The Box of Vinyl Project: #5 The Doors-Waiting For The Sun (Elektra 1968)
About a year ago, I acquired a little more than two crates worth of old vinyl LPs (about 200, give or take, records). I've listened to some of them, the ones I already knew and liked, but the majority of the records have stayed put in the box they came in. I figured I'd start making my way through the collection of vinyl. I don't intend to research any records that I'm not familiar with, so hopefully I'll arrive at as objective a review/summary of each records as possible. In the interest of full disclosure, I've never tried my hand at music criticism/record reviews.
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everyone knows lizards are capable of infinite things
I, like many people, went through a phase in which I was interested in rock music from my parents' younger days. I listened to eight track tapes of the Beatles, the Stones, and Fleetwood Mac, but I also got some of these kinds of records on CD. I don't know whether my parents were big fans of the Doors, but they didn't have any of their records. I had to get the two-disc Best of record when I was about 13. So, to me, junior high will always seem like an appropriate age to become a fan of the Doors, and sometime in early high school seems like an appropriate age to realize that they aren't exactly as cool as you used to think. You realize that Jim Morrison was not, in fact, a poet. At best, he was a good rock singer and rock star, with all the cliches and connotations that title brings, and at worst, he was a pretentious over-indulger.
Even though I claim that I won't research any of the records I review for this series, I admit that I looked up this record to see when it was released (interestingly, there is no date of release on the sleeve or record itself) and learned that this was the Doors' third record. Not that that's at all important or has anything to do with what I think of the record--I'm not really familiar with any of the group's proper records. But this record does contain some of the more famous songs, such as "Hello, I Love You," "Five To One," and "The Unknown Soldier." You know these songs--you've seen Forrest Gump, right?
Waiting For The Sun is a pretty good document what I think of when I think of the Doors. There's the good keyboard driven pop songs ("Hello, I Love You" and "We Could Be So Good Together"), the dark brooders carried by Morrison's "poetic" lyrics ("Not To Touch The Earth" (cause he's a deep poet/Lizard King and shit)), and the weird Native American chanting stuff ("My Wild Love") that Morrison seems to have been so fascinated with. To be honest, I'm not much of a Doors fan anymore, never listen to the Best of CDs on purpose, but this record is actually pretty damn good.
The obvious stand-outs are the hits we all remember. We'll knock them off in a quick run down. "Five To One" is a slow, chugging-along rock song with a cool guitar solo and some of Morrison's more understated lyrics. "Hello, I Love You" is catchy, quick, and simple--not much room for foolishness. "The Unknown Soldier" covers pretty dark subject material with relatively upbeat music. It also has the centerpiece firing squad section. We know these songs because they're solid, concise, catchy rock songs. And we saw Forrest Gump.
The song "Love Street" is another catchy pop song that sounds familiar even if you haven't heard it. It's one of my favorites on the record. "My Wild Love" wanders into vaguely Native American musical territory with its chants and handclaps (I'm sure that's a gross simplification Native American musical traits), and the song still feels pretty appropriate on the record. It somehow makes sense and fits.
Morrison does get his chance to dive off the deep end in "Not To Touch The Earth," which contains lyrics from "The Celebration of the Lizard" a "theatre composition by the Doors" as indicated in the gatefold. The music is little more than vaguely structured banging set as a backdrop to Morrison's singing. Maybe it's a little more than that, but not much. To be fair, this song is really the only time Morrison is unreined on the record. And it's a pretty short clusterfuck at 3:54, so it could have been worse. The song ends with the famous Morrison quote: "I am the lizard king. I can do anything." Which maybe he can--he managed to finagle the song on the record.
One thing I noticed about the record is that it doesn't actually contain the song "Waiting for the Sun." But there is a Doors song titled such. Weird.
Like I said earlier, this record is pretty good. If I had to guess why the record is good, I'd go with it's length--it runs just a little over half an hour. Keeping a pretentious rock star on a time limit seems to do wonders for the band's ability to make memorable rock songs. Who fuckin knew?
Will I listen to it again? I imagine so, sometime. Although the record's not in the best of shape--it's pretty scratchy--so we'll see.
Next up: The Who-The Kids Are Alright (OST)
Then: John Coltrane-Interstellar Space
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The Box of Vinyl Project: #4 The Autumn Defense-Circles (Broadmoor 2003)
About a year ago, I acquired a little more than two crates worth of old vinyl LPs (about 200, give or take, records). I've listened to some of them, the ones I already knew and liked, but the majority of the records have stayed put in the box they came in. I figured I'd start making my way through the collection of vinyl. I don't intend to research any records that I'm not familiar with, so hopefully I'll arrive at as objective a review/summary of each records as possible. In the interest of full disclosure, I've never tried my hand at music criticism/record reviews.
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believe it or not, this record is less than 10 years old
This record, I admit, is not part of the collection of records that I've set out to listen to. However, it was recently given to me, so I thought I'd do an entry on it since it's relatively new to me. That said, I'm pretty familiar with The Autumn Defense, or at least the two principal members', Pat Sansone and John Stirratt, other projects--notably Wilco, but also The Gimmecaps (Stirratt) and Birdy (Sansone). That said, Circles doesn't really sound much like any of those bands. To me, it sounds closest to Birdy's On The Moon, but probably just because of the atmospheric and/or baroque arrangements I think both records have in common. In any case, The Autumn Defense is clearly a side project for a reason. With good reason.
Circles, at times, sounds like Sansone and Stirratt have set out to record their own version of a 70's soft rock album. While these aren't the types of records I immediately reach for, I definitely find myself sitting down with them often enough to say I'm a fan of the good ones. So a 70's soft record released in 2003 by two guys I already like--sign me up.
The songs are mellow and sound carefully crafted, maybe I should say arranged, in a way that makes you want to hear them on your back porch while the sun's going down behind some leafless trees. (End poetics.) The songs are accessible, without always being catchy, with the kinds of melodies that you'll remember the second time you hear the song--or possibly even halfway through the first listen. (The vocals, both Sitrratt's and Sansone's, are often the shoulders that the songs are carried on. And the lyrics. Neither Sansone nor Stirratt are known for their vocal stylings, but here they make sense in that both their voices are subtle and reinforce the hushed tone of the record.)
Back to the songs. The standouts are "Written In The Snow," "Some Kind Of Fool," and "Silence." Sansone's "Silence" opens the record with a swirly, reverby sound that sets up the entire record pretty well. It reminds me, more than anything, of On The Moon (which if you can get ahold of, you should). It's melodic in a way that some of the previous Box of Vinyl entries try to be, but it's still interesting enough that it doesn't sound like it follows the basic pop standard song structure. Stirratt's "Written In The Snow" seems like a clear descendant of something from the Gimmecaps' record but without electric guitars. And with more reverb-ed piano. It's got the type of catchy chorus that would have made this a potential radio hit in the 70's, I think. The lines "I would die, if I thought anyone would hurt you/Yes and I would cry, if I thought anyone could do something like that" might read a little cliche or purple, but Stirratt delivers them in an understated way that's lost on so many singers that it makes you wonder why everyone's on about the vocal acrobatics (masturbatory showings off) that seem to be a pre-req for radio hits.
So even though I feel a little like I cheated by including this record in the project, I'm glad I did. If nothing else, it'll be an enjoyable record to put back on between the other 3 Emerson, Lake, and Palmer records I'll have to review sometime soon. I should be objective, but, fuck it, I'm not looking forward to those. On a more positive note, Circles is easy listening. Easy listening in a good way. It's a record that can please passive listeners while still rewarding those with a more attentive ear. I recommend it.
Buy it here.
Will I listen to it again? Sure. Especially when the day's going dark and I want to sit outside with a big beer and take it easy.
Next up: The Doors-Waiting For The Sun
Then: The Who-The Kids Are Alright (OST)
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The Box of Vinyl Project: #3 Michael McDonald-If That’s What It Takes (1982 Warner Bros.)
About a year ago, I acquired a little more than two crates worth of old vinyl LPs (about 200, give or take, records). I've listened to some of them, the ones I already knew and liked, but the majority of the records have stayed put in the box they came in. I figured I'd start making my way through the collection of vinyl. I don't intend to research any records that I'm not familiar with, so hopefully I'll arrive at as objective a review/summary of each records as possible. In the interest of full disclosure, I've never tried my hand at music criticism/record reviews.
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the record your parents wanted you to want
I am not a fan of the Doobie Brothers, so big surprise that I'm also not much of a Michael McDonald fan. I'm basically indifferent when it comes to these two pop music staples. I guess they're staples. That said, If That's What It Takes is a damn near perfect document of what I think of when I think of 80's pop music. You've got the optimistic up-beat love songs and the less optimistic, sometimes still up-beat, love songs.
You know one song, at least, off of this record. "I Keep Forgettin'" is the song that Warren G's "Regulate" sampled, and the chorus lyric "I keep forgettin'" sounds like "I can't forget," at least to me. So you've probably heard the song like a million times, and not without reason. It's a solid pessimistic pop love song. And it's one of many on the record, albeit the most memorable one.
The rest of the record, with the exception of side one's closer and the track "Losin' End," is a tug-of-war between the optimistic and pessimistic up-beat pop songs that I already mentioned. It's actually pretty hard to distinguish the songs from each other. Imagine 80's sitcom themes--Perfect Strangers or Family Ties--and you'll have a pretty good idea of the record's feel. It sounds like studio musicians fronted by Michael McDonald's unmistakable voice. Maybe that's exactly what it is, I don't know.
The opening track, "Playin' By The Rules," is a good way to sum up the record, thematically and musically. It's one of the optimistic songs that gives an unnamed so-and-so romantic advice. Lines such as "Love's not always happiness/ Sad, but it's true, girl" are vague enough to be interpreted in any number of ways but still provide the familiarness that a good pop song generally does. Musically, the song is piano/key driven with a pretty standard drum/bass/guitar backup. The title of the song explains the entire record. Nothing about any of the songs is offensive or extraordinary in any way. It's more whitebread than fucking Leave It To Beaver. It definitely plays by the rules.
I know this review probably seems a little slight and vague. But to be honest, so does this record. The songs mostly bleed together, so it's easy to listen to it without realizing it's even playing, which maybe that's not a bad thing. It sounds like it could be a soundtrack to the movie Mannequin--harmless and familiar (the music, not the movie (because, holy shit, you remember that movie? Wow, right?)). McDonald made a solid pop record that sounds exactly like it was made in 1982, which it was, and it just doesn't interest me. Unless I want to pretend I've just turned on the local easy listening radio station in 1982.
Will I listen to it again? Only when I'm sad and lonely and making a name for myself as the next successful department store window dresser.
Next up: The Autumn Defense-Circles (wasn't part of the collection, but was a gift I got recently, so I thought I'd throw it in)
Then: The Doors-Waiting for the Sun
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The Box of Vinyl Project: #2 Emerson, Lake, and Palmer (1971 Cotillion)
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Is that an airbrushed dove growing out the back of a bald head (notice the ear in bottom left corner)? Of course it is.
Before listening to this record, I knew nothing about Emerson, Lake, and Palmer other than vaguely recognizing the name. After listening to the record, I realized why.
It's hard for me to figure out where to start with this record, so I'll start with what seems like the thematic thread that holds the six songs (six songs and it still clocks in at around 40 minutes) together: pretentiousness and an implied fondness of wizards, fairies, eagles, and fire. And solos played on anything with keys. The record sounds like it'd double pretty well as the soundtrack to old fantasy/sci-fi movies with wizards, fortresses, and weird synthesized soundtracks (e.g., Krull and The Dark Crystal) even though these fantasy elements aren't ever actually mentioned in the lyrics, which said lyrics are few and far between on this record.
So, the majority of the record is instrumental with an emphasis on key instruments (piano, organ, synths, others that I don't know the names of--we'll just call them KI collectively for brevity) and occasionally drums. The solos on the KIs are pretty obviously meant to be the main attraction as every single track has one. In fact, the entire seven-minute track entitled "The 3 Fates: Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos" (Seriously) is one long extended organ and piano solo. Jesus-God is it boring. Did I mention the record is pretentious as well? The second track on side two, "Tank," is probably the most egregiously mistitled song I can bring to memory. It comprises rinky-dink KI solos and an unnecessary (because they are all unnecessary) extended drum solo. A goddamned drum solo.
The second track on side one, "Take A Pebble," can be considered an embodiement of the record. First of all, it's long. Twelve and half minutes long. Also, it's carried along by some pretty sparse (in this case a good thing) lyrics that could have been borrowed from a philosophical 14 year-old's journal. Take for example: "Sadness on your shoulders/Like a worn-out overcoat [...] Disturbing the waters/Of our lives" sung in utter earnestness. With feeling. Maybe most important is that it jumps from a section of what sounds like an autoharp to acoustic guitar to hand-clapping countryesque sing-along to bad freejazz/fusion KI wankery. Wankery is a good way to sum up the overall feel of the record.
The one oddity on the record is probably the only thing most people would recognize--the closer "Lucky Man." As in "oooooh what a lucky man he was." You've heard it if you've ever listened to classic rock radio. The song's not that bad, but holy shit having to listen to the five songs preceding it is like being weakly punched in the ear repeatedly.
I did not like this record, and unless you like listening to musicians who possess the misunderstanding that musical ability can substitute for interesting or at least listenable songs, I bet you won't like it either.
Will I listen to it again? It's yours if you want it.
Next up: Michael McDonald-If That's What It Takes
Then: The Autumn Defense-Circles
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Missing Tom Waits Live
A little over a year ago, in July '08, Tom Waits played in Birmingham, AL as part of his "Glitter and Doom" tour. I remember finding out about the tour a few months earlier and telling my then-finacee that we would have to go no matter what because I wanted to see a Tom Waits show more than any other show I could think of, and I told her what date he'd be in Birmingham. She had bad news for me and had to spoil a fairly big and cool surprise.
glittery
We were getting married at the end of that May, and she had already put together her wedding present to me. She had planned a trip to Chicago for a few days and got tickets to see a Tom Petty show as well. So we'd be in Chicago on the day of the Tom Waits show. I felt like a sizable ass for messing up the surprise and making a big deal out of the whole thing. Tom Petty and Chicago were both a really good time, and I'm pretty sure I didn't even think about the other show I was missing.
So yesterday I learned that Tom Waits is putting out a double live record from the same tour. And you can download the first 8 songs for free from his website. Awesome. And the second record of the set is one long track of stage banter called "Tom Tales." Kick-ass. And it'll be released on vinyl in addition to CD. Choices. And it's pretty exciting all-around.
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The Box of Vinyl Project: #1 Carly Simon-No Secrets (1972 Elektra)
About a year ago, I acquired a little more than two crates worth of old vinyl LPs (about 200, give or take, records). I've listened to some of them, the ones I already knew and liked, but the majority of the records have stayed put in the box they came in. I figured I'd start making my way through the collection of vinyl. I don't intend to research any records that I'm not familiar with, so hopefully I'll arrive at as objective a review/summary of each records as possible. In the interest of full disclosure, I've never tried my hand at music criticism/record reviews. Off we go.
First up, Carly Simon's 1972 record No Secrets.
this is not Joni Mitchell
Prior to listening to this record, all I knew of Carly Simon was "You're So Vain," which is on this record, and everyone knows it, and "Anticipation," not on this record, which I knew because J Mascis covered it on his rarely cited acoustic record Martin & Me (which is a great record that I let someone borrow and never got back. Shit--different story).
No Secrets is a record that sounds indecisive as to whether it's soft-rockin and a little pissed ("You're So Vain" and "(We Have) No Secrets"), loose with melodies that are winding but not totally inaccessible ("The Carter Family" and "His Friends Are More Than Fond Of Robin"), or country-tinged and subversively feminist ("Waited So Long" and "It Was So Easy"). To me, soft-rockin and pissed works best for the record.
"You're So Vain," "(We Have) No Secrets," and arguably "The Right Thing To Do" are the strong points that show Simon's ability to put together a well-written, catchy, and specific but relatable pop song. Each of these songs has a little bit of earned meaness, mixed with the implication that whatever got fucked up can be worked out, that makes good hit pop songs. Since there's probably little original to say about it, I'll forego the discussion of "You're So Vain," but "(We Have) No Secrets" exemplifies this description just as well except that the relationship in question isn't over, which makes the song that much more realistic and relatable--and isn't that what good pop songs are good at? These three strongest songs are all, it should be noted, credited solely to Simon. Three of the ten songs are co-written by Simon.
So the record has its faults, notably "The Carter Family," "His Friends Are More Than Fond Of Robin," and "Night Owl." "Night Owl" was written by James Taylor, who I'm no fan of at all, and has Simon proclaim to be a night-life person who can't be bothered to wake up during the daytime. Whether she, or Taylor, were big enough night owls intent on raising hell and then singing about it in vague animal metaphors to warrant the song's existence, I don't know. But I do know I don't have to buy it. Neither do you. The song is pretty shitty.
Aside from the other winding, melodically constipated poor man's Joni Mitchell songs, I enjoyed the record. It's harmless, mostly innocent, early 70's easy listening that reminds you of riding in your mom's, or dad's, car on the way to dinner at a shitty family restaurant. There's something to be said for vaguely recognizable nostalgia.
Will I listen to it again? You're So Vain, No Secrets--yes. The rest, only by accident.
Next up: Emerson, Lake, & Palmer-Self-Titled
Then: Michael McDonald-If That's What It Takes
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