Everybody Goes As Far as They Can, Big Star memories

7/11/14 train to Mineola

I’ve been listening to a lot of Big Star lately.  This was the band that influenced REM, The Replacements and so many others.  They were a mythical band which were unheard while they were together.  My Big Star kick started out with the documentary “Nothing Can Hurt Me” which was released a couple of years back.  If you have not seen the movie and are at least curious what the story is behind this influential band; do yourself a favor and watch it.  The band was compared to The Beatles and heralded in Rolling Stone, Creem and other rock magazines back in the early seventies.  There is awareness on some songs to The Fab Four, but Big Star was original.  They created an Americanized mix, a little country twang, check their version of Velvet Underground Femme Fatale. The sound created a buzz within all corners of rock establishment and made their first album a must have classic.  If you have not heard it, the layers of instruments will grip you and give you a ride through various emotions.  The first song of the album, FEEL had Chris Bell singing the lead.  It starts off very slow, plucking power chords and then Bell screams the lyrics.  The choir, “I feel like I am dying!” with the rest of the band backing him up.  Sure it sounds like Beatles in some harmonious parts, but then we’re rocking with a sax and a true authentic jangly American guitar sound.  This sound made the band different from other established rock bands. It drove Chris Bell to perfect the quality of their recording while engineering at Ardent Studios in Memphis. This is where the band originated - but the story of their demise is layered like their sound.  It was a lack of record sales which is a story within itself.  There was a clash of ego, but from the movie’s perception, I don’t think there was the violent fall out, the big conflict, the fists; the rift was mental.  It was created in Chris’s head being jealous that Alex Chilton received most of the attention.  It was Chris’ early departure which could have devastated the band, but they did not go their separate ways.  The second album was a bold departure from the first.  They were a three piece.  Their musical style had changed to a more jazz/folk even a WHO influence.  Their singles September Gurls and Back of a Car are examples of what I am trying to disseminate.  The third album, Third/Sister Lovers was their final.  For some listeners they will hear the sound track of a band breaking up.  Some will say it was Alex Chilton who was breaking apart at the seams.  It was the first Big Star album I heard and I knew it very well by the time I saw Big Star perform their 2009 show in Brooklyn.  It was the last time Alex Chilton performed before his passing early in 2010.  That night in Brooklyn was memorable, there was the slightly intoxicated blur. There were too many Polish beers and not enough food.  The band was tight although I recall Alex kept going back to check on his heavy winter coat which he stored behind one of the amps.  Just a thought, but there was something in one of the pockets he did not want to lose.  Thank you Friends is the second song on Third.  I attended the Third performance at Baruch in New York back in 2011 which had Mike Mills, Michael Stipe, Matthew Sweet and a heck of a lot of others who sang the album in entirely as well as other Big Star covers…some of these songs as well as clips from that last show in Brooklyn are captured in the documentary. There is a brief second when you see me as I am walking out of the auditorium and about to shake Jody Stephen’s hand who stood in the lobby and shook many hands before calling it a night…Nothing can hurt me…Big Black car…to sum it up Big Star never had the opportunity to succeed.  From the movie, there was just a sense of bad luck with the band.  Chris Bell recorded a 45, I am the cosmos, and tragically died at 27.  The original bassist left after the second album.   And to capture the thought are the lines from their song Holocaust, “Everybody goes as far as they can.” (Big Star/Third)

Thank you for reading this.

  

The Feelies play a rare gig on Long Island

Sunday 4/27/14 19:29

Mike Sweeney a friend from work has told me for years how he loved The Feelies.  Have you ever heard of them?  Of course, but I couldn’t tell you a Feelies song since none of their albums or singles sold very well.  This was a band which influenced other artists, like REM and Sonic Youth.  Mike asked, so many years ago, ever seen them?  No.  And it was a shame since they broke up for move than fifteen years.  But back in 2009, I saw them play an REM cover (Carnival of Sorts) at the Carnegie Hall show which consisted of various bands and artists covering REM songs.  To this date it was the last time REM played together.  It was also one of the first reunion shows for The Feelies.  The band has the reputation of playing infrequently.  The last time I heard they were in the area was last summer when they played the final sold out shows at the now defunct Hoboken landmark; Maxwells.   A few weeks ago, I found out The Feelies were playing at the WestHampton theater.  Cool, they are on Long Island.  I have to go.  My friend Jeff and I drove east.  It was the first time for me at this quaint venue which promotes and eclectic diversity of acts.  I’ve been intimated by the costs for the tickets.  For instance Natalie Merchant is playing there in a few months.  The cost per a ticket for her show is in the range of $130.00.  I’d love to take Ali, but we can’t afford it. Last night Jeff and I sat in the second row which accounts for the clear pictures for a respectful $35.00 each.   It was not close to sell out.  There were empty seats on the sides and even in the front row.  I would assume there were about a hundred of us in the cozy and warm theater which had carpeted steps and wooden banisters; as if we slipped to somewhere in the distant past.  It is immaculate inside. Not a seat was corrupted or abused by hostile punks or intoxicated seniors who are looking to recreate a delusional magic they erupted decades before.  I was a little disappointed by the lack of an audience.  It was so quiet before the band took to the darkened stage, everyone could overhead some fella a few rows behind us proclaim in a fake accent - in that classic SNL skit -I mean early eighties skit - Joe Piscabo, “You’re from Jersey?”  Between songs as the band tuned their instruments or powdered their hands, it became silent in the dark room except for the same character who made comments such as, “It’s so quiet in here, like we’re in a church.” Others called out so they could be heard by the band, “You guys sound great…really.”  Alright, enough, let’s enjoy the moment of silence before the open chords of the guitar break through.  Brenda Sauter, bassist would say thanks after each song.  But there was little banter or even gestures between the members of the band.   They seem cold towards one another, as if they were just going through the motions of playing. There was no introduction or sharing or stories of their illustrious past, there was no need to discuss the past.  The band played the past and present from a scarce catalog of more than thirty years, but only recorded five critically acclaimed albums together.  Glenn Mercer and Bill Million were perfect together even with broken strings - they did not need the glances towards each other, they were spot on.  As they played, they warmed up, danced about the stage.  There was not an opening band.  There was no need for one.  The band captivated us for close to three hours, played an REM cover, Shaking Through. Covers by the Velvet Underground and The Beatles (Me and My Monkey) I just hope they discovered a venue last night and will consider returning to it since it appears they have played in the same venues for the past few years.  Brenda said between a song; “You have a beautiful town.”  But maybe next time we can bring a few more of our arses into a Saturday night in Westhampton and fill up the plush maroon seats and share the joy of this band.  Then you too can hear our beloved wise ass from the rows behind us; plead to the sweaty performers who slowly came out for a third set, “Stop it already, I need to take a piss!”

Thank you for reading this.

Is Roger McGuinn an exceptional musician, an American treasure...or a paranoid celebrity?

4/12/14 20:33 Home

On Thursday night I drove to Bay Shore from Port Jefferson.  I’m at the end of my rope with my GPS which I bought a few years ago.  It has the annoying tendency to bring me though all sorts of side roads and through every street light which just happens to have ability to sprint to red when I approach.  On a rare occasion I don’t mind the scenic view.  I get to see small hamlets in Pennsylvania where I travel for work, and if I have the time - I truly appreciate the faded architecture, quaint towns with empty benches on deserted sidewalks, stoic tree lined Main Street... but the GPS gives and takes.  It does not filter.  I have been in places where share panic creeps up and I pray to God to let the lights turn to green and please keep the car running.  Don't stop!  The GPS was up to some old tricks on my journey to the Bolton Center.  The good news I made it on time for the Roger McGuinn show.  I can’t complain, and on the way back home I let my sense of direction lead the way and made it home in good time.  Before I write about after the show, I have to share some thoughts.  For instance you’re waiting for the story why I feel Roger McGuinn may suffer from a severe dose of paranoia or perhaps it’s something else he’s battling with?  First, the Bolton Center is a very intimate venue, less than 265 seats, the back rows rise up so you’d need to walk up a flight of stairs to get to your seat unless you’re in the VIP section.  For a little place - you can’t go wrong taking a hike.  I took my seat, middle of the theater and scanned over the rest of the sold out crowd, I was one of the youngest. The seats were compact and had an elbow in my sides for the first half of the show.  Even a dirty look couldn't stop the physical contact.  Anyway, I should be one the youngest. This was a Roger McGuinn show for God’s sake, the man was one of the Byrds, the singer, the leader for all of those classic albums.  1965...the year I was born. He is not from my generation.  He came out playing, “So you want to be a rock n roll star,” on his Rickenbacker.  His voice was crisp and his playing blew me away.  The set which was roughly two hours with a fifteen minute intermission.  The show was presented without flaws and was full of insightful stories of how the Byrds started, from their name (Thanksgiving) to the legends they worked with and the side-notes behind their songs, the Dylan classic, “Mr. Tambourine Man”, which was the first “rock” single Columbia released.  The now classic record company was very conservative.  The story behind his single for the Easy Rider soundtrack is classic, Dylan wrote some lyrics on a napkin and Peter Fonda who starred and directed the movie brought it to Roger.  When Fonda came to his house with the napkin, he told Roger, Dylan said, “Let McGuinn work on it, he came make something out of it.”   The story how they came to write 8 Miles High was funny, and as he played the opening, he said he filled it in with some John Coltrane and Andres Sagovia…  Chestnut Mare, and songs off Sweetheart of the Rodeo, Turn, Turn, Turn. There unique Irish folk songs, old time ancient maritime songs from whaling ships as well as more stories.  He played the 12 String guitar as well as acoustic and banjo.  As the show progressed and as I felt in awe for the supreme musician.  I know it sounds like bull shit, but honestly - I felt it was an honor - to be in his audience.  McGuinn is an American treasure.  I was amazed at his mastery of the guitar.  And I mean it.  I’d like to see him again.  Alright, so you may know I like autographs.  I heard McGuinn does not come out after the show to sign at his merchandise table.  There were some signed CD’s and posters for sale. Not too expensive, but I brought an album with me which I left in the car. After the concert I head out to my car which I parked behind the theater.  I sat down, turned the key and looked at my album.  I felt that tug; he’s still here and you can wait outside and…maybe get him to sign it?  I walk over the stage door in back and figure; I’ll knock and see if I can get this done.  There were two guys standing off to the side.  I bang.  “What are you doing?”  I was going to see if I can get this signed.  “No, you can’t do that; you’re going to piss him off!”  Will he come out there?  “We’ll see…just wait.”  While waiting with the two other men who were younger than me, I heard their stories they exchanged with one another, meeting Sting and Bono, seeing President Carter last week.  One of them tells us - he has more than a thousand autographs and pictures.  Let’s call him Celebrity.  I feel this is a good sign, since Celebrity knows what he’s doing and I’m going home with signed album.  He shows us pictures of him and Sandra Bullock, Robert Deniro, Brad Pitt. I kid you not.  How do you?  He was coy,“Friends tell me where to go.”  It was getting later and getting a little cooler standing outside in the night air; a truck is backed up to the stage door.  One of the employees for the theater opens the stage door and tells us, “He’s not signing.”  Celebrity tells him, “I just want a picture, I can ask - right?”  The employee shrugs his shoulders giving us the impression, we don't get it...Roger McGuinn is a different guy, he’s not doing anything.  Keep in mind, there were…one…two…three of us.  That is all.  Not a big crowd to swarm over the rock n roll star.  What’s up?  But remember I read McGuinn does not sign.  His wife, Camille is his manager and as I learned – she is his main security guard.  I encountered her direct and blunt orders.  She does not let anyone close to him. Before the brief sighting outside with the legend, his instruments were packed into the truck.  Celebrity tells me, “Don’t try to shake his hand.”  I nod.  I get it; he’s a musician and does not want my big claws to squeeze too tight and perhaps bust a knuckle or something.  I get it.  The back door opens and his wife, all 5 foot 6 storms up to us, waving her index finger, shaking her head,  “No, it’s not happening!  Good night!”  Being the tallest of the three, she comes up to me… gently but sternly pushes me away.  Why?  I ask her.  I just want one autograph.  And this is what she repeated over and over which shocked me, “It’s too dangerous.  It’s too dangerous.  No!  It’s too dangerous!”  While I am being pushed away, I see the hunched over rock n roll star escape from the open stage door and flee into the waiting truck, his door closes and he is secure.  Who is this?  I saw this once before when I saw President Obama in Philadelphia.  That’s another story.  This is Roger McGuinn, 1965, The Byrds, Turn...turn...turn...and his wife (maybe she was a former security guard and likes the role of enforcer) she gets in the truck and they drive off.  Roger waves.  That was nice.  I waved my album back to him and asked the rock star, just one autograph?  The truck drove off.  Celebrity calls his wife a bitch.  No, I don’t think so.  She was tough.  She loves her husband and wants to protect him.   And I tell them as they walk away, McGuinn is from the John Lennon generation.  And they walk away not knowing what I was trying to convey.  Take a look at what happened to Lennon.  Mark David Chapman, was one Lennon’s fans.  Maybe Roger is not taking any chances?  Even if it was only three of us; I’m sorry to have encountered such a negative reaction from him and his wife.  Most of the artists I meet are grateful for the recognition.  Not for Rock N Roll star, who does not have to sign anything or say a word.  I understand.  Wave to the crowds.  All three of us who stood there driven by vanity.  It was a lesson learned for me as well.  I should have enjoyed the show and went home with my album, and respected the privacy of the man and his wife. 

Dang, I still had some questions I wanted to ask him for this blog.  Oh well…

Thank you for reading this

An assorted REM Reunion at Webster Hall

4/27/13 17:12 Home

The last two nights I was in the city.  I bought tickets the moment I heard Peter Buck was opening up for Robyn Hitchcock at Webster Hall.  Ali and were looking forward to the show, but just in case, I gave Eric a head’s up.  I told him, I might ask you to attend a show in the city.  Who?  Robyn Hitchcock.  Cool I like him.  Let me know.  Thursday, I tell him, looks like Ali is going, but thanks.  Friday comes and Ali can’t make it and then Eric tells me he can’t make it and I’m walking around the office looking for someone who could.  I’m out of luck, but I suck it up and drive into the city, park on 15^th just as a car hit their alarm, the car's lights flashed telling me they were arriving and eventually pulling out.  What luck.  It was close to Irving Plaza, but I made my way to 11^th, passed a Greek place which look very appealing. I avoided one of the premier book stores like a good disciplined man: Strand.  I’m selling my books on EBay since I have so many which are either signed or first edition.  I have amassed a library of good books.  This will be another blog entry some other time, you want to read about the show and I’m sorry. I was prepared for the show.  I bought Buck’s LP – which is limited edition – only 2000 copies were released - vinyl - on a small independent label Mississippi Records in Oregon.  I wanted to hear what he would do without the major influence of REM or his other bands like Baseball Project, Tired Pony, Minus 5 and Venus 3.  The album captures the music that Buck gravitates to when he places a needle to thin grooves.  You know he was having a ball recording it.  On the way to Webster Hall I saw Mike Mills walking in front of me, he has a sort of unique strut and his cowboy boots gave him away.  I caught up to him and like a kid, “Mike!” I called out. He turned around, not recognizing the chump who called out his name and said, “Hey...” and moved on up and in the venue.  I caught up to him again and asked if the Baseball Project would come back around, “Eventually,” I could have asked if REM would come back, but I knew the answer.  I assumed Mills was playing bass in Bucks’ band which is called Richard M. Nixon.  They didn’t have a bass player.   Surprisingly Peter was talkative, I dare say - comfortable almost aloof on the stage.  He said he hasn’t played this venue since 85, when it was The Ritz.   I think by ’85 REM were too big to play there since the previous year I saw them at The Beacon.  I know I am a dorky fan.  

Here is the set list: So Long Johnny, It’s Alright, Give me back my wig,  10 Million BC, Planet of The Apes, Monkey Man, Vaso Loco, Outta the House, Near Wild Heaven, Pushing too hard, I’m Alive.

 Buck’s band consisted of Bill Rieflin on drums, REM’s last drummer, Scott McCaughey, REM’s fifth man,  and Kurt Bloch.  Mills eventually joined Peter on stage and they played the REM song Near Wild Heaven.  Was this the first time they played an REM song?  Let the Murmurs.com and REM HQers take note...Lenny Kaye from Patti Smith’s band joined him as well and performed Pushing too Hard…I was debating on calling it a night and head home.   I felt the mission was accomplished I saw the band I wanted to see.  I even sold the extra ticket to some guy who was looking for a freebie…I sold it to him for $10…cheapo…better than nothing.  I really don’t know too many Robyn Hitchcock songs.  I used this same excuse a few years ago when Ali and I went to see Buck and the rest of the Venus 3 support Robyn at the Knitting factory.  As you may know from the blog postings we are REM fans.  I repeat myself.  The rationale then, we had a chance to talk to meet and talk to Peter before the set.  We were honest and told him we didn’t know much of Hitchcock’s songs.  Oh you should stick around, he has great music.  I’m sure you’d like it.  Not taking his suggestion we left.  It was an early night.  So I waited for Robyn to come on and had a beer in the shadows. I was glad I stayed, it was a great show.  I liked how Robyn shared surrealistic stories before each song.  Each time telling us Bill Rieflin was going to keep us in tempo…He wore bright purple pants or some other brightness under the stage lights and a polka dotted shirt.  He will be sixty next week and this is a happy birthday to him.  The set was very diverse, included songs from his repotore, Kingdom of Love; I love you, Madonna of the Wasps, Adventure Rocket ship, as well as a Dylan cover.   Mike Mills joined him as did Lenny.  They closed the night with the Velvet Underground classic: Waiting for my man and finally an excellent version of The Beatles, She says…  She says…and the lights gradually came on as Robyn waved and walked off the stage.   In the night I found myself on the sidewalk, headed back to the car and not waiting as I'd normally do - to meet the band - since I don’t have to always be the obsessive compulsive neurotic fan.  Right? But if Ali was there…well then…neurosis and the chance encounter is rampant.

Thank you for reading this

Cheap Trick at The Paramount Huntington, NY 12 8 11

12/9/11 sometime in the morning on the rush hour train out of Port Jefferson.

It’s Friday morning and I’m on the train. We’re pulling into St. James. There are the usual commuters mingling about, slowly moving into the train. So last night was the last event for the week. Cheap Trick played at the Paramount in Huntington. It’s a new venue for Long Island which has brought some headliners. The building used to house the IMAC theatre, which had some concerts, like some new age artist you’d hear on NPR’s Echoes on Sunday nights. I saw Stanley Jordan the jazz guitarist at IMAC and a few friends and I saw Tragically Hip what ten years ago. The theatre was cool, since there were old seats and ornate moldings on the ceiling. At one time it was a vaudeville theatre. When I lived in Huntington about 20 years ago, I worked in the theatre, fixing some of the molding as best I could which later needed a professional. So, I was curious to see the changes since I heard it’s as if Long Island now has its own city club. The lobby was more open and on either side was steps that led to a bad, a large window in the back looked over New York Avenue. MTS and I walked up a slight slope which led out to the floor. One either side a large bar was set against the wall. The beers were expensive for the small plastic cup they served it in, but the bartenders as well as the folks working at the venue were friendly. The ceiling had a rustic appearance, stripped bare, the concrete roof with ceiled cracks and steel support beams appeared in tact and sound. There was a balcony on both sides which had seats and in the back were more rows of seats. From the way the place was decorated the designers were creeping close to Hard Rock Café or a House of Blues theme with flames and sheet metal, scripted flare. Inside the bathroom appeared original graffiti which the artist actually signed his name to in the corner I was too busy to notice what the painting was. If you had seats, the tickets were more money than the GA we paid, but both Mike and I prefer the floor, getting closer to band. Elvis Costello played the first event at The Paramount, BB King and I’m trying to remember who else. Willie Nelson…how can I forget? Can’t really think of any more at this time, I’m exhausted. I got to bed at 12:30ish and woke up five hours later, but really who gives a shit about my lack of sleep. Cheap Trick was amazing, I was a little reluctant to shell out that much for a band that I liked but was never a huge fan. Not to say I didn’t like them. Since I bought the tickets I took out some CD’s of the from the library, they released a live album that I think was recorded somewhere in Illinois, I will get the title, but the recording was tight, they had some appearances from the likes of Billy Cochran from The Smashing Pumpkins. Like last night, the band barley let up; if there was a second or a pause they ripped into another song, played The Beatles Magical Mystery Tour as if they owned it. She’s Tight which brought back images of the video from thirty years ago. The Dream Police which I would say in my favorite, and I Want You to Want Me. Rickie Nilsson kept flipping guitar picks out into the audience and like a kid I wanted to get one. I have one of his from when I saw them perform at LeMore Brooklyn. I have a metal First Aid box that looks like it came from the Korean War which contains my childhood mementos, and inside with some baseball cards and a Suzanne B Anthony Dollar is that white guitar pick. Rickie tossed a handful out at the end of the show and both Mike and I grabbed one. I have to write about the opening band, Mike Leigh or Matt Lee or whoever they were - sucked the fuck- out- of- Lee. The lead singer/guitarist rock star posing drunk played like shit. They played some copies like Jimi Hendrix Manic Depression which was barely recognizable, drunk fuck rubbed his guitar against the stand, the mic fell and he looked like an idiot. There was the rock star salute he sung about living in New York and wanted the crowd to sing a long, he took his mic and shoved it into some faces that yelled or hummed. If he shoved it in my face, I would have told him to hang it up shit head and get off the stage. Odd how Cheap Trick didn’t mention them when they came on the stage or at their encore.

Turns out it was Joey Ramone’s younger brother Mickey Leigh. If Joey was in the audience he would have kicked the shit out of this little brother. I wrote this review of the performance for his web site, but I can guarantee it will never see the light of day:

I was at last night’s show. Didn’t know who I was watching since there was nothing on the drum kit. or on the keyboard, or even the back drop to tell us who was on the stage. I called The Paramount, who was that? They sucked!
It’s a shame, since it’s the first time I saw Mickey perform – he appeared drunk. Their rendition of Hendrix’ Manic Depression was horrible. The band was lame. He posed like a rock star, rubbing his guitar on the mic stand. Are you serious? I haven’t that shit since 1979. The theatrics were an obvious replacement for the “musician.” Mickey mentioned wearing out his welcome last night before he tripped off the stage. Please note, if you come on stage and act like an idiot there will be little appreciation from any crowd. Cheap Trick kicked ass and schooled you, besides they didn’t mention the shit show Yorkesta once while they were on the stage.