Before his appointment in 2004 as Panama’s Minister of Tourism, singer/songwriter/actor/lawyer/politician Rubén Blades reigned as the heir apparent to salsa king Willie Colón, producing a thoroughly modern melange of salsa, Central American nueva canción and Cuban nueva trova infused with politically charged lyrics inspired in part by the magical realism of Gabriel Garcia Marquez. “Decisiones” opens Blades’ stunningly polyrhythmic magnum opus Buscando América (Searching For America). Each of the song’s three stanzas meticulously details the kind of impossibly heartbreaking, horrifying and tragic moral choices that everyday people face with heroic regularity. “Decisions, every day,” Blades cries for the unwed mother, the cuckolded husband, the unrepentant drunk, “Decisions, everything costs.” Backed by the precise, supple musicianship of the seven-member Seis del Solar, Blades’ gorgeous clarion vocals soar and rise above it all like a prophet’s in the wilderness.
Today’s selection comes from Dramarama, best known for their all-time most requested KROQ radio hit “Anything, Anything.”The band’s fifth release(and first major label debut), Vinyl, spawned some choice cuts including “Haven’t Got a Clue.”Singer John Easdale and Bassist Chris Carter once had an infamous record store in Wayne, NJ called Looney Tunez where they hada Mick Ronson and Ian Hunter signing. Tom Petty’s keyboardist Benmont Tench is a guest artist on thisrecord and Blondie drummer Clem Burke joined the band shortly after this recording.
Write what you know. It’s advice that every writer gets. Rah Digga takes it to heart on the heart-felt “Lessons of Today,” a candid life story realer than any Lifetime Channel movie.The First Lady of Busta Rhyme’s Flipmode Squad showcases her skills nicely (naturally husky voice and all) as she reveals the drama and (sometimes tragic) pitfalls faced by her three older brothers. Along for the ride is the prestigious DJ Premier of Gang Starr, who chops up some mighty-good, good ol’ fashioned boom bap, punctuated most notably by a sped-up Queen Latifah sample and what sounds like a futuristic bass line teleported from a lost Star Trek episode. For those in the mood for some pure hip-hop served fresh from the oven (cooked up by an MC who once rocked stages with a bun in the oven), look no further than the self-proclaimed Dirty Harriet.
Looking back, it’s a lot easier to see that Leaders of the New School were a bunch of weirdos. Billed more-or-less as class clowns at the start, this Long Island crew harbored internal strife, which ultimately lead to the group breaking up, the ever-talented Busta Rhymes being the lone Leader to graduate magna cum laude. The tension amongst members must have affected the ill-fated sophomore (and final) LONS record, T.I.M.E. - The Inner Mind’s Eye, which failed to impress critics and most fans and was quickly dismissed. Unorthodox, conceptual and crazy, the uneven LP is definitely “out there,” but scores some extra credit points with dreamy, disjointed joints like “The End Is Near,” a free-association clash of styles. Whether the song is actually about the apocalypse is up for debate, but it’s highly likely it’s the only song ever that references Randy “Macho Man” Savage, dancehall, Sasquatch and the theme from Rocky.
You probably heard today’s pick in the early ’80s and never really knew who it was by. “The Beat Goes On/Switchin’ To Glide” is a true one hit wonder in the U.S. taken from The Kings’ debut album The Kings Are Here. These wild and wacky Canadians had a party attitude (also check out “Partyitis” from the same debut) and were perfect for the ’80s. Unfortunately, with no other exposure or hit singles, The Kings faded quickly from the music scene but reformed again in the mid-’90s to release one more studio album. Here’s to starting the week off with a bang.
While most of the Cars’ hits were bouncy and bubbly (save for “Drive”), Ric Ocasek demonstrated a virtual Roxy Music fixation when he sang the ballads like “I’m Not the One” from Shake It Up.Not that it’s a bad thing, and the Boston boys certainly had way more penetration than Ferry’s London art gang. With more hooks than a deep sea fishing line, this catchy little number has the near baroque keyboards and extended outro chorus that inform lots of Roxy, right down to the “going round and round” lyrics.All that’s missing is the audio gleam.
It’s no secret that hip-hop don’t make ‘em like Grand Puba Maxwell no more. With a voice oozing charisma and words bolstered by a genuine gift for gab, Puba is not only a real character (a rap version of WC Fields, if you will), but the difference between an MC and a plain-wrapped rapper. Well respected for his stints with Masters of Ceremony and Brand Nubian, Pu’s solo work is likewise acclaimed, although he’s never achieved full-blown mainstream success. That should have happened with the irresistible, feel-good “I Like It,” a modest hit from 1995’s 2000 long-player. Whether he’s effortlessly putting gold diggers in their place or simply biggin’ himself up for the heck of it (in sing-songy fashion, no less), Puba flows perfectly over this “butter track” so smooth it’s like the lyrics are skinny-dipping in the Land O’ Lakes. The El DeBarge cue in the hook is icing on the cake.
New England had 3 albums of ’80s AOR rock.They had catchy rockin’ songs with great harmony vocals as heard on today’s pick, “Get It Up.”I’m not sure if lead singer John Fannon was a true air balloon aficionado or if it’s a metaphor for something else, but it’s fun to listen to this unique arrangement and Todd Rundgren’s excellent production.So crank it up and enjoy the ride with New England!
Securing his place in stardom with hits like “Mack the Knife” and “Beyond the Sea,” Bobby Darin was able to infuse practically any song with a dazzling style that kept his audience swaying and snapping to his infectious sound. Today’s track “Black Coffee,” is a 1948 classic that has been covered by a number of musicians, but Bobby’s signature swank separates this rendition from the rest of the pack. Even though he is crooning about coffee, you’d think he’s singing this one with a martini in hand.
One of the leading lights of the British reggae scene that blossomed in the wake of Bob Marley’s international success, Steel Pulse hailed from the hardscrabble streets of Handsworth, in Birmingham. The band’s defiant Rastafarian outlook meshed well with England’s growing punk movement, and Steel Pulse’s reputation climbed on the strength of a strong live show and their first albums for Island Records. They switched labels to Elektra for 1982’s True Democracy, which became their first release to chart in America. Tracks such as “A Who Responsible?” showed that Steel Pulse could embrace accessible production (by reggae vet Karl Pitterson) without conceding any lyrical ground. With its Santana-esque guitar opening, lilting rhythm and catchy “They don’t give a damn, no” chorus, the litany of social ills rattled off by singer David Hinds could easily fly under a listener’s radar.
I can’t say enough good things about Love. They became a fixture on the LA music scene and influenced a young Jim Morrison to become a musician. Fronted by Arthur Lee , the original line-up briefly consisted of seven members for this second effort Da Capo. The stand-out track for me has always been “She Comes In Colors”. A psychedelic, yet moving serenade featuring a slithering flute that follows Arthur Lee’s vocals perfectly.
With the help of Teddy Riley, Keith Sweat laid a foundation for the New Jack Swing movement with 1987’s “I Want Her.” Spacious, reverb-laden kick drums provide ‘street’ bounce and digitally synthesized snares lend a hip-hop edge to mellifluous R&B vocals on the first New Jack Swing song to hit the Billboard charts. Topping at #1 on the R&B chart and #5 on the Hot 100 chart, this song spawned an era. From Bobby Brown’s “Don’t Be Cruel” to Paula Abdul’s “The Way That You Love Me,” with many songs in between, including most of Michael Jackson’s Dangerous album, many artists would further embrace and build upon the New Jack Swing sound.
Istanbul (Not Constantinople) They Might Be Giants
Label: Elektra
Released: 1990
Today’s improbable history lesson comes courtesy of Johns Flansburgh and Linnell, a.k.a. They Might Be Giants, those lovable lyrical über-dweebs who make Bill Nye the Science Guy look like Bill Blass. You marveled as they solved the burning musical mystery, “Why Does the Sun Shine? (The Sun Is a Mass of Incandescent Gas).” You huzzahed when they chronicled the forgotton history of President “James K. Polk,” the “Napoleon of the stump.” Now, hold onto your fez as our heroes tackle the hottest etymological question of the 10th Century: why “Istanbul (Not Constantinople)”? Answer: “Every gal in Constantinople lives in Istanbul, not Constantinople, so if you’ve a date in Constantinople, she’ll be waiting in Istanbul.” Got that? If not, don’t sweat it. Just lean back and dig the hyper-speed nuevo-klezmer rhythms, snake-charmer violin and the Two Johns’ eloquently educational elocution. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.
“Elevation” is the prototype for every U2, Police and R.E.M. song from 1980-1986, and then later, every alternative/post rock song from 2000 onwards. The brittleness of this song is like a cold, dark night on Ave A with someone following you in the shadows.
This graceful & meditative track from Morrison Hotel conjures up memories of balmy New England afternoons in late October. One can feel the crunch of leaves underfoot and know that summer has lingered just long enough to make you miss her all the more, as the impending frost approaches. Sorry to get all Walt Whitman on this bitch, but goddamn it, I love this song! Jim’s gentle singing and Robby’s glistening arpeggios are truly sublime. Fun Fact: Even though “Indian Summer” appears on Morrison Hotel, the backing track harkens from the self-titled first album sessions. Jim went on to re-record his vocal and the rest is history. Oh, and happy birthday to you, Mr. Mojo Risin’!
Many hip-hop songs have one or two lines that give thanks to MC’s and performers but there are not many songs that really give you a history of hip-hop at the same time. “Dedication” not only gives props to the best of hip-hop, it is a trip down memory lane celebrating its foundation and growth.
Little Trip To Heaven (On The Wings of Your Love) Tom Waits
Label: Elektra
Released: 1973
Before Tom Waits sounded like the crazy neighbor screaming and banging on his trash cans to keep you from grilling on Thursday, he had a different delivery. His debut – Closing Time – is a flawless album that was made for CD, simply because you shouldn’t be able to get up and flip it over. You should be a wreck halfway through Side One if the bartender and your heart are taking care of you. There’s a different emotion at work here, and you’ll never have enough cash to stuff in the tip jar on his piano. “Little Trip…” is an exquisite love song that comes near the end of the night, and to prove how beautiful it is – it was the first dance at my wedding. Thank you, Tom Waits – you magnificent bastard.
Today’s track is a world premiere on Damn Fine Day!
With the release of the seminal Morrison Hotel album just a few weeks away, The Doors played four packed-to-the-rafters gigs at New York City’s Felt Forum in early 1970. There, they debuted many of their new songs, including “Roadhouse Blues,” perhaps the most straightforward, hard-driving rock song in their considerable canon. This version, taken from the first January 18 show, explores the darker undercurrents in an otherwise celebratory paean to the good life. On fire this night, Jim Morrison sings it like a true blues. His performance is imbued with sinister passion and punctuated by demonic wails and a chorus of deeply masculine, nonverbal wordplay, as Robby Krieger’s guitar positively snarls, and Ray Manzarek’s keyboards provide an unrelenting, almost sinister counterpoint to John Densmore’s deceptively simple drumming. Moving, mad, and dripping with late-night roadhouse sweat, it’s blistering rock ’n’ roll as no other band would have the balls to attempt onstage. Long live The Doors.
One of the best and most durable bluegrass outfits, The Dillards first tasted national fame in the early 1960s as guest stars on The Andy Griffith Show. And while their roles as Mayberry’s local yokels may have been played for laughs, The Dillards’ singing and picking were no joke. “Hey Boys” shows both sides of this band to fine effect: a down-home, folksy persona paired with instrumental work and multipart harmonizing that would’ve done The Louvin Brothers proud (or perhaps The Beach Boys circa Smile). This track hails from 1968’s Wheatstraw Suite, a record whose place in the pantheon of country rock ought to be as exalted as that of Sweetheart Of The Rodeo.
It’s doubtful that the Bay Area’s best-selling post-grunge quartet will get the reappraisal it deserves any time soon. Suffering an unsympathetic press, the nu-metaling of modern rock radio, and a record biz swept up in other tides, 3EB became, over the course of three albums, a band epitomizing the notion of “guilty pleasure” (which is to say, there was plenty of pleasure to be found). Six years after “Semi-Charmed Life” put them on the charts and revealed a highly refined songwriting style marked by arena-size hooks, rap-ish vocal passages, and refreshingly complex song structures, 3EB released 2003’s Out Of The Vein, containing this signature deep cut. One of at least four shoulda-been hits, “Crystal Baller” realizes every ounce of the band’s knack for monster melodies, fist-pumping choruses, and inventive rhythmic shifts. They say there are times when it’s best not to talk politics; this is one of them.
One of three new songs The Stooges cranked out in a single night when Elektra refused to release their now-classic debut on the grounds that there weren’t enough songs, “Not Right” is quintessential Iggy Pop. Dig the pause he sticks between a sneering “She . . .” and “uh, not right” and the attitude with which he shrugs his way through every subsequent complaint. Like nearly every second of The Stooges’ finest hour, “Not Right” is a fuzz-driven proto-punk classic, blurring the lines between garage and psychedelic rock. It sounds like Ron Asheton is playing on strings made of rubber while chain-chugging bottles of maximum-strength Robitussin. The Stooges didn’t sell well or get many good reviews, but like the Velvet Underground’s debut, there’d be no punk and very little alternative music worth a damn without it.
Fred Neil only cut three proper albums in his career, but he had an immense influence on the folk scene of the early ’60s, inspiring Tim Hardin, Hoyt Axton, Bob Gibson, and Bob Dylan, to name just a few. He teamed up briefly with Vince Martin in 1964 to cut Tear Down The Walls, and both the album and the title track became early folk hits. “Tear Down The Walls” has all the earmarks of a classic Neil track: chiming 12-string guitar, passionate but low-key vocals, and a melody that instantly embeds itself in your mind. Neil’s combination of folk and gospel imagery, and his belief in the power of song to change the world, makes this almost forgotten tune a soaring anthem to peace, love, and universal brotherhood. Martin and Neil put the icing on the cake with their powerful harmonies.
