness and sheer aural brilliance.

The Al Capone of Pop.

Don Arden is a name that keeps coming up every now and then in the history of Rock And Roll. The father of Sharon Osbourne, he gave her Ozzy’s management contract on her wedding day as a gift. Photos taken at the time show a young Sharon looking just like her daughter Kelly with the same amount of attitude towards the camera lens if not more.

Arden started off in showbiz singing Al Jolson songs and doing impersonations of Hollywood actors like Edward G. Robinson and Jimmy Cagney. It was these gangster characterizations that would end up being eerily similar to Arden’s M.O. as a business manager in the music industry.

Stories of Arden’s ruthlessness are legendary. Upon hearing of Robert Stigwood’s intentions to take over one of his acts, he along with some muscle heads went up to Stigwood’s office and threatened to throw him out the fourth floor balcony window. Some accounts even state that he went so far as to blindfold him and actually dangle him out the window, then dropping him onto his own office patio. They simulated the act to scare Stigwood even more.

British pop group Small Faces were on the cusp of worldwide success prior to a scheduled US tour. Arden found out that because of legal issues he could not represent the group in the US. So rather than send the band off with his blessings he told keyboardist Ian Mc Lagan’s parents that he, along with the rest of the band were addicted to heroin, and therefore shouldn’t be allowed to go. The US tour was abruptly cancelled. This episode , in the opinion of this writer at least partially prevented Small Faces from becoming one of the biggest bands on the planet.

Arden struck gold shortly thereafter upon signing another UK band called The Move. This band would evolve into two separate ones, Electric Light Orchestra and Wizzard.
Although not known in the US, Wizzard were very popular in the UK and ELO’s chart dominance in the US during the early seventies were enough for Arden to take up residence in California, buying a mansion once owned by Howard Hughes.

His relationship with his daughter Sharon went sour when she attempted to void Ozzy’s recording contract with Jet records, a label owned by Arden. These professional clashes were compounded by Arden cheating on his wife, which infuriated Sharon. They were estranged for the better part of 20 years before reconciling a few years before his death.


Arden enjoyed playing up to his image as a ruthless operator. He wore broad-lapelled gangster suits, and hung a picture of himself impersonating Edward G Robinson on his office wall. "A lot of what he did had its beginnings in humour," one associate remembered. "And socially he could be very, very funny. A great deal of what he said was bluff. But later on the role took over the man."

Another infamous encounter took place in the late ‘60’s between him and Clifford Davis, then the manager of Fleetwood Mac.
Davis, according to Don, had the misfortune to challenge him for management of the band The Move."He had a big cigar in his mouth and he said,'I know where you live, Don.' I said, 'Take that fucking cigar out of your mouth, I can't hear what you're saying.'At which point, Don held the unfortunate Davis in a headlock, then ground the lit end of the cigar into his face: "Right between the eyes. He struggled at first, then his body went all limp. I felt so good afterwards I dismissed my driver and walked home."

Alzheimers disease would eventually take Arden’s life in 2004, and although the legendary stories are plentiful, it appears that Arden’s bravado during his heyday was more of a factor in him getting his way in the business world than any actual acts of violence. He was once quoted as saying, . "All that stuff about 'sticks and stones' and 'words may never hurt me', it's all bullshit," he once said. The thought of violence is much more of a deterrent than the actual deed. By the time you come to actually hurt someone, it's too late for them, it's over. But the thought of what you might do to them keeps them right where you want them. Always let your reputation precede you."

He strikes me as a man who if he was on your side, he would go to the mat for you. If you were against him though, it would be a bumpy ride. He kept his own daughter in litigation over the Ozzy Osbourne contract dispute for nearly a decade. As Don himself would say: "It ain't about who's right or who's wrong, kid. It's about who wins. And I was always a winner, whatever anyone says about me."