LP of the Week - "Wild Planet," The B-52s (1980)

"The world's greatest new-wave kiddie-novelty disco-punk band," Robert Christgau called them in 1980.  And while the novelty piece of that equation is fair, it's also fair to note that they're still around today, some 38 years after they first came together in Athens, Georgia during the year of our nation's bicentennial.  And that they've had precious few lineup changes over those years - the only permanent one being when guitarist Ricky Wilson died of an AIDs-related illness in 1985.  Keith Strickland, the original drummer who then assumed guitar man duties, no longer tours with the band, but still considers himself a full-fledged member.

"Wild Planet" was their second album, released just two weeks before I would leave home for college in September, 1980.  To be fair, it's not as good as their debut, but that's not much of a criticism, because the debut was an enduring masterpiece that remains one of the greatest New Wave albums ever released.  If the self-titled debut was an A+, the follow-up is no worse than an A-, and a lot of bands have done a lot worse than that.

The only thing that really distinguishes "Wild Planet" from the album that preceded it is the lack of a single track as strong as "Dance This Mess Around" and "Rock Lobster."  It's remarkably consistent, and yes, they were sticking to a formula, but you could sure do a lot worse than record and release an album that features 9 eminently danceable, fun tracks without ever missing a beat.  "Private Idaho" is probably the best song, but "Devil in My Car," "Quiche Lorraine" and "Strobe Light" come close.  There's a reason that the album was one of the staples of my Berkeley experience, and the band's near-universal appeal is the reason why so many people in our dorm were enthusiastic about attending the band's two Bay Area concerts during that time.

Rock on, dance on...it still sounds great today.

X-Men hit the mark again

The title may be a little clumsy, the plot may be a little complicated, and the whole enterprise may require more knowledge of the canon than most people could be reasonably assumed to have, but at the end of the day "X-Men: Days of Future Past" is an entirely satisfying comic book movie, one that builds on the promise of the "First Class" prequel while completely wiping the bad taste of "The Last Stand" from the memories of fans and movie-goers.

* Spoilers Be Ahead, Consider Yourself Warned! *

Similar to J.J. Abrams' first "Star Trek" movie, "Days of Future Past" uses time travel as a device, not just to bring the two X-Men casts together, but more importantly to reboot the series in such a way that anything that now follows can make sense (and be defensible to those who do have intimate knowledge of the canon).  Done poorly, that could have been a cheat, but like "Star Trek" it's done very well, and unlike the "Spider Man" franchise, which just seems to be telling the same story all over again (in fairness, I haven't seen the second one yet), it moves the story forward in a way that doesn't sacrifice continuity but also opens up entirely new avenues of story-telling.

As much as I love Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellen, in this film I have to give the Professor X/Magneto crown to James McAvoy and Michael Fassbender, which really isn't surprising given that the story gives them much more to do.  The old guys are definitely there for a reason; don't get me wrong, but aside from one wonderful moment near the end when the old friends/foes clasp hands while Magneto wistfully wonders why they've been fighting each other for the last 50 years, the best moments are given to McAvoy and Fassbender.  Professor X and Magneto are flip sides of the same coin, almost as if Two-Face was split into two people, and both actors do a fine job taking that dichotomy to a new level.

If you've been even remotely paying attention, you've heard about the story - mutants and humans are under siege in the future from the Sentinels, which are like mutant terminators, able to instantly modify their structure in such a way that makes them invulnerable to whatever mutant power they are facing.  The only hope is to send Wolverine (Hugh Jackman, great as always in the role but so jacked up that he looks to be auditioning for a new mutant, Veinburst) into the past to bring the good Professor and Magneto back together, to stop Raven/Mystique from killing Dr. Bolivar Trask, the inventor of the Sentinels (because killing him will ensure that his Sentinel project moves forward).  So back we go to 1973, and needless to say things don't go entirely as planned, and all the while the few mutants left in the future...well, let's just say that things are looking increasingly bleak for them.

Kudos to everyone involved, although as the villain, Peter Dinklage is given nowhere near enough to do.  If you've watched any "Game of Thrones" at all, you know what Dinklage is capable of, and unfortunately the Trask role comes nowhere near to Tyrion Lannister in terms of interest or charisma.  Evan Peters is great as Quicksilver, in an extended sequence that might be the best thing in the movie.  And the ending, which gives us a glimpse at several characters we thought we might never see again, carries a powerful emotional punch.

All in all, a job nicely done.  Very much so.

Indy 500

Ryan Hunter-Reay with the victory milk.

It clearly lacks the cultural significance it once held, but the Indianapolis 500 remains one of my favorite sporting events of the year.  I don't mind admitting that part of it is nostalgia; to this day I can clearly remember the day that Mario Andretti one his (and his family's) sole 500, I can remember listening to the great Johnny Rutherford-A.J. Foyt duel on the radio in 1974 (back in those days, the race was only shown on tape delay, in the evening), and I can remember most of the multiple wins from great drivers like Foyt and the Unser brothers.  And even though I've continued to watch every year, the drivers aren't the stars they once were - that role has (for the most part) been taken over by the superstars from NASCAR.

But I've always preferred Indy-car racing to NASCAR, and while I'm far from an expert on either, I don't know that I've ever seen a NASCAR race with the drama and excitement that we were treated to yesterday.  Multiple leaders, strategy in and out of the pits, very few mishaps...and then the spectacle (after one of those mishaps) of a 6-lap sprint to the finish, with three (or was it four?) lead changes taking place in those six laps.  Amazing, thrilling stuff, and while I was rooting for Marco Andretti to end the curse, I would have been happy with either Ryan Hunter-Reay or Helio Castroneves taking the milk.  Congratulations to Hunter-Reay, who is well spoken enough that he might just be the guy to steal some of those NASCAR fans back.

Springflix

This was supposed to be a monthly deal, but you know how it goes.  Quick, sometimes random thoughts on movies recently seen via Netflix or Netflix Streaming.

Sense and Sensibility.  Along with Joe Wright's "Pride and Prejudice," clearly the best Austen film adaptation.  Just about every note is perfect, from the interplay between Elinor Dashwood (Emma Thompson) and her sister Marianne (Kate Winslet), to the boisterous good humor of Sir John (the great, and still ticking, Robert Hardy), the graciousness and innocence of Edward (Hugh Grant), the honor of Col. Brandon (Alan Rickman) and even the droll impatience of Mr. Palmer (Hugh Laurie).  The scene where Elinor finally breaks down and confesses her broken heart to Marianne is nothing less than a classic.  Screenplay by Thompson and directed by Ang Lee, one of the best.

Much Ado About Nothing.  Because I slept through most of it the first time around, I was really happy to see this pop up on streaming.  It's great, and just might be the most important movie Joss Whedon (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Firefly, Dollhouse, The Avengers) has ever made.  I say that because I think it's great that Whedon is smashing barriers with this movie - showing the world at large that it is possible to make a high quality Shakespearean production for film, even if your background is in what a lot of people (not me) would consider "lesser" genres.  Anyone who's ever watched a Whedon show will recognize most of the actors, and it's clear that they are having the time of their lives.  They're all great, but for me the standouts were Alexis Denisof as Benedick, Amy Acker as Beatice, and Nathan Fillion as Dogberry.  And I want Joss Whedon's house.

Short Term 12.  Also a re-watch, but since I never got around to writing about it the first time around.   This is one of my favorite kinds of movie - a director and actors you've never heard of before, just knocking the ball right out of the park.  The movie is set in a temporary home for troubled youth, mostly foster youth, focusing not just on the kids who live there but also the young adults - some with their own troubles and problems - with the responsibility for managing their lives.  This one was brought to our attention by son #2, because the director (Destin Cretton) is a graduate of San Diego State (where son #2 is in the performing arts program) and brought a rough cut of the film for the students to view and critique.  Based on this, he has a long and successful career ahead of him.  Brie Larson is great as Grace, in a performance that in its impact reminded me of Jennifer Lawrence in Winter's Bone.

Nebraska.  I loved everything about this movie - the story, acting, soundtrack, glorious black and white cinematography...everything.  Alexander Payne's work clearly resonates with me, because I also thought his "The Descendants" was one of the best movies of recent years.  Bruce Dern deserved all the accolades, but Will Forte is also great as his suffering son, and yes, just like everyone said, June Squibb steals every scene that she is in.  Stacy Keach is suitably creepy as an old friend of Woody (Dern's character) who still is looking to be repaid for money lent decades ago, and the extended family is a hoot.

Thor: The Dark World.  Not the best comic book movie ever made, but it had its moments, mostly courtesy of Tom Hiddleston as Loki.  The plot really defies description, but the final battle scenes with Thor and the bad guy popping in and out of different dimensions/universes was really cool.

Saving Mr. Banks.  I'm told that I slept through a good portion of this one, but what I did see was pleasant enough.  I'm not really sure this story was demanding to be told, but the scenes with B.J. Novak and Jason Schwartzman as the Sherman brothers (with an assist from Bradley Whitford) were worth the price of admission.  You know, if we had actually paid for it.  Which I suppose we did, since we got it from Netflix.

Inside Llewyn Davis.  Seen it twice now, still not quite sure what the Coen brothers were trying to say, but enjoyed it both times.  Oscar Isaac really deserved an Oscar nomination (there's a joke in there, but I'll leave it alone) for his portrayal of Llewyn, and the Coens did a great job of recreating the feel of early sixties New York City.  And the music is good.

Dallas Buyers Club.  Don't get me wrong, McConaughey was great and deserved his Oscar, but I actually think he was better in "True Detective."  But this is a really good movie, and Jared Leto also deserved all the accolades and awards.  But once again, Jennifer Garner pops up in a supporting role, and just does wonders with it.  Maybe someday she'll get her due as well.

God Grew Tired of Us.  A well-made, heart-rending documentary about the lost boys of the Sudan, focusing on a handful of them who are able to immigrate to the United States and try to build lives of their own.  A good reminder of how much we take for granted in our day-to-day, "first world problem" lives.

Panic Room.  When this started I thought we were going to see Fincher's take on "The Shining," where the building was the most important character in the movie.  And that's sort of what happens, but once the plot kicks in it becomes more standard fare, with some pretty cliched bad guys.  But still, not a bad thriller - and the interplay between Jodie Foster and Kristen Stewart is very well done.

Rush.  I'd definitely put this in the top tier of Ron Howard movies, but unless you know something about Formula 1 racing and the history of James Hunt & Niki Lauda, it might be lost on you.  Nice job with the racing scenes, but also the characterization of the two drivers.

Captain Phillips.   Expertly crafted adventure/thriller, with a great performance from Tom Hanks.  His acting in the final post-rescue scene is probably the best acting I've seen all year. 

Sapphire.  A 1959 film set in London, focusing on the murder of a pregnant woman originally assumed to be white but later found to be of mixed racial origins.  According to Wikipedia it was considered very progressive for its time, and it is fascinating to watch it today - although I'm not sure it comes close to greatness.

About Time.  You either like Richard Curtis movies, or you don't.  But you pretty much know what you're going to get when you see one.  There's a formula, but "About Time" stretches it, and even though the time-travel premise is not one that you want to think about too much, it does provide for a few surprising developments.  Bill Nighy is great as always, and Domhnall Gleeson and Rachel McAdams do just fine in the Hugh Grant/pick your American female star roles.

To Rome With Love.  It would appear that I no longer know the difference between a good Woody Allen movie and a bad Woody Allen movie.  "Midnight in Paris" was supposed to be great, this one was supposed to suck, and "Blue Jasmine" was supposed to be great again.  But I liked 'em all about the same.  And nothing I just wrote is intended as commentary on the ongoing Allen/Farrow family saga.

Half Nelson.  Early, strong Ryan Gosling vehicle with him portraying a pretty screwed up junior high school teacher.  Good enough to take the taste of "Only God Forgives" out of my mouth.

The Fifth Estate.  Excellent performance by Benedict Cumberbatch (is there any other kind?) as Julian Assange, but a less than memorable movie.

I should also note that in between all of this, we watched the entirety of "Firefly," and its unlikely movie sequel, "Serenity."  They hold up well, and make one wonder what might have been...

The Durant Speech

In a week when Donald and Shelly Sterling were seemingly engaged in a contest to determine which of them was a greater embarrassment to the NBA community (or the human race, for that matter), we thankfully had one of the most remarkable speeches ever delivered by an athlete to take back the headlines.

It's long, but Kevin Durant's speech is worth watching in its entirety.  Worth it for the raw emotion, worth it for the graciousness he shows to every single one of his teammates, worth it for the love and respect shown to Russell Westbrook, his most important collaborator, and of course worth it for heartfelt and moving comments about his mother.

We'll never know for certain the role that the speech played in the Thunder's hard fought triumph over the L.A. Clippers, but it couldn't have hurt.  And while I still doubt their ability to win a seven game series over the remarkable San Antonio Spurs, I wouldn't count them out either.

In more ways than one, Kevin Durant has cemented his reputation this year as one of the all-time greats.  Well done.

LP of the Week - "Spectres," Blue Oyster Cult (1977)

You don't hear much about Blue Oyster Cult anymore, but they were a pretty big deal in the 70s.  I'm probably the type of fan that hard-core devotees would scoff at, because (along with a couple of million people) I jumped on the bandwagon when "Don't Fear the Reaper" hit the airwaves, and the album from which that song came, "Agents of Fortune," hit the top of the charts.  Christgau referred to that album as "the Fleetwood Mac of hard rock," and that's a fair description.

I'm confident that this puts me in the minority, but my favorite album of theirs was "Spectres," the follow up to "Agents" released in the fall of 1977.  The album may lack a single song with the power of "Reaper" (although "I Love the Night," a vampire tale that could be viewed as a sequel to the earlier song, comes close), but it's remarkably consistent, with all of the band's songwriters - Eric Bloom, Joe Bouchard, Albert Bouchard, Donald (Buck Dharma) Roeser, and Allen Lanier - contributing at least one strong tune.

The album's best known song, "Godzilla," opens the album and sets the tone of a band that isn't taking itself too seriously, despite their reputation.  "Golden Age of Leather" follows that, and is another example of the band, essentially, making fun of itself.  Other strong tracks include "Searchin' For Celine," "Fireworks," and "Goin' Through the Motions."  There really isn't a bad track on the album.

I saw them perform once, in the summer of 1979 on a double bill with the red-hot (at the time) Cheap Trick.  It was a good show, and I'm pretty sure some version of the group is still out there playing somewhere.  At the end of the day, Blue Oyster Cult may not have quite been Hall of Fame material, but they were pretty darn good.

The greatest week in NBA history?

Wow.  Just wow.

You could make the claim just for the games alone, which for the most part have been spectacular.  We're definitely at a point now where we can say that this is the greatest first round of the playoffs in NBA history - Five of eight series going to seven games, and one going to six that was just as dramatic as those five.  Close games, overtime games, games with controversial calls, games with amazing performances and games with head-scratching performances - this round has had it all, and now the only worry is whether the rest of the playoffs can possibly match it.

Oh, and then there was that little thing that Adam Silver did the other day - banning Donald Sterling for life.  He may, as Jimmy Fallon pointed out last night, look like the guy from "American Gothic" come to life, but with his decision this week, Adam Silver has cemented his position in sports history, after just a few weeks on the job.  If he isn't Sports Illustrated's Sportsman of the Year, then the magazine needs to really take a long and hard look at what that award is all about.

And yes, the afterglow of Silver's decision (and the decisive nature by which it was delivered) will dim with time, as people recognize that no, this in and of itself will not end racism in the NBA, and in fact could lead to a lengthy legal battle that lasts until well after Sterling has died.  Let's face it - we don't really know yet that Silver had any legal basis for what he did, although one can assume that the NBA legal staff spent a few hundred hours combing every nook and cranny of the NBA constitution and bylaws to ensure at the very least that they weren't standing on legal quicksand.  And yes, appearing in today's Sacramento Bee was an op-ed claiming that the "thought police" have won again, that Sterling had every right to hold whatever abhorrent beliefs he saw fit and still own (and make billions from) an NBA team.  And there is the very real issue of privacy, and whether we are all at risk of having our private comments thrown into the public domain because of the ability of today's technology to do just that.

But let's set those things aside for the moment.  What Adam Silver did this week was take a moral stand - he did what had to be done; he did what was right.  25 years ago, Greil Marcus wrote that a riot in San Francisco, lawless and dangerous as it was, was the only proper response on the night after Dan White was excused of his crimes.  This week, Adam Silver may not have had the legal basis to make the decision that he did.  But it was the only proper response, and for that he should be lauded.  He should be thanked.

LP of the Week - "Brotherhood," New Order (1986)

Back in 1980, when New Order rose from the ashes of Joy Division following the suicide of lead singer Ian Curtis, you could have gotten really good odds on whether there would still being a working band called "New Order" more than 30 years later.  But even though they've broken up a couple of times and made a couple of personnel changes, they're still out there, even releasing an album every few years.

What the band proved in the 1980s was that Joy Division was not a one-man show.  Rightfully so, that band has come to be associated with Curtis' dark, brooding and frankly scary vocals, but even then, the music was just as important to the sound of the band as the vocals and the words.  Wikipedia refers to New Order's sound as a synthesis of post-punk and electronic dance music, and while that is perhaps oversimplifying things a bit, it's essentially correct.

"Brotherhood" was their best album, the album where they sounded most human.  There isn't a bad track on the LP, but there are three standouts.  On the first side, "Broken Promise" builds to a climax of guitar feedback and pulsing bass and drums that still makes my heart race almost 30 years later, and on the album's closer "Every Little Counts," the band proves that yes, it does have a sense of humor  But the highlight of "Brotherhood" is the song that I'd argue is the best they ever did, and one of the greatest singles of any era you might be tempted to choose - "Bizarre Love Triangle."  Again, Peter Hook's pulsating bass drives the music, until the end when Gillian Gilbert lays down one of the most beautiful synthesizer lines in rock history.  It's one of those songs that, were it released today, would sound innovative, new and fresh.  Just like it did back then.

The band has released a number of compilations over the years, many featuring various remixes of their most popular songs.  But if you want to dive into New Order, "Brotherhood" is as good a place as any to start.

What Happens to the Clippers Now?

Right about now, Adam Silver has got to be wondering what he did to deserve this.  The NBA is in the midst of the greatest 1st round of playoff games in its history, and what could possibly turn out to be the single greatest round of playoffs of all time.  And then Donald Sterling has to go and drop a stink bomb on the whole thing.

One can make a strong argument that the NBA deserves it, for allowing Sterling to stink up the joint for upwards of three decades now.  I don't need to repeat what has been written in numerous other places, but you've got to wonder what was going through David Stern's head when he nixed the Chris Paul trade to the Lakers a couple of years back, which paved the road for Paul's trade to the Clippers.  Which turned the Clippers around, which paved the road for Doc Rivers to join the Clippers, which turned the Clippers into, for the first time in their history, a legitimate title contender.  And it's not as if Sterling was turning over a new leaf while all this was going on.

And if this first round has proven anything, it's that everyone (well, not Charlotte, and probably not Chicago) has at least a dreamer's chance to grab the trophy this year.

So what happens now?  Obviously, Sterling has to go.  But does the NBA have the ability to force him out?  That seems like a debatable and open question.  But for all intents and purposes, the Clippers ceased to be a viable entity the moment that the Sterling tape hit the airwaves.  The sponsors are bailing, the players are protesting (in their own way; I thought what they did yesterday with the inside-out warmup jerseys was simple and effective), the legends (both current and former) are calling for immediate action, and the President of the United States has weighed in.  One way or another, the Donald Sterling era is about to come to an end.

It'll be interesting to see what the NBA lawyers can come up with (and just why is the NBA constitution confidential, anyway?) in the way of leverage, but whatever it is it's not likely, in and of itself, to force Sterling out.  But come on - who is going to want to ever play for that team again under the current circumstances?  It'll be a minor miracle if this current Clippers team - the same Clippers team that blew out the Warriors by FORTY points the night before the tape hit the media, if you were paying attention - can suck it up and stay competitive in this round.  I know they want a title and that's the whole point of playing the game and what they've dedicated their lives to, but come on - this is a distraction unlike any other they've ever faced, or will ever face again.  It's not every day that your employer says something that makes it very clear that he views you as an inferior part of the human race.  I'd find that a little hard to overcome.

So will Magic prevail?  The Lakers legend owning the Clippers?  That would be entertaining, but I guess I have to ask out loud whether L.A. really needs two NBA teams.  I bet right now there are a lot of folks who would be very interested in seeing the Seattle Clippers set up shop.

What a disaster.  Here's hoping that Sterling just goes away.  Soon.

LP of the Week - "Red Headed Stranger," Willie Nelson (1975)

Listening to this record feels like falling into a time warp.  To call it spare in its sound hardly does it justice; it's practically primitive.  On some songs all you hear is Willie singing, accompanied by his guitar.  On others, there is Bobbie Nelson's piano, and every now and then you get a snippet of bass and drums.  For all intents and purposes, it's an old field recording.  It's the kind of record that sounds good with a few snaps and pops every now and then.

It's hard to imagine today, but there was a time when Willie Nelson was one of the great unsung musical heroes of our time.  He'd penned some famous songs ("Crazy" by Patsy Cline, for example), but for the most part, no one had ever heard of the guy.  That was certainly true when this record came out in 1975, and it's probably no coincidence that within three years, Nelson was a bonafide superstar.

It's a short album, and the bulk of the songs are covers - "I Couldn't Believe It Was True" by Eddy Arnold, "Blue Eyes Cryin' in the Rain" by Fred Rose, "Can I Sleep In Your Arms" by Hank Cochran among them - but the concept is all Nelson's.  The late, great critic Paul Nelson called it "a phonographic western" evoking the works of John Ford and "Shane," and described the narrative as follows:

The album traces the life of a Montana cowboy who finds his true love with another man, kills both of them and later another woman, then drifts through Denver dance halls into old age, forever unable to cut his early loss but managing in the final years of his life a moving, believable synthesis of all he has missed.

Not exactly cheerful stuff, and even in its music, the album is mournful for most of its running length.  But it's brilliant throughout - quite likely the greatest work that Nelson has produced.

Drive-By Truckers visit Sacramento

I think I've finally figured out where to place Drive-By Truckers in my personal music pantheon.  DBT is a band that in this century, has put together a catalogue that can really stand with any other artist over that period - "Southern Rock Opera," "The Dirty South," "Decoration Day," "Brighter Than Creation's Dark," "The Big To-Do," "Go Go Boots," and now "English Oceans" - there isn't a bad album in that bunch, and I'd argue that at least two are pretty damn close to being masterpieces.

But it's also pretty evident that DBT are never going to become huge stars; their albums are not likely to threaten multi-platinum status.  They're pigeon-holed as a "southern rock band," although if one takes the time to listen to the music and read the lyrics a little more carefully, it seems pretty clear (at least to this listener) that they transcend that label.  Their sound is rooted in the south, and you can't argue with the fact that so many of their songs address the south, but to call them just another southern band doesn't really do them justice.

For me, they've filled the spot in my pantheon that Warren Zevon held for so long.  An artist that you listen to and think "how can it be that everyone doesn't love this guy/band/artist?"  "Why aren't they superstars?"  "What's wrong with you people?"  But that's OK - they've carved out a spot for themselves, and anyone who's ever been to one of their shows knows how fiercely loyal their fans are.  So if they go down in history as one of those semi-popular, great bands that never quite hit the mainstream, that's OK with me.

So I got the chance to see them Friday night, for the second time, in a small venue (Ace of Spades) that really isn't much more than a glorified bar.  Which, come to think of it, is the perfect place to see a band like DBT.  As evidenced by the picture above, I was able to work my way right up to the front of the stage, within about 8 feet by the end.  Standing for close to four hours (Shovels and Rope, the opening act, started right at 8 and DBT didn't close out until almost midnight) didn't do much for my 54-year old bones, but I wouldn't have traded the experience for anything.

Of course, it was a great show, with both Patterson Hood and Mike Cooley in top form.  Cooley is the real star of the new album, and he shone on Friday night with his new songs from "English Oceans," including "Shit Shots Count," "Primer Coat," "Made Up English Oceans," and "Hearing Jimmy Loud, as well as some of his golden oldies like "Pulaski," "Zip City" and "Women Without Whiskey."  Hood was awesome as well, and even though the band has gotten smaller with the departures of bassist Shonna Tucker (replaced by Matt Patton) and guitarist John Neff, they still pack a sizable punch.  It's more of a rock guitar oriented sound now, without Neff there to pitch in on steel every now and then.  And that's OK because keyboardist Jay Gonzalez, as it turns out, plays a pretty mean guitar himself, and on several songs managed to play both.

Another great show, and hopefully there were at least a couple of folks there who'd never heard them before and are now converts.  Because once you get there, trust me - you're never not going to be a DBT fan.

Boz Scaggs' "Memphis" - Score one for the old white guys

Once upon a time, Boz Scaggs recorded a song called "Loan Me a Dime" that featured a young, mostly unknown guitar player named Duane Allman.  The song is almost 13 minutes long, the epitome of a "slow burn" blues song.  It takes its time - the vocal doesn't even begin until after the two-minute mark - and lets the tension and intensity rise naturally until Allman cuts through it like a knife with an extended guitar solo that would have afforded him a spot in the annals of rock history, even if he'd never recorded another song.

A little less than a decade later, Scaggs hit on the formula that would land him on the cover of Rolling Stone, complete with an Annie Leibovitz photo shoot.  Silk Degrees wasn't really disco, but it was definitely "blue eyed soul," and a far cry from "Loan Me a Dime."  Which isn't to say it wasn't good; in fact, it was very good, and pushed Scaggs up the charts right around the time that Fleetwood Mac and the Eagles were taking turns at #1.



I saw Scaggs live in 1980, when he was touring with the band that in a couple of years would become Toto.  It was a great show, and while focused mostly on the latter-day hits, it demonstrated that Scaggs was an artist who, if not quite in the top tier of American artists, was certainly within shouting range of the top.

And that was pretty much it.  Yes, I know he continued to record and tour over the years, but as a presence, he more or less disappeared.  Which is why I was surprised, a year or so ago, how tempted I was to buy his newest album, Memphis.  At least half a dozen times, I picked it up and thought about it, only to put it back in its slot before heading to the register. 

Well, today I finally took the plunge, and I'm glad I did.  The album hasn't returned him to multi-platinum territory, but I was glad to see (thanks to Wikipedia) that it was his highest charting record in more than 30 years.  It's a very solid set, 10 covers and 2 originals, a set of songs designed to pay homage to the site (and sound) where many of those songs were recorded.  You've got some very familiar tunes, Brook Benton's "Rainy Night in Georgia," the Moments' "Love On a Two Way Street," along with others by notable artists like Al Green ("So Good to Be Here"), Mink DeVille ("Mixed Up, Shook Up Girl"), Steely Dan (the sublime "Pearl of the Quarter") and Jimmy Reed ("You Got Me Cryin'").  And there's even a lovely version of the traditional, "Corrina Corrina."  And you've got a pretty distinguished band, featuring Steve Jordan on drums, Willie Weeks on bass and even Ray Parker Jr. (!) on second guitar, plus guest spots from folks like Keb' Mo and Spooner Oldham.

And especially for a guy who's almost 70, Scaggs' voice still sounds great - he can't reach the high notes like he did back in the day, but at least on this record, he's not singing those types of songs.  That an artist like Boz Scaggs is still producing solid work at this late date is reason to never give up hope.  You just never know when someone might surprise you.

LP of the Week - "Boston" (1976)

There are memories associated with "Boston" that are so engrained in my mind that when I hear the songs in question, a sense of nostalgia overwhelms me to the point where I feel that I've been transported back to those very moments.

Memory #1:

In August 1976 (August 12, to be exact) I was hired to my first job - at McDonald's.  I would work there for four years (right up to when I left for Cal in September 1980) and eventually become the "grillman" training coordinator for two different stores, but for the first few months of that job I hated it unlike any other I've ever had.  Back in those days, the workforce at McDonald's was comprised almost entirely of high school and college students.  The managers weren't much older than the regular crew, and were usually promoted because they were good at their jobs, not because they had any particular talent at managing 16-18 year olds.  The expectations were high, the rules were strict, and even though I would come to appreciate everything that I learned there, for a while it was so bad that I'd have fantasies about the place burning down in the middle of the night (that actually happened in the mid nineties, but by then I was long gone - I swear!).

There are three songs that cause all of those emotions to rise up in me as if I had jumped in the wayback machine - Heart's "Magic Man," Wild Cherry's "Play That Funky Music," and "More than a Feeling" by Boston.  But for some reason, it's the latter song that does it the strongest.  The memory has never released itself from the song.

Memory #2:

From the time I was 7 years old until the year that I graduated from high school, I was in a bowling league.  For the last two years, the league bowled on Friday afternoons, and during that time I religiously stuck to a ritual.  When we were finished (my younger brothers were also in a league, but they usually took a little longer than the "older kids" did), we'd adjourn to the game room, I'd go to the jukebox, and play "Smokin'" by Boston.  After a while, it almost got to be a joke - but there was no way I was leaving that alley until I'd heard "Smokin'."

Memory #3:
 
We're now in the winter of 1977 - around the time of the beginning of the second semester of my junior year of high school.  By far, that was my roughest year in high school, mostly because of my distaste for two classes that plagued me at the time and which I wonder why I ever took in the first place (probably because they were required for an eventual college-bound student such as myself).

Every Friday night, I'd go to a basketball game with one or two of my friends - and seemingly every time, "Foreplay/Long Time" would come on the radio.

Memory #4:

Flash forward to the summer of 1977 - the summer of "Star Wars," and the summer of my first "serious" girlfriend (well, I was serious, but I'm not really sure she gave a sh*t).  By this time, I had figured the job out, and was actually beginning to enjoy it a bit.  We had a good crew at the time, and I was still one of the youngest ones.  When I think back on those times, it amazes me the amount of responsibility that this mostly crazy group of young kids was afforded - I mean, it was only a McDonald's, but holy cow, we were running the damn place, and there's no doubt in my mind that the lessons I learned there were just as (if not more) important to the person and worker I am today than anything I learned in school.

That summer, "Peace of Mind" was the song on the radio (usually, right after Steve Miller's "Jet Airliner").  The vision that comes to mind when I hear that song today is driving home from work in the gigantic Kingswood Estate, all the windows down, and the radio turned up (AM radio, of course) as LOUD as it would go.

Memory # 5:

Holiday season 1977, our crew holiday party.  By this time I'd come to my senses and split with the girlfriend (in all honesty she dumped me, but whatever), and decided to actually ask someone from the crew to be my date at the party.  I go pick her up, we go to the party, and since I'd been asked to provide the music (even back then, I was the master of music) I throw in a unlabeled mix-tape (I've always liked to be surprised at what might be coming next) and the first song on it is "Something About You," one of the few cuts from the album that was never released as a single.

So think about it for a moment - for almost 18 solid months, "Boston" pretty much dominated the airwaves.  If memory serves, it sold more than 10 million units, which isn't bad for a band that no one had ever heard of, pretty much right up to the moment when "More Than A Feeling" hit the airwaves in the late summer of 1976.

To these ears today, it still sounds like a great album - one of the greatest debut albums in the history of rock.  It's a throwback, no doubt - not just in the type of music that was being embraced by the critics of the day, but also for me personally in the development of my musical tastes.  Within two years of buying "Boston," I would also buy my first albums by the Sex Pistols, The Clash, Elvis Costello, Blondie, Ramones, Talking Heads, Pretenders, Gang of Four, English Beat, The Specials, Nick Lowe, and I'm sure a few others that I've forgotten.  Certainly in attitude but also in sound, this was a very different kind of music than what one heard on "Boston."

But after all these years, there's still a place for all of those bands in one record collection.  And I'll defend "Boston" just as much as I've had to defend Gang of Four's "Entertainment" over the years.

Take Me Out to the Ball Game...but please bring me back...

This will come as no surprise to even the most casual baseball fan - when the Yankees play the Red Sox, prepare yourself for a long evening (I say evening because it seems that at least one game from every series those two teams play is required to be shown on ESPN).

From Carl Bialik's "I Don't Care If I Ever Get Back - And I Might Not," from Nate Silver's (fairly) new site, fivethirtyeight.com.

Sunday at the Masters

Even though I always enjoy rooting for Bubba Watson, there's no arguing the fact that the final round of The Masters was about as much fun as watching paint dry.

Now, that's a bit of an exaggeration, because it's nearly always fun to watch just to see the glorious holes that make up Augusta National.  Now that the green-jacketed members have relaxed a bit and let us see action on the front nine, we're becoming more familiar with those holes as well - but there's little doubt that if you call yourself a serious golf fan, then you really need to know the back nine as if it were the back of your hand.

Over the years I've had different favorites - 15 and 11, in particular - but now, I'm just about convinced that the 13th hole is the greatest golf hole in the world.  Or at least, the greatest parkland golf hole in the world.  It is the perfect combination of risk and reward for the great player - a hole where the difference between eagle and double bogey is inches.

So watching The Masters is always fun, I admit to that.  But Sunday afternoon held so much promise, when it appeared that we were in for one of those "duels for the ages" that people remember for decades.  But no, it was not to be.  In fact, no single player particularly distinguished themselves on the back nine on Sunday, and the back nine is what distinguishes a run-of-the-mill Masters from a great Masters.

So congratulations, Bubba Watson - perhaps the most unlikely winner of multiple majors since John Daly? (Discuss).  But it wasn't quite the show I was hoping for.

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road at 40

Over the years I've come close to buying Elton John's Goodbye Yellow Brick Road on CD, but never pulled the trigger until now, with the release of a special 40th anniversary addition.  The new double-CD extravaganza features a remastered version of the original album, a set of songs from the album covered by other artists (produced by Peter Asher), and part of a concert recording from 1973, when Elton was playing a lot of these songs for the first time.

We'll get to the packaging in a moment, but let's start with considering where the album falls in Elton's pantheon.  It came smack dab in the middle of his mid-seventies hot streak, when just about everything Elton touched turned to gold (or platinum).  It was a huge hit.  It featured three hit singles, including the one ("Bennie and the Jets") that got him invited to Soul Train.  It includes what is probably his best known (but certainly not best) song, "Candle in the Wind," in its original incarnation.  But even with all that, what really gives the album its identity are the lesser known, "album" cuts, several of which sound as good (if not better) today than they did back then.  I'm not prepared to say that it's his best album, but along with Honky Chateau (which came before) and Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy (which came after), it's certainly a contender for that title.

Back in the day, double albums were treated as an event, even if most of them were made "double" through the addition of material that probably should have stayed in the studio archives (in the CD era, nearly every release is the equivalent of a seventies era double album, which may explain why so many modern releases are candidates for track skipping).  But the material on Yellow Brick Road is consistently strong, and remarkably diverse.  The album begins on an odd note with an 11 minute twofer that begins with "Funeral for a Friend," a five minute dirge that seemed really cool in 1974 but really just obscures the strength of "Love Lies Bleeding," which certainly belongs on the list of least known great Elton John songs.  Also on that list would be "I've Seen That Movie Too" and "The Ballad of Danny Bailey," both of which showcase Elton's piano playing, but in different settings - the former a ballad that Frank Sinatra himself could have covered, and the latter being a melodramatic but effective tale of a Dillinger-era gangster.

In an album full of highlights, the high point just might be the 1-2-3 punch that begins with "All the Girls Love Alice," continues with the raucous rocker "Your Sister Can't Twist (But She Can Rock and Roll)" and concludes with "Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting," which is probably the best flat out "classic rock" song that Elton has ever recorded.  But you get the point - this is a really strong album, and while it might not be the best double album ever recorded (Exile on Main Street, London Calling and The River are all stronger, and that's just off the top of my head), but it deserves to be included in any conversation about the great double albums.

My only complaint?  In the packaging, they've deleted the lyrics and accompanying artwork (see picture above) that helped make the original release so compelling.