Remembering Scott Kempner and the Del-Lords

The news that Scott Kempner - guitarist, songwriter, and co-lead vocalist of the Del-Lords - had died last November, after having been diagnosed with dementia in 2021, had completely escaped me.

The name is probably not one that will be known to a lot of people, and it seems highly unlikely that the band that he led in the 1980s will be enshrined in the Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame. Having said that, both Kempner and the Del-Lords deserve at the very least a footnote in the history of the genre.  

Pictured in the photo at left is Frontier Days, their debut (and best) album.  It's straight-forward rock and roll with plenty of Byrds-like guitars, and a dash of country thrown in for good measure. It more or less stuck out like a sore thumb in 1984. The second British Invasion was in full swing, synth-pop was the order of the day, and I can't think of a single time that I heard one of the album's songs on the radio.  That the band stayed together long enough to record three more good albums by decade's end was a testament to their commitment and the overall quality of their work.

There are two songs on Frontier Days that are right up there in my own "personal pantheon juke box."  One is the album's closer, "Feel Like Going Home," one of the best songs ever written about the vastness of this imperfect country we call home, and the longing for one's loved ones while out on the road.  The second is the song that opens Side Two, "Burning in the Flame of Love."  The song has been a staple of my collections for years, whether they were in the form of a mixtape, a CD, or a playlist.  

But I know what comes next

All the promises that will one day be broken

Hearts will be broken

And, ain't I the perfect fool

Cause I know what love can do but I still need to touch the fire

I still need to stand in the fire

But as time goes by and the seasons turn it's a lesson I'll never learn

Cause in my heart I knew that when I got next to you that 

I'd be burning in the flame of love

Once again I'm burning in the flame of love

R.I.P., Scott Kempner.  You led a really great band.  In my book there are few better epitaphs than that.

Just Another Hall of Fame Band from East L.A.

In 1993, Slash Records released a Los Lobos anthology album with the title, "Just Another Band from East L.A."  While accurate as far as it goes, that's a little like calling The Beatles "just another band from Liverpool."  

Los Lobos have of course never come close to matching the popularity of the Beatles, nor have they had the cultural impact with the general public the way those lads from Liverpool did.  In a perfect world it would be a different story, and Los Lobos would be one of the most popular bands in the world.  

Last week, Governor Gavin Newsom and the first partner Jennifer Siebel announced this year's inductees into the California Hall of Fame, and along with fellow L.A. icons The Go-Go's (whom I'll write about in a separate post), Los Lobos was on the list.

The announcement sent me down a deep Los Lobos rabbit hole.  As it turns out, I own 12 of their albums on physical media - 3 on vinyl, 9 on CD - and I've spent the last week giving them all a listen.  First, it was a very enjoyable experience.  Second, I left the exercise (well, it's probably not quite over yet) with the following observations:

- Los Lobos have never made a bad album.  Sure, some are better than others.  And while that may not sound like such a big deal, there really aren't a lot of artists you can say that about.  For example, Bob Dylan has made a bad album (several, in fact).  Neil Young has made a bad album (Neil has had bad decades, for that matter!).  R.E.M. made a bad album.  Prince made a bad album (although to be fair, the guy was so damn prolific that with him, it's not that bad).  The Rolling Stones?  Historically great.  Numerous bad albums.  Don't despair - these are all members of various Halls of Fame; it just comes with the territory.  

- The band's masterpiece, to these ears, is 1992's Kiko.  But there are others that come close: How Will the Wolf Survive? (1984), The Neighborhood (1990),  and Colossal Head (1996) are all a solid A (on the Christgau scale), and By the Light of the Moon (1987), The Ride (2004), and The Town and the City (2006) are an A-.  The rest?   Somewhere between A- and B+, and every single one features at least one track that's an absolute killer.

- The Lobos have been self-producing their albums for a while now, but it's fascinating to compare their earliest work with T. Bone Burnett at the helm to their middle (and probably best) period, where Mitchell Froom and Tchad Blake really took the bad in directions that few bands are capable of going.  If you look at the band's Wikipedia page, it lists eight genres that the band's work falls under: Chicano rock, Roots rock, Latin rock, Tex-Mex, Country rock, Americana, Heartland rock, and Cowpunk (which I admit is a new one for me).  And it's really not a stretch.

Heartiest of congratulations to Los Lobos - David Hidalgo, Louie Perez, Cesar Rosas, Conrad Lozaano, and Steve Berlin - on their achievement.  And thank you for more than four decades of incredible music.  If you're interested, head on over to my Spotify page (I think you can find your way) for my 60-song tribute to the band.

Resurrection Walk, Michael Connelly

 

The "resurrection walk" referred to in the title of Michael Connelly's 38th (!) novel is a reference to the moment at which someone who has been unjustly imprisoned one again tastes freedom.  The book begins with Mickey Haller, "the Lincoln Lawyer," having successfully achieved such a walk for one of his clients.  Flush with that success and always on the lookout for a potentially lucrative addition to his practice, Haller decides to try and find another "needle in the haystack," as he puts it, among the many letters he's received from prisoners claiming that they've been imprisoned unjustly. 

Though billed as "A Lincoln Lawyer Novel," Harry Bosch makes an appearance in the book's very first chapter, having agreed to assist his half-brother in finding that needle, and then helping Haller thread it through the legal process towards the elusive walk to freedom.  Bosch finds a case that might fill the bill - Lucinda Sanz, in prison for the past five years for killing her ex-husband, a sheriff's deputy.  Something about the case and its investigation doesn't add up for Bosch, and before too long Haller and Bosch are working with Sanz to secure her freedom.

Of course, if proving her innocence were easy there wouldn't be much of a story, and before long numerous roadblocks present themselves. First, the case has to be tried in federal court, where in the words of Haller, "defense cases went to die."  This does provide Connelly with the opportunity to introduce a new character, Judge Ellen Coelho, who brooks no nonsense from any of the attorneys trying the case.  There are mysterious suspected break-ins at the residences of both Haller and Bosch.  And before long, we find out that what happened involved rogue cops, sheriff's gangs, and even the FBI.  The game is on.

Connelly has been on quite a roll lately.  I haven't watched either of the television productions of his two main characters, but I've read every one of his books.  What I've enjoyed in his recent work is that he's allowed his characters to age, and to change over time.  Unlike some other series that I've enjoyed over the years (Crais' Elvis and Joe books, Coben's Win and Myron series) you get the sense that Bosch won't last forever.  He's never been a superman, but his mortality has now become a character of its own.  Where will it all lead?  It will be really sad when he is gone, but it seems inevitable.  

In the meantime, Connelly's work over the past three decades is a landmark in detective fiction.  Enjoy it while you can.