I Hate These Songs!

In Defense Of The Fender Stratocaster......

2011-12-26T15:57:00.024-05:00

Conventional rock and roll wisdom says that Strats are not a "rock" guitar. They are a "funk" guitar, they are a "soul" guitar, they are a "blues" guitar. But for Rockabilly? No, that's a Gretsch. For Punk Rock? No, that's a Les Paul Junior. For Metal? No, that's something pointy with too many frets. For Country? No, that's a Telecaster.

As for me, it took me a long time to come around to the ways of Strat-love. I even refused to let a great guitarist join my old band on the grounds that he played a Strat. I hated them with a passion. I was wrong, people.

Why do us "rocker" types hate Strats so much? I believe the reason is threefold:

REASON NUMERO UNO- "The terrible, awful people who have famously played Strats." It all starts with a very overrated man named Eric Clapton. He was great in his early years, when he played Les Pauls, SGs, Teles, 335s, etc. But as soon as he fell under the spell of the Stratocaster, it was all over. He not only came to epitomize the Strat player, he came to epitomize watered down, shitty white blues music. Terrible crimes he committed against his blues/rock roots, all the while clutching a black Strat in his puffy hands and making a queasy expression that most people thought meant he was a kindly British rock star having a good old time.Of course, that grimace of puke to come really signifies a deep, horrible self knowledge. This knowledge comes after you have sold out your high minded ideals for a steady and massively huge paycheck and a couple rolls in the hay with George Harrison's wife. This often comes with the realization that your playing has become trite, obvious and boring. Because this brings you millions of dollars, you will not seek to change this. But forever will you suffer the guilt and shame.

ERIC CLAPTON IS NOT FIT TO WAX THE LARGE, BLACK BALLS OF MUDDY WATERS. It has to be said.

(LEFT: The great Buddy Holly.) So who, besides Clapton, ruined the Strat for us all? Well, a man named Stevie Ray Vaughan really made the Strat the horridly common instrument it is today. Stevie was actually a really great guitarist who played with soul and grit and real blues feeling. He sold all those qualities to a major label in order to be more like his hero Eric Clapton, then he cacked it in a helicopter, thereby leaving us a couple listenable records, along with some dreck. At least he spared us the further crimes against rock and roll he was most likely about to commit with his trademark beat up 60s Strat. I'd like to think he would have eventually wised up and gone underground, becoming a fixture on the chitlin circuit and shunning the garish MTV spotlight. I'm a fan, sadly, and that's a fan's wishful thinking. Other Strat-ruiners: Mark Knopfler of Dire Straits, Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day (now busy ruining the LP Junior for us all), U2's constipated martini bar waiter "The Edge", and lots, lots more, including frog faced frat boy John Mayer and retarded Allman Brother Johnny Lang.

REASON NUMERO DOS that we hate the Strat: "It's too common." Yes, the Strat is the highest selling guitar of all time, and the most copied. More guitars resemble a Strat than any other guitar shape. Almost every guitar maker, large and small, have Strat like guitars. Even Gibson, who recently bought the Charvel company (who were very famous in the 80s for making really gaudy modernized Strat copies, which led to the coining of the term "Superstrat"). Only the Les Paul guitar shape is as close to being as recognizable and constantly copied.

(Left: The great Dave Alvin and his well worn 60s Strat.)
REASON NUMERO TRES: "They sound so thin and wimpy." The Stratocaster, like the Telecaster before it, was developed with single coil pickups, the latest in technology in 1954 when it was designed. These pickups are capable of a wide variety of sounds, but they do favor the cutting, thin, high end treble side of tone. This guitar was developed for playing early country music and western swing, like the Telecaster, as these were Leo Fender's favorite musics. Compared to slightly later technology developed by Gibson and Grestch in the form of "humbucking" pickups, they are also kind of buzzy and noisy when plugged into a cranked amp. Humbucking pickups eliminate the buzz, but also eliminate the high, keening wail of an original Strat bridge pickup.

I will now address each of those concerns, proving once and for all that the Stratocaster is the ultimate rock and roll guitar.

1) Famous Strat players: Yes, hacks like Eric Clapton are associated with the Strat. Guess who else played one? Buddy Holly was the first well known Strat player. Buddy revolutionized pop music in the mid fifties, wrote his own songs, dressed sharp, and was rarely seen without his trademark mid fifties sunburst Strat. In fact, he owned several, and outside of acoustics, was never seen playing a Gibson.

ROCKABILLY AND SURF MUSIC: Other rockabilly players besides the great Buddy Holly, favored strats. Ronnie Dawson, of "Action Packed" and "Rockin Bones" fame, always played one. So did Johnny Meeks from Gene Vincent and the Bluecaps. As did Roland Janes, who played on Sun Records sessions by Jerry Lee, Billy Lee Riley, Charlie Rich and more. Sonny Burgess and James Burton have been seen with Strats, as well. Dave Alvin of the Blasters and Jimmie Vaughan (yes, Stevies' bro) have been seen playing nothing but Strats for their blues/country/RnB based musics in modern times. As for the Surf? The Ventures, the Shadows, The Trashmen, Dick Dale. These giants of reverb and tremolo all played Strats. The hollow twang of surf music would not have existed without the Stratocaster. Even the Beatles played Strats on several cuts on "Rubber Soul" and "Revolver". Here are the Shadows with Cliff Richard defining 60s Brit Pop. Shadows guitarist Hank Marvin had the first Strat in Britain and his guitar heroics on said bright red Strat began the UK's enduring love affair with the electric guitar.

(At left, the Shadows rock out on matching Strats.)
Another Strat hero was Jimi Hendrix. Probably the most famous guitarist of all time, and the most famous Strat player. He sold more Strats than all the guitar salesmen on the planet, just by making it his instrument of choice. He liked Strats because Buddy Guy and Ike Turner did. That's right, Ike Turner. Perhaps one of the earliest bad ass guitar heroes, Ike stuck pretty close to his Strat collection for the entirety of his career. He beat his women and he beat his guitars, but both seemed to do alright for themselves afterward.

(Check the pic on the right to see Ike and Tina and their 1950s Strat.) Brother Wayne Kramer from Michigan Proto Punks the MC5 played a Strat quite often in his heyday (and today), as did his counterpart Ron Asheton from the amazing Stooges. Yep, that's a Stratocaster being flogged on such ballsy rock epics as "Kick Out The Jams", "Down On The Street" and "TV Eye".

That's Ron Asheton looking superemely cool with his late 50s Strat. But surely a Strat is no good for Punk music, one says? Hmm. How about Bob Andrews from Generation X, who used one more often than not? How about Robert Quine from Richard Hell and the Voidoids, who rarely played anything but a Strat? What about the brilliant Ruts guitarist Paul Fox? He was a Strat player.

Here's Bob from Gen X reminding you that punks played Strats in 1977.
What about heavy metal? Surely the shrill, quacking Strat sound couldn't keep up with the balls out punch of a metal riff? I'm not sure my favorite metal guitar player, the human riff factory that is Fast Eddie Clarke of Motorhead and Fastway, would agree. See below.

Sticking up for Strats in metal would also be... Richie Blackmore, Yngwie Malmsteen,Eddie Van Halen, and ...oh, just every guitarist in Iron Maiden, plus Steve Harris, who plays a Fender Precision. That's the Bass version of the Strat, for those keeping score at home. Witness:

I think I've just about wiped away that image from your mind, right? The one where you picture Eric Clapton's unfortunate weasel face grimacing in bowel-constricted agony as he plays another one of his cliche ridden, ham fingered solos while the world's most boring audiences cheer him on listlessly? Just take another look if you need to, while the rest of us move on to...

COUNTRY MUSIC. Although the Strat is now widely associated with blues and blues rock, and the Telecaster is universally known as "the country guitar, the Strat itself was originally designed for country players, by country players and one particular country fan by the name of Leo Fender. Here's the one man who, besides Mr Fender, contributed most to the perfect functionality and design of the Stratocaster.

That's Bill Carson, who played amazingly hot guitar licks for country music legend Hank Thompson's band, the Brazos Valley Boys, in "Country Music California" in the early 1950s. For those of you who don't know, Cali was once second only to Tennessee as the leading state providing country music to the hungry masses, back when the hungry masses had taste. That was a long time ago. Bill here was also a close friend of Leo Fender, and that Strat he's holding there is one of the first few ever made. Lep gave Bill a strat to test out onstage, and Bill's carefully worded opinion on the instrument contains many of the ideas we now associate with every Stratocaster. He was key in developing the instrument's wide variety of sounds and it's curvaceous and comfortable body shape.

Now that you've realized that just as many Strat players have rocked the ballsy riffs as Les Paul players, let's move on to reason number two: "The Strat is just too common".

Well, that one is true. Many guitarists like to consider themselves different, and will thusly play weird or obscure or highly customized guitars to stand out from the pack, who mostly play the two most popular guitars, the Strat (in its many variations) and the Les Paul (which also exists in many variations).

I used to think this as well. Then I played a Les Paul, and I played a Strat. They may be common, but there's a reason: They have not been beatn in design or functionality yet. Nor have they been beaten in beauty or tone or versatility. You see alot of Rockabilly guitarists playing Gretsches, but not many (if any) metal players. The Strat, however, is comfortable on metal stages, rockabilly stages, punk stages, country stages...just about any form of music. It really is a case of Guitar Darwinism. The best guitars will win. Strats and Les Pauls really are the best. And they have been since the early 1950s when they were designed. What other 1950s technology do we still use today? So yes, the Strat is common. Because it's the best.

Now we come to reason number three: "The Strat is too thin and wimpy sounding." Hmm. Perhaps the following clip, made with a stock late 60s Strat, with no pickup modifications at all, will make you question that widely held opinion?

And then there's the best thing about the Strat: it's ability to be easily modified. Strats are the ultimate DIY "hot rodding" platform. You can do anything you want with a Strat, because Leo Fender designed it to be that way. He wanted a guitar you could take apart, easily service, easily modify and personalize. And in designing this, he designed the ultimate guitar. The most comfortable to play, the guitar possessing the widest variety of sounds, the best looking guitar.

One of the many ways players have modified the Strat concerns it's "wimpy" or "thin" bridge pickup tone. Just as an aside, the bridge pickup on a Strat can indeed sometimes be thin and glassy. However, if a player just switches the pickup selector to the neck and middle pickups, one discovers a huge, thick, overwhelmingly grungy and dirty tone, with a cranked amp. If this is still not loud and aggressive enough for you, many players, such as fast Eddie Clarke, Eddie VH, Billie Joe from Green Day, some of the Iron Maiden guys, etc etc have opted to switch their Strat's single coil brisge pickup out for a double coil humbucker. This will fatten up that razor sharp, blade thin Strat sound, giving you the best of both worlds in one guitar (Gibson and Fender tones). Some Strat players say this is sacrilege and spoils both the original look and sound of the guitar, but I say have at it. Strats are for personalizing and playing. They were part of one man's search for the perfect multi function proletariat guitar back in the 1950s, and like the 1950s hot rod cars they were built to resemble, they exist for the driver/player to modify, customize and personalize. See the guitar below, which would be suitable for pretty much any kind of music the world has to offer.

In short, the Strat is both the world's most popular and most undervalued instrument. It looks great, sounds great and feels great. If you need other sounds, the Strat can take on new personalities with just some simple modifications. There's very little a Strat cannot do, and just about nothing a Strat hasn't done, from Rockabilly to grunge to pop to punk to RnB to soul to metal. Where there is guitar noise, there is likely a Strat. Don't hate, celebrate.

To the right is my newest guitar, a Lake Placid Blue 60s style Strat. I'm going to do some mods to it that I will talk about in later Blogs, I'm sure. Hope you enjoyed my Strat rant, and hope it changed your mind a little bit about the perfect versatility of a Stratocaster. And let's remember, it's not what guitar you play, but what you play on that guitar, that counts.

What This Year Has Done To Us All: The Best Records of 2011.

2011-12-20T14:29:00.006-05:00

Howdy cowpokes. So this has been one crazy year, eh? Eh? Political turmoil, economic despair, personal upheaval, this year had the whole plate of nachos with the guacamole and everything.

As for me, I moved back to Michigan (Ann Arbor/Ypsi) from Boston and that is going to have to be a whole other blog, because I have alot to say about that. Huge changes for me. As always, music mattered. It's the one constant in my life, and if you're reading this, maybe yours, too. I don't "have" religion, so I need a belief system. I betchya by golly wow that music is that system o' belief. And unlike Christianity, you can dance to it.

Here are my picks for the best ten albums I heard this year. I like alot of genres. I follow alot of different scenes and movements. I can tell you that while everything good is wholly underground these days, there are alot of great songs being written and alot of great music being made. I consider myself a Rock And Roll fan. And to me that encompasses Rockabilly, Blues, Soul, Metal, Country, Punk, Garage...anything fun and soulful, anything that sounds good loud. Anything with guitars, that is, as you will not find me listening to rap or techno or most modern pop music. Let us not dawdle any longer in the lobby of awesomeness. Let's walk right in the main entrance, shall we?

10) Wanda Jackson-The Party Ain't Over
Hometown hero Jack White did quite a number on Loretta Lynn's career a few years back, making her "relevant" again with a modern sounding album of country/rockabilly nuggets that went down smooth and nutritious, like a hot bean burrito on a winter's day. Pretty much the same deal with my fave female rockabilly singer, the one and only Wanda Jackson. In her mid 70s, Wanda is still full of life and rock'n'roll kicks, with a mega dose of country soul slathered on top. I've seen her live a few times in the last couple of years and she has always been a good time. Elvis thought so, too, back in the 50s when the two briefly dated. Jack White's energy and inventiveness is a present force on this record, but he doesn't step all over the main instrument here which is Wanda's growling hellkitten of a voice. She hasn't lost a single iota of firepower and man, I likes me some of that. It's a fun album, and if you like rockabilly and country sounds, you should own it.

9)Burzum- "Fallen"
You know, I almost put Amon Amarth's "Surtur Rising" on here instead. Because although this new Burzum release is a better album and way more interesting, Amon Amarth are sort of less challenging politically. An album made by mead swilling viking metalheads is sort of easier to wrap one's head around than an album made by a known racist and convicted murderer. These are the times we live in , folks. I probably don't have to tell you that Varg Vikernes, who is Burzum and plays every instrument on all Burzum records (for the most part), was convicted of burning churches in his home country of Norway as well as killing his former bandmate and modern Black Metal mastermind Euronymous back in the 90s. His politics have always leaned heavily to the right. Having said that, his music is often compelling and bordering on genius. This is Burzums' second release since Varg's release from prison (the Norwgian criminal system is, uh, very lenient), and while it is typically dense and challenging, it's much less so than any other Burzum album, and there are even moments of, dare I say it? Commercialization. Apparently this album was very influenced by the early recordings of the Cure, and despite being a metal album, this is obvious right away. There is a very attractive melancholy beauty here, despite the harshness of Varg's vocals and the tinny screech of his guitars. This album is perfect for walking or driving around on a quiet, overcast day, much like alot of 80s British Goth Rock. Don't get me wrong, it's still metal. The guitars are loud and staccato and the vocals are growled and screeched. But it's still kind of, well...pretty. Varg has even toned down his vaugely right wing lyrics for this album, in fact you'd be hard pressed to find one right wing statement. Whether this is a result of a rethinking of policy or just an attempt to sell more records, I don't know. I'm going to say I doubt it's a rethinking of policy. Either way, this is definitely Burzum's best album, and while I disagree with Varg's politics completely, I really, really like this album. If you can get past Varg's past, you'll probably dig it too.

8)Mayer Hawthorne- "How Do You Do"
Another Ann Arbor/Detroit homeboy, Mayer is sort of the smooth, Motown style equivalent to Boston's rowdy faux-Stax style soul shouter Eli "Paperboy" Reed. Reed gets into serious gutbucket territory ala southern 60s soul sounds, while Mayer sticks to smooth, shimmering, Motown style sophistication. This is a great album, not just because Snoop Dogg guests on it and does not rap but actually SINGS. It's a great album because Mayer is a true soul disciple and plays it close to home with a much needed modern day recycling of those classic all but forgotten 60s Motown sounds. People say he's a poser, but the proof is in the soul pudding. And this album, while never making you forget how great Motown was, is some pretty tasty soul pudding.

7)Graveyard- Hisingen Blues
Long hair, western shirts, bellbottoms, stoned-slack facial expressions, vintage guitars, and some of the most depressive, angry, sullen, haunted lyrics this side of the first Black Sabbath album? Sign me right the fuck up, Graveyard from Sweden! This record writhes and punches like the best 60s stoner rock/metal, but it does so with such an undercurrent of misery and paranoia that it actually out-glooms alot of the more obviously gloomy stuff from back then, and adds a thoroughly modern punky urgency to boot. And lest I forget, the songwriting is flawless. If you wish Soundgarden had brains, you'll like this album. If you wish Black Sabbath had better breath, you'll dig this swingin' platter. If you wish Pentagram had bothered to write songs while getting stoned before the recording session, this is the album for you.

6)Chris Isaak- Beyond The Sun
I've been a fan of Chris Isaak's gloomy sullen rockabilly-pop for years now. I've seen him live twice and actually met the man himself randomly wandering around Boston one summer day. Nice fella. Chris has always been an obvious rockabilly/country nut (I mean, look at his hair, man), and this double album of covers recorded at the famed Sun Studios in Memphis finally puts proof to that well known assumption. Covers of Elvis, Jerry Lee, Roy Orbison, Johnny Cash, etc etc are all given a modern sheen that amps up the game a bit. The world famous Sun Records slapback echo/delay is served in heaping helpings here, and Chris' amazing voice warmly glides through the songs in a natural way that few modern rockabilly singers could manage. The one slightly less shining moment is the Chris Isaak original that, while not a terrible song, does not sit well with the classic, timeless greatness of the covers. Ignore that, and you have one stomping, greasy hellfire of a party album. Simply sublime.

5)In Solitude- The World. The Flesh. The Devil.
Sweden's In Solitude bring me back to my pimply adolescent metal head days, both looking and sounding like the coolest NWOBHM band that never happened. A great occult/black metal/punk image, really solid, catchy ass songwriting and a huge King Diamond influence really seal the deal for me. I love, love, love this record. See my earlier piece on the band in my post "You Too Can Have The Stamina Of The Cavemen".

4)The Smoking Popes- This Is Only A Test
I've loved these Chicago pop punk legends ever since they opened for Morrissey on his 1993 "Your Arsenal" tour. The big hype then was that the Popes sounded like Morrissey singing for the Ramones, and that's still somewhat true, but as they've evolved as a band, they've become more sophisticated musically. The big criticism of their recent records is that they've started sounding like all the emo-pop-punk bands that they influenced. Not sure if that's true, because I don't listen to that kind of garbage juice. I do know that alot of bands like Dashboard Confessional or whoever have turned a love for the Popes' melancholy love lorn pop punk into a maudlin mock rock mope fest. But that's not the Popes' fault. This record could have been a huge joke, as it's...yes... a "concept" record, sung from the perspective of a high school kid. Yeah, that IS sort of lame, and it would have fallen flat without the glorious pop songwriting of the Caterer clan (three fourths of this band are related to each other by blood). The songs are GREAT, especially the exuberant "Punk Band", the story of a youngster finally finding some joy in the world as the singer of a high school punk band going on tour in a van. Uh, it's way better than it sounds.

3)Beady Eye- Different Gear, Still Speeding
I'm a huge Oasis fan and I don't care who knows it. The very British loud guitar pop of the Gallagher Bros will always have a special place in my blackened, stinking heart valves. They updated the British Invasion sounds of the 60s and became sort of a 90s version of the Who or Small Faces. NOT, as they'd prefer, a 90s version of the Beatles, but pretty good job nonetheless. This is Oasis' first album without their main songwriter, the elder Gallagher brother Noel. Noel is solely responsible for not only virtually every classic Oasis tune, but virtually every shitty Oasis tune as well. So the big question was could the lads pull it off without their songwriter? Answer is...pretty much. These songs sound very much like a punkier, faster Oasis. Liam Gallagher's snotty Johnny Rotten meets Johnny Lennon voice does tend to grate after awhile, without the warmer tones of his brother's voice to balance it out. Still, extremely derivative but awesome songs like "The Roller" and "Beatles And Stones" are loud, fun, and catchy as hell, with a really great vintage guitar buzz throughout. It's no "Definitely Maybe", but this album is definitely not the pile of shite some people hoped it would be.

2)Michael Monroe-Sensory Overdrive
As a sensitive, tiny, small town metal head I gravitated towards the glam-flash and rockin' power pop'n'roll tunes of mighty Finnish band Hanoi Rocks. They were my favorite band for years and years, and I wore out the grooves on every album they ever made several times. When I started listening to Hanoi, I realized that Motley Crue and Ratt probably weren't as great as I initially thought, and started on the road to learning about punk rock and classic rebel rock'n'roll. I have Hanoi to thank for alot of the music I got into. They changed my life and opened up new worlds to me. They were a truly great, great band. The post-Hanoi bands and projects of many of it's members were not always so great. Andy McCoy in particular kind of became a terminal let down. Michael Monroe, the singer who unfortunately inspired both Vince Neil and Axl Rose, fared better. Most of Mike's albums and projects throughout the years, with the exception of the truly horrible Jerusalem Slim, have ranged from the pretty good to the truly great. His last perfect album was under the band moniker Demolition 23, way back in the 90s. Until now. Drafting the songwriting talents of Ginger Wildheart (of the Wildhearts, another highly influential but largely unsung band)was the first brilliant move on Monroe's part. Getting two fifths of the revamped New York Dolls in the band was the second (including Mike's old Hanoi Rocks bassist the effervescent Sami Yaffa, now in the modern version of the reformed Dolls). The live shows of this line up are already legendary, and the album is close to perfect. A roaring riff monster of a hard rock record,this thing channels the Stooges, Alice Cooper, AC/DC, The Wildhearts, Dead Boys,and the UK Subs in only the finest ways. It is high voltage riff-punk of the highest order. The one song that lets up the pummel-age is the country-rock tinged "Gone Baby Gone" which, while not a bad song at all, sort of unwittingly rips off the Eagles rather than paying tribute to Gram Parsons,as any country rock tune should. The lyrical content of alot of these songs seems to deal with being an older rocker in a young hipster's world. Drug problems, aging, bad relationships,dead heroes, survival. It's pretty life affirming for an old rocker like me and likely an education for any young wannabe glam-punksters out there. An amazing return to form and a great rock album this is. "Chart the course we're on, flog that dying swan, aim that poison dart towards the center of your heart", indeed.

1)JD McPherson- "Signs And Signifiers"
I had no idea at all who this guy was six months ago, and now his new record is numero uno on my year end hit parade. JD is an Oklahoma born and based rockabilly cat best known for his previous band the Starkweather Boys. He hooked up with Chicago based rockabilly bassist Jimmy Sutton, who happened to own and run his own retro rockin' label, Hi Style Records. Add a few permutations of fate, some other rock'n'roll hoodoo and various jump blues calamities, and you have this album. It is a rocking, moody, fearsome, jumpin', jivin' and wailin' monster. The first thing that jumps out at you is this kid's voice, which sounds like it's coming out of a 300 pound black guy from the '40s, not a little white rockabilly geek. The second is the songwriting, which apes and reinvigorates 40s and 50s jump blues in a similar way to the way Eli Reed apes and reinvigorates 60s soul. You can sort of tell it's not the real thing if you have a trained ear, but even then, it really could be the good, old righteous stuff. Songs like the title track and " A Gentle Awakening" take JD's music out of the retro ghetto into something much more modern and relevant, while still retaining the vintage tone and feel. This guy would make an awesome duet partner for PJ Harvey, and I'd love to hear him tackle a Nick Cave song. Like pretty much all modern rockabilly cats, he cites punk rock as an early formative influence, as well as some English post punk. You can't hear this in his music, but you can feel it. I can't do justice to how great this record is in words, but maybe this'll help....

There you have my picks for the best of this past year. Anything else I need to check out?

You Too Can Have The Stamina Of The Cavemen!

2011-06-26T10:43:00.009-04:00

Here I am, updating this piece of duck vomit again, like, 6 months later. I suppose Google would send me a check every now and then if I turned the ads back on. They bugged me something right and proper.

As some of you may know, I cannot stop listening to music. I use it as a drug of sorts, influencing and reflecting moods and anxieties and as a general emotional barometer and stabilizer. I get bored very, very quickly, and as such, I listen to about a thousand different kinds of music. Well, essentially everything I listen to falls under the "rock and roll" banner, at least to me. But the variations are endless.

Although I am certainly known in most elite circles as a Rockabilly/Punk kind of guy, with certain Mod and power pop leanings, I must confess that I have long been into heavy metal. It was the first music I listened to back in my pre-teen and teen daze,in the ahem, 1980s, not to date myself, wink-wink-nudge-nudge. I have followed it with varying degrees of interest ever since. My lowest point of interest was the mid 90s "Nu Metal" phase of the genre, which was, as you know, ridiculous. I'm not even going to get into the jock haircuts, white person dreads and blow dried chest hair patches, let alone the turgid non-songs of this era. My interest in Metal was at an all time low in my 20s. While I was discovering rockabilly, 70s punk and new wave, power pop and post punk, the rest of the world was wearing red baseball caps backwards and rapping over poorly played Metallica riffs.

Within the past few years there has been a resurgence in interest, and an overall raising of the quality of, Heavy Metal music. As a result, lots of hipster kids and old jaded vets alike are jumping back on the metal bandwagon, myself included. My interest usually peaks in difficult times. For instance during a break up or a rough patch in a relationship. During a depression. When my job is killing me. When I'm broke. During a particularly vicious bout of gas. It dovetails with my interest in horror movies. In bad times, I need the escapism. I need the full body work out that the violence of the music serves up. I need the "I'm a bad ass Satan worshiping kind of fellow, indeed sir" chest puffing machismo. I also imagine that the music reminds me of the comfort and safety of my teen years, when I listened to almost exclusively metal.

Of course Heavy Metal as a genre is patently absurd. But that's the point. Metal is over the top. It is ridiculous. It is sometimes borderline retarded, if you'll forgive me the use of that word. The bottom line here is that metal helps us, it does not hurt us. And in this last year, the quality of Swedish Heavy Metal in particular has been astonishing. Below I'm going to thrust my gilded sword into a few new records that almost anyone can get into,even if you're not a metal maniac. If you are already a metal fan, you'll consider these classics in the coming years, mark my words and heed them well. Let's hold hands and discover, shall we?

GHOST- Opus Eponymous (Rise Above Records)
This is the year's big splash, the "it girl" of metal bands. Six anonymous Swedish musicians, faces hidden behind masks and hoods, got together and recorded one of the catchiest retro-70s pop metal records of all time. Is it even metal? There are some metal riffs, for sure. Is it pop? Well, it's catchy. Who are these guys? Members of Swedish bands Repugnant and In Solitude, if you're asking me to guess. In fact, the scary masked pope guy who sings is rumored to be extremely cute and snuggly Repugnant vocalist Tobias Forge, aka Mary Goore. That's kind of disappointing, as that kid is about as dangerous as a side of curly fries. Aside from his metal projects, he also has a Swedish "dream pop" solo project. Hence the super catchy and well written songs on this album, I would say. This is faux-Satanic Scooby Doo pop-black metal at it's finest. Really well played, catchy riffs married to lush pop harmonies and a super creepy, King Diamond influenced B-Movie horror atmosphere. It is really, really, really good. A work of actual genius I would say. I can't stop listening to it. (Note: above pic of Ghost Pope is by my pal Damian Saiz.)

GRAVEYARD-Hinsignen Blues (Nuclear Blast Records)
This record is so steeped in 1970s Sabbath/Blue Cheer/Mc5/Pentagram hairy white blues man sludge that it's hard to get into at first. On second or third listen, the songs start to peek out from under the greasy long locks of hair, and you're stunned at how good they are. A very, very retro affair, not a note on this sounds as if it was recorded after 1973. And it's brilliant. The lyrics, the vocals, the guitars, all perfect. The album title refers to Hinsingen, Sweden, which is apparently Sweden's version of Detroit. That is to say, a burned out once-proud factory town that is as depressed and decaying as our own American Motor City. Hence the darkness and hazy half drunk/stoned desperation of this record. "Got no friends/ Only people that I know" sings vocalist Joakim Nillson (who should pick up a stage name, like Hairy Stardumpster, or something similar)on the opening track "Ain't Fit To Live Here", while the band clatters around him like tupperware dishes thrown by the Mc5. This record sold 1,000 copies in the US the week of it's release. Not one to follow trends am I, but I find myself listening to this record quite alot these days.

IN SOLITUDE- The World. The Flesh. The Devil. (Metal Blade Records)
I am an unabashed fan of early Iron Maiden and Mercyful Fate, two bands whose shrieking vocalists, acrobatic dual guitar noises and schlocky satanic imagery has long inspired the imaginations of pimply teenage boys the world over. When I heard this record by Sweden's In Solitude, I was instantly transported back to my teenage, metal loving, trying to grow a mustache but failing miserably days of olde. Except these young Swedes actually write better songs. It's like King Diamond without the annoying falsetto vocals, and like Maiden without the annoying history buff, check your thesaurus lyrics. The overwhelming vibe here is creepiness, Satan, fog drenched moors, magic, human sacrifice, evil old black castles in the rain, leering demons and most of all, solid catchy metal riffs and melodies. The singer is only 20 years old as I write this, but it's his rich, gimmick-free vocal delivery that makes this record, along with the perfect Maiden/Fate style dual guitar riffing of the guitarists. It is rumoured that some of the guys in this band are also in masked mystery band GHOST, and it would not surprise me. The guitar styles are very, very similar. Both bands pay homage to Mercyful Fate quite impressively, but even the writing style seems similar enough that it could be true. A great record with great songs. A metal band so good that non metal people might actually take notice.

ELECTRIC WIZARD- Black Masses (Rise Above Records)
The only non Swedish band on my little metal hit parade. These long running Brits are a Doom/Stoner/Sludge Metal institution, and this record, which is their lucky seventh full length release, boils the whole doom rock mess down to a finely crafted selection of real songs. It's definitely not pop, but it is catchy. Black Sabbath is (obviously) the reference point here, the only reference point really. If you doubt this, know that lead singer/guitarist Justin Osbourne (yes, really) actually cut the tips of his fingers off a few years back ala Tony Iommi. It was "an accident". Justin has "fully recovered". The over the top Sab worship doesn't stop there. In fact the only goal here seems to be to out Sabbath Sabbath, and they do, on several occasions. The thudding, lumbering, cumbersome beat is like zombie dinosaurs dancing in a graveyard, if you can dig that, and Jus Osbourne's vocals are very much like another person whose name also happens, by "accident", to be Osbourne. Downtuned, fuzz toned, funeral dirge guitars emit noxious clouds of death-funk while the lyrics spin their B-Movie horror tales of Satan, monsters, drugs and decadence. In short, quite a good little record. In my humble opinion this is their best record, along with "Witchcult Today". It's their most focused release(which is saying alot for a stoner band)to date, and it doesn't meander and wander as much as previous records tended to. Here we have a stoner band whose ADD meds are doing wonders. Electric Wizard also features Metal's very own version of Lux And Ivy, cute married couple Jus Osbourne and his lovely wife, guitarist Liz Buckingham. They play matching Gibson SGs, they both love Sabbath and 70s horror flicks and weed, and they're married. Adorable! Buy this record if you like damp moldy graveyards, Anton LaVey, and Karen Black. Oh, and Black Sabbath.

So that's my Metal Hit Parade. I now have a playlist consisting of just these four records that I listen to on my iPod constantly. These last couple of weeks have been kinda tough on all fronts and if not for my Metal, I don't know what I would have done. Until next time, fiends!!!!!!

How to be a Well Dressed Man About Town

2010-12-28T13:14:00.012-05:00

OK, hipsters, listen. You're doing it all wrong. I understand that modern "hipster" fashion is a jumble of various subcultural styles worn either ironically or without knowledge of the origin of said styles. Hipster fashion rapes punk, skinhead, mod, hardcore, and uh, maybe like lumberjack fashions to gather it's instantly recognizable and somewhat gross visual impact. Most of you don't know why you're wearing these things, you're just trying to look hip and pick up the dumbest possible members of the opposite sex. The idea that clothes might mean something or represent a subculture isn't a widespread notion anymore, is it?

To understand Youth Subculture and what these things mean, younguns can refer to my earlier blog, "Youth Cult Apocalypse". That will explain the various subcultures and their divergent properties to you, if you need to know. For us oldsters though, especially those of us who are sort of clothes-junkies, these modern days are a quagmire of dilemma-goo. Should we wear the clothes we've always loved, and have grown up wearing, at the risk of being misidentified as a hipster? Or should we start shopping at Wal Mart just to shake off the notion?

Hey. Calm down. Let me gently stroke your knee in a completely platonic and non creepy gesture of comfort, and whisper some options in your ear.

Here's how to be a Well Dressed Man about Town, or a WDMAT, as I like to say, without ever setting foot in an Urban Outfitters or looking too much like a V-Neck and Skinny Jean wearing hipster. The beards are coming off and the plugs are out!

ALPHA NB3 PARKA:

For the cold weather, this baby cannot be beaten for style, functionality and subcultural relevance. The Parka came to subcultural prominence in the early 60s in the UK, as worn by the glorious first and second wave Mods. The original Mod Parka was a left over WW2 US Army coat, which were easy to come by in second hand shops in the 60s, mainly because American servicemen in England during the second world war seemed to have left them behind in droves. The coat was at first a cheap way to protect the Mods' expensive tailored suits while they rode their scooters through the blustery London streets. Over time it became a fetish item, a totem of what Mod represented. This can be summed up in the catchphrase, "clean living in difficult circumstances".

While original WW2 Parkas and replicas thereof can be found online and in secondhand shops (and pricey boutiques) to this day, they are usually prohibitively expensive and aren't as warm and wonderful as they look. Alpha has solved this problem for us Mod wannabes by updating the Parka, infusing it with newer US Army technology and marrying the Parka to an old Skinhead staple, the USAF Flight jacket. The Alpha NB3 is made of the sturdy nylon based material you'd find in in their fine Alpha flight jackets,cut into a shape that resembles, but is a little shorter than, the original WW2 coats. It's a great way to look cool, represent an updated version of Mod and Skinhead styles, and stay warm. They do run rather large, so if you want a tight fit, get a size or two below your regular. I'm a petite little curmudgeon, so I had to resort to buying a Large children's parka to get the fit I was looking for. I tried several adult sizes, and they were all just too bulky and awkward.

THE WARRIOR HARRINGTON JACKET:

The Harrington Jacket, made by Barracuta, and later Ben Sherman, Fred Perry, and a host of others, was a staple of skinhead, suedehead and mod worlds, and was even worn in the 1960s by such all around cultural heroes as Steve McQueen and Elvis Presley. It's a medium to light weight men's jacket with a distinctive two button collar, a semi detached back flap and and an inner lining of tartan. I have a more modern slimfit Ben Sherman version, but my newest acquisition is by a great newer UK company called Warrior. They make a mind boggling variety of Mod and Skinhead style clothing, at low prices that a working class "bloke" can actually afford. The Warrior Harrington is cut a little boxy and can run large, but a couple of washings will bring this great jacket down in size a bit. My favorite bit is the tartan lining. It has a Lurex stripe in it, exactly like those iconic old Barracuta Harringtons of the 1960s. Let the hipsters ironically sport hideous '80s Members Only jackets(originally worn exclusively by Phil Collins fans),the true WDMAT will stick to the sharp skinhead look of the Harrington. Yeah?

BEN SHERMAN CHECK BUTTONDOWN:

Ben Sherman was originally a working class clothing company that made great shirts at fair prices in the UK. Mods and Skins picked up on their sharp designs. Over the years though, the label has come under the fire of criticism for losing touch with its Brit working class roots. Their products have become quite pricey,they are now made in China, and at times the designs have tried too hard to keep up with the times. Often the company has committed cultural blasphemy by changing traditional designs to reflect fleeting modern trends. While this is the case, Ben Sherman still offers their traditional, iconic designs, like the shirt pictured here. This is a staple of any WDMAT's wardrobe. The shirt has a high, buttowndown collar, a triangle cut out on each sleeve, and the traditional button right above said triangle. Under no circumstances should you ever unbutton the collar of a Ben Sherman. Other companies, such as the aforementioned Warrior, Fred Perry, Brutus, etc make a version of this shirt and all of those are quite stylish, but it's the Ben Sherman which remains the icon. Whether you approve of their prices, marketing and policies or not.

THE PENGUIN POLO:

Polo shirts are comfortable, stylish and affordable. The Fred Perry polo is the classic Mod/Skinhead icon, and the Ben Sherman "Romford" is great, as are the Warrior and England Belongs versions, among others. My new favorite, however is the Penguin Classic Polo. This is a 1960s design, more or less unchanged. The Rat Pack wore these, JFK reportedly had one, and Mods and Skins have revered them as a lower cost Fred Perry alternative for years as well. If you get a chance, stop into the Penguin store in NYCs Soho district, it's a much friendlier and laid back store than, say, the snotty Fred Perry store nearby.

Now onto the lower portion of your stinking carcasses...

LEVIS 501 SHRINK TO FIT JEANS:

Skinny jeans are all the rage these days, and I like them alright. The key to not looking like a spindly legged hipster is buying a pair of Levis Skinny 511s two larger than what you'd normally wear. You get the slim look without the hideous shrinkwrapped panty hose feel. While those will certainly do in a pinch, the original skinny jean from the 1960s is still available and still awesome. The Levis 501 Shrink to Fit. They really do shrink to fit, kids. If you want them very, very, very tight, buy your normal waist size. But be warned, these jeans are not the flimsy, soft denim of current Levis designs. They are thick and stiff, and they will hurt you quite badly if used incorrectly. Not for those with sensitive waists and crotches, if you're pickin' up what I'm layin' down over here. The secret to success with these classic American jeans (worn by Rockabillies, Cowboys, Mods, skinheads, Punks and everyone else in the 50s, 60s, 70s and 80s) is to buy a pair exactly two sizes larger than your normal waist and inseam measurements. This is a good rule of thumb with all slim fit Levis (with the exception of 514s, which are baggier and larger than they seem), but absolutely essential with the Shrink To Fits. They do exactly what the name would suggest. Remeber the classic scene in Quadrophenia, with Jimmy traipsing around his parents living room in wet jeans, explaining that they'd dry tighter this way? Of course you do. Of course you do. For rockabillies, a thick turn-up at the cuff is the way to go. For Mods or Skins, a small one inch turn up, sewn in or ironed, is the ticket. I'm a little bit on both sides of the fence so I have various jeans cuffed in various ways. Don't be afraid to put your own spin on it. Never be a slave to a uniform.

DOC MARTENS HARPER CHELSEA 1460 BOOT:

Doc Martens have long been an essential part of the wardrobe of any punk, goth, skin, mod, grunge person, whatever. They remain durable, fashionable and timeless.
This particular boot is a new slant on the iconic 1460 that old school skinheads would never have guessed at. Take the Doc combat boot that skins love, and cross breed it with the classic Chelsea boot worn by mods, rockers, Beatles, and everybody else in the 60s, and you have the Harper. Basically it's a much more comfortable combat boot, with an elastic square at the ankle, taken from the Chelsea design. I have a pair of these in cherry red, and they are amazingly comfortable and look great. Like the Alpha NB3 parka, these are a smart update of a traditional style.

CLARK'S DESERT BOOTS:

A Mod classic. Worn by the Small Faces, The Jam, The Kinks and others, this is the ultimate dress or casual shoe. A simple leather upper on a crepe sole, this is another example of Mods adopting a military style to their own smart fashion. I am sad to say I've never owned a pair of these, but it's in the cards for sure. They are becoming quite popular these days, perhaps overly so, but that's just because they are stylish and durable.

Well, there you have it. There's your complete kit. Now you, too can be a Well Dressed Man About Town. Yes, even you.

Nick Cave Is A Horny Old Man

2010-10-18T10:30:00.005-04:00

There's a scene late in Nick Cave's latest book that interests me a bit. The book is "Death Of Bunny Monroe", and the story follows the exploits of traveling salesman Bunny, who is clearly a sex addict of the highest or lowest order, depending on your particular slant on the subject. Bunny is married with a small boy-child, and his wife kills herself after suffering years of Bunny's infidelity. Bunny takes this as his cue to fuck more sleazy women and drink massive amounts of alcohol while dragging his child along on a drunken, womanizing, traveling sales hellride. The other things I can understand, but the traveling sales? I shiver in revulsion. The book, as you can imagine, is pretty good. The writing style has simplified quite a bit since Nick's earlier book, "And The Ass Saw The Angel" but is no less realized. You feel bad for Buddy, a completely disgusting, pathetic and selfish character, who cannot stifle his lower impulses, even when the guilt and shame is killing him. He is dragged by his penis from sleazy whore to lonely housewife to furtive masturbation and back again, and his feverish inner monologue while this happens is pretty compelling. Not to mention gross.

There is, however, this scene at the end, where Buddy rapes a junky girl while she is nodding out, perhaps overdosed, because she looks exactly like one of his sexual obsessions, one Miss Avril Lavigne. Well, there's no accounting for taste. This scene is sordid and terrible. But it's so very Nick Cave it sort of sums up everything you need to know about the book and maybe the author.

Nick Cave has been exploring themes of degradation, drugs, lust, murder, Biblical doom and squalid darkness since he fronted Boys Next Door in the late 70s and the Birthday Party in the 80s. His solo career has followed the same shame-ridden path, albeit with frequent glimpses of gorgeous redemption in the form of songs like "Straight To You" from the "Henry's Dream" album and similar gospel tinged ballads that followed. That's just my perception, but I feel like Nick has allowed more positivity to creep into his music as he's aged. He's in his mid 50s now, and seems to want, for the most part, to age gracefully in the style of someone like Leonard Cohen or Lou Reed.

His latest project, a band called Grinderman, is an even more interesting chunk of meat. Their first album explored many of Nick's usual themes, and one song from it, like that scene at the end of "Death Of Bunny", sticks out for me. It's called "No Pussy Blues" and it seems to be the tale of an aging stud who, um, can't get any. The music is a grinding, thrusting blues-fuzz wall of noise. The repeated line "she just didn't want to" is both hilarious and telling. And I must quote:

I changed the sheets on my bed
I combed the hairs across my head
I sucked in my gut and still she said
That she just didn't want to
I thought I'd try another tact
I drank a litre of Cognac
I threw her down upon her back
But she just laughed and said she just didn't want to

Perhaps Nick's most frightening lyric ever. The song begins with the lines "My face is finished, my body's gone..." what a drag it is getting old. Now, I'm sure Nick Cave, a married man mind you, and a rock star, could certainly find some willing nubile that "wanted to". The fact that he's willing to write songs like this for the rest of us though, well, that's very nice of him. I haven't really ever had any problem getting female attention, my ego insists I tell you. However as someone who is pushing forty (pushing VERY hard)I can relate to the disintegration of one's face and body. And my back always hurts. Always. And the bunions! Nevermind me though.

Nick had this to say about the song: "As our dreams and desires are hung on the butcher's hook of rampant consumerism, and the mirage and the illusion and the Nike trainers are served up on the trembling quim of an impossibly nubile girl-thing, No Pussy Blues tells it like it is. It is the child standing goggle-eyed at the cake shop window, as the shop-owner, in his plastic sleeves, barricades the door and turns the sign to "CLOSED". It is the howl in the dark of the Everyman."

Anyone who can use "quim" correctly in a sentence is cool beans with this rodeo clown. And that quote could also be used to describe "The Death Of Bunny Monroe" in it's entirety. So it ties together, does it not.? Consumerism, aging, sex, impulse,trembling quims. Now we get it.

Grinderman have a new album out, simply called Grinderman 2,and it is awesome. It's equal parts the Stooges, Howlin' Wolf and the Birthday Party, with some great raucous ugly guitar noise and the expected emotive gospel tinged ballad thrown in for good measure (pretty much every NC album since "The Good Son" has had one of these, and they usually end up being my favorite songs on the album because he doesn't seem to be playing a character in the lyrics. It seems to be the real Nick Cave singing, with the exception of the awesome "Nobody's Baby Now", which is another murder ballad). The lyrical voice is still there, and I for one am glad to hear the revival of Nick's hilarious yelps and howls, guttural sounds interjected into the noise that he hasn't really done much since the Birthday Party. I guess a good blues riff played on a fuzzed out bass guitar can bring out the inner Iggy in anyone.

"Mickey Mouse and the Goodbye Man" kicks of the record in a very Iggy/Morrison state of mind, with the aforementioned distorted bass snaking through a burnt out hallucination that may or may not be somewhat Biblical in undercurrent.

There's a vagueness to some of the lyrics, maybe an impressionism, that lets the listener throw their own subconscious garbage onto the meaning of the song. Like this snip from "When My Baby Comes":

Thank God we don't get all our hurts at once
That would be a really bad thing
When my baby comes
Thank God we don't get all our olds at one time
(Listen to me talking in my hospital gown!)
When my baby comes
Is there anyone out there wasted their lives?
On booze drugs husbands wives and making money?
When my baby comes

This might have a specific meaning to it's author but unless you're a 54 year old Australian alternative rock star (no, not Rick Springfield) you might have to think about that one for a minute. To me it's about aging, again, and the comfort of loved ones, or the lack of comfort of loved ones and the other things we devote our short lives to. To you, I dunno.

More straight forward, maybe, is "Worm Tamer", one of my faves:

You know they call my girl the worm tamer
She cracks lightning like a vipers' tongue
She leaves me every night and who could blame her
I guess that I've just loved you for too long

You know they call my baby the Mambo Rider
I cry storms of tears til the rising of the dawn
You know I'm only happy when I'm inside her
I guess that I've just loved you far too long

The longing, self deprecation and desperation here, as well as the putting on a pedestal of ones' loved one are intensely obvious. Whether he's talking about a lover or a god or an addiction, it's not so easy to tell. I hope it's all of those things. There's voodoo imagery and a semi-Bo Diddley beat and some irritating electronic noises and I like it quite a bit. Nick mumbles the lyrics like he's got a mouthful of brie cheese.

The record in it's entirety is full of blues references, musically and lyrically, and the electronic bleeps and static wails serve to modernize that timeless feel. It's blues as seen through Iggy and Morrison and Velvet Underground-colored glasses.

Well you have to be glad that people like Nick Cave still exist. That there is more out there than your Lady Ga-Ga and your Brendan Flowers or whatever's out there these days, I confess I don't really know. I've listened to nothing but the Jesus And Mary Chain for years, while poking myself in the balls with dirty forks. What I'm saying is, Nick Cave is cool. And he's old. And so am I. And probably, so are you. So put that in your iPod and listen to it all day.

I Still Believe In Glenn Danzig (Or: Why I Hate Tall People)

2010-07-23T10:41:00.005-04:00

Me? I'm a short, neurotic, bristly mess of angsty bad breath. I'm full of insecurities and contradictions and confusion, and I don't really have any problem admitting this. You're all just like me, you just hide it better. I try to be a good person, try to grit my teeth and hold back the puke of dysfunction (even when the old cheeks are bulging like Dizzy Gillespie's with it) and get in the ring and duke it out like everyone else on this planet does. Not that I want a medal or an ice cream pop or anything. Oh, and I am also short. Bear with me here, I'm making a point.

Perhaps I should be going out of my way to overcompensate for these things. I would, I really would. But I'm also incredibly lazy.

Not so lazy was a teenage New Jersey music fan named Glenn Anzalone. He was short, yes. He was full of insecurities and neuroses, and he read way too many comic books. But this was the mid 1970s, and people were re-inventing themselves all over the map. A pimply, gangly British youth with a mouth full of painfully inappropriate teeth and a bad home life could rename himself Sid Vicious and become sort of a cross between a lobotomized Lou Reed and a taller Johnny Thunders. Problems solved! This was the majesty of Punk Rock!

So Glenn, not being lazy, and looking to improve his lot in life, changed his name and formed a Punk Rock band. perhaps the greatest punk rock band of all time, the Misfits. They were no Jem and the Holograms, but they were pretty rockin'.

He began working out in his mothers' basement, to carve his scrawny body into a sinewy block of muscle like the characters in the Basil Gogos and Frank Franzetta artwork he admired. He opened his mouth to howl, and learned he could really sing. REALLY. His voice had the sensuous croon of Elvis, smushed together like peanut butter and chocolate with the dark mumble of Jim Morrison. There was no voice like it in Punk Rock. Never would be. He changed his last name to DANZIG, after, quite unfortunately, a Nazi death camp in Poland. Look it up.

He then realized that all those nights not getting laid would pay off handsomely. He spent alot of his spare time reading comics, watching horror movies, reading books, and listening to all kinds of rock and roll. From Sabbath to the Doors and Elvis to Punk Rock and forgotten rockabilly and blues. Because of this self education, young Glenn found he could WRITE. Gorgeous, hooky melodies balanced firmly on top of sledgehammer punk rock chording, with some of the best and funniest lyrics in Punk, if not Rock itself.

He wrote of brain eaters, he wrote of astro zombies, he wrote genius lines like; "This ain't no love -in, this ain't no happenin', this ain't no feeling in my arms" to illustrate the similarity of hippies to the walking dead. It was brilliant and hilarious, and often completely obscene ("Last Caress", anyone?).

The Misfits donned a "Famous Monsters" and Kiss inspired array of black studded battle gear, and grew their hair into crazy reverse Elvis constructions known as "devil locks". They had quite a schtick going, as you may be aware. They toured, they put out their own records, they got big in the hardcore scene, then they broke up.

They would become massive, but not until long after their break up, when a thrash band called Metallica got big by wearing their T shirts and covering their songs. By this time, Glenn had already moved on into darker realms, with a band called Samhain, who veered slightly into metal and Goth territory.

When Samhain ran it's course, Glenn formed (with the help of Def Jam records impressario Rick Rubin) another band, simply called Danzig. This band would take the cartoon ghoulishness of the Misfits and the dark occultism of Samhain, and marry it to the bluesy chords of classic rock and proto-metal via Led Zep, the Doors, and Sabbath. This was awesome, for awhile.

Glenn Danzig, the pimply, shy young man from Lodi NJ, had become something quite different while trying to overcompensate drastically for his insecurities and shortcomings. No pun. He was still short, but he had become a tiny brick of overdeveloped muscle. He was still insecure, but he had become and expert on occult practices. He was still shy, but he had thrown up a huge wall of anger and uncompromising, strutting attitude.

Danzig made four classic, pummeling albums full of twisted pinch harmonics, Sabbath like dirges, Morrison like odes to depression and darkness, Elvis and Orbison '50s style ballads,and dark, dark, deep in the woods Howlin' Wolf blues. Glenn's trademark sing along "Whoa-Ohs" have been present in all of his bands'songs, but in Danzig they were used to their greatest possible power. Those first four albums stand up as some of the best music of the 90s, if not the rock era.

He wrote songs for Orbison and Cash, he formed his own comics company, he even made a couple of albums of dark classical music that are impossible to sing along or dance to, even if you try hard.

When hard rock sort of died out in the mid 90s, punk was firmly mainstream (for the most part) and the Misfits were mostly remembered for their T Shirts, Danzig started to falter. He developed an obsession with Trent Reznor style industrial music, which led to the creation of several albums that say Danzig on the cover but don't sound much like Danzig. There were good songs on all of these records, but the squealing guitars of John Christ, the barely audible but thudding bass of Eerie Von and the powerful slap of Chuck Biscuits' drums were long gone, as were those people themselves. Glenn's mournful wail was often buried under alot of electronic buzzing and beeping, sounding more like a tinny Danzig cell phone ring tone than one of the greatest rock bands ever. The songs could still creep you out, but they weren't going to rock you, not in the same way.

This is where alot of people gave up on Glenn Danzig. Sadly, I have to say I was one of them. The Misfits were back by this point, but with another singer who wasn't but a shadow of Glenn Danzig. He sort of seemed like something Glenn might have accidentally vomited, then left in a rest stop toilet. Their new songs were Ok, but largely silly, and they went about trashing the Misfits legacy for cash while Danzig watched, unamused, from the sidelines.

We've all seen the video of Glenn getting knocked cold by one punch backstage at some show somewhere. Alot of people laughed at that, because Glenn's image had always been toughest of the tough, blackest of the black. His "huge ego" was discussed often, and seeing the mighty GD felled by such a cheap shot seemed, to some, like justice. Alot of Youtube videos and comic books have made fun of Glenn Danzig, and some of it is pretty funny. But me, I just wanted the guy to make another great record.

What Glenn needed to do was silence the naysayers with a rock record so dark and heavy that one could only marvel and scratch ones' privates. He needed to return to that witchy, dark, alluring, bluesy style of old. He needed to return to the "Whoa-Oh's" and other such brutal sing alongs. He needed to get Eerie and John and Chuck back. He needed some pinch harmonics.

Well, it's 2010, and he's done it. OK, not all of that, but SOME. "Blood Red Sabaoth"
is Glenn Danzig's '68 Comeback Special. This is where the master returns to the stage and effortlessly proves he can still rock like the very devil himself, when his hearts' in it. Where he brushes aside pretenders to the throne like flies from his countenance. AFI and Tiger Army are slinking back to their condos in shame, as we speak.

While there is no John Christ here, there is a guitarist who knows how to do JCs schtick and add a little triple rectified muscle to it. Glenn played bass himself, like he probably did on alot of the Samhain records as well. The drums do not have the immediately identifiable Chuck Biscuits style, but serve the songs unobtrusively.

And what songs, bitches! It's like someone forced Glenn to listen to "Danzig 1 through 4" on repeat at gunpoint, then shoved a black Les Paul into his hand and told him to get on with the Lord's work.

"On A Wicked Night" is Led Zep meets Anton LaVey on steroids and muscle milk. "Hammer Of The Gods" is a slamming, pummeling chug along riff demon, squirming into your beating heart with razor sharp tentacles of, you know, like pain. "JuJu Bone" revisits the old backwoods, crossroads, devil blues with a fresh dollop of crunchy guitar smackdown added for flavor. There are no Elvis meets Hammer Horror, "Blood And Tears"/ "Sistinas" style ballads, but I'm hoping he'll bust one of those out on the next record. Fans of classics like "Twist Of Cain", "When The Dying Calls", "Am I Demon?" "Devil's Plaything" and "Killer Wolf" will no doubt be thrilled to the stitches on their black leather undergarments by these new tunes.

I still believe in Glenn Danzig. Because I don't care about Youtube videos, I don't care about comics depicting Glenn gettin' intimate with Henry Rollins, I don't care about people getting fat and going bald and having big egos. I care about music. Deeply. It's basically all I have, good peoples. And Danzig is back to making good music. You best believe it.

The Unbearable Swankness Of Being Unbearably Swank

2010-07-01T13:07:00.008-04:00

So I haven't posted in awhile. I've been busy, but not busy enough to quiet the never ending voices of discontent in the old brain. It's true, I'm a man, and I cain't be satisfied, to paraphrase Dale Watson. I meant to spell it "Cain't". You just calm down, pal.

So a weekend trip to Austin, TX has informed my brain-thoughts recently. They have such a respect for country music there that the aforementioned Mr Watson (pictured) and other ridiculous talents like Junior Brown and Jesse Dayton can play five nights a week at various clubs and still expect a decent crowd each time they play. Of course, there are also thousands of other country artists struggling to eke out a meager living in Austin's busy hot spots. Popularity doesn't always equal talent, but in the case of Austin's most popular, it certainly seems like talent plus perseverance will get you a crowd anywhere you want to play on a Monday night.

Here in Boston, however, us Country type wanna bes have trouble even finding other musicians to play with. Oh, they're out there, but with day jobs, wives and girlfriends, and various stages of mental illness and depression, nobody's got time for shit. And of course, playing country covers on the shore is more lucrative financially than trying to form a tight band to play original(unproven)music.

But enough of my whining. DALE WATSON. This guy, he is amazing. He tosses out seemingly effortless country classics with every release, and he's been at it more or less non stop since the early 90s, despite a nervous breakdown, a divorce, and the death of a beloved girlfriend. Reportedly he did attempt to quit music in the mid 2000s, to move to Baltimore and drive a UPS truck. This didn't work out. High profile friends like Johnny Knoxville and Willie Nelson dragged him back to Austin (although I suppose there wasn't a whole lot of almost-persuasion needed)to keep the great man doing what he does best. Dale Watson as a singer-songwriter serves the world much better than Dale Watson as a husband, father and UPS driver ever would, one supposes.

Musically, he favors the 60s version of electrified country twang (Merle, Buck, Cash, more Merle), and lyrically, the man actually surpasses his idol Merle Haggard as a country Shakespeare writing almost-literary working class poems about whiskey, God, trucks, country music, jukeboxes, more whiskey, women and heartache. Basically, there's nothing else to write about.

If anyone ever has any doubt to whether the man lives the songs he writes, I can testify. When I saw him play, on a Monday night at the Continental on Austin's beautiful South Congress Ave., he lived up to all my expectations and more. Dale probably consumed three shots of whiskey and at least four beers within the span of the first seven songs. Still, his fingers never faltered on his battered Tomkins Telecaster copy, and if anything,his jokes got funnier. Of course, I was drinkin' too. However I can tell you that there was something both joyful and sad about the man in person. The music was miraculous. The band, which included Dale on vocals and guitar, as well as a drummer, an upright bassist, a fiddle player, a steel player, and a trumpet player (I think that's what it was), was tight and as effortlessly well rehearsed as only a band that plays five nights a week can be. This was Texas honky tonk music in all it's tears in yer beer glory.

As I've been a fan of the man's records for years, I've grown accustomed to seeing him in my head as he appears in his promo pictures and on his CD covers. There, he looks like a young Merle Haggard with just a little bit less resigned world-weariness and a little more rockabilly menace. In person however, his gray-white pompadour, grinning slouch and cuffed rockabilly jeans convey more of a Marlon Brando circa "The Wild Ones" vibe, albeit a bit more aged, drunk, and dissolute. In short, the man looks like what he is: the epitome of the honky tonk singer. Not as they've ever existed in real life, but as you picture them in your head, if you romanticize such things, and I sure do.

Another difference between country music in Boston and Austin: People actuallydance. In front of the stage, the floor was crowded with twirling Texas two steppers, as much a part of the show as the band and songs themselves. Here in Boston, even if it's a great show and people are enjoying it, you'll see a lot of folded arms and nodding heads in front of the stage, a few feet back, so as not to appear too eager.

While in Austin I also got to see an artist that I have seen a couple times in Boston, the inimitable Junior Brown. Here's another guy who's been on the alt-country scene forever and a day. Every time I've seen him, he's been confoundingly brilliant, but here in Austin in front of a hometown crowd, he was positively transcendent. The addition of his wife on acoustic rhythm guitar and harmony vocals (ala Johnny and June or Merle/Buck and Bonnie)gave the show some cute down home feeling that was absent from the Boston shows I've seen him play.

His ability to whip out pretty much any country classic one would require on cue certainly hasn't faded since I saw him last. His knack for blending virtuso playing with punk rock abandon all the while channeling the ghosts of Chet Atkins and Jimi Hendrix hasn't let up much either. His earnest, Ernest Tubb like baritone still carries the show, while his violent outbursts of guitar and steel guitar still amaze and delight. But this was Austin not Boston and there was something special about this night for me, even if it was just another evening in a honky tonk and a paycheck for him.

There's no one like Junior Brown in Country music, rockabilly or rock and roll. the fact that this man isn't a household name is a sign of the shameful times we live in where video games have come to mean more to people than music. Skinny jean hipster indie rock could never, ever carry the emotional weight that this 50 something man effortlessly carries on his black suited shoulder. This cat has more heart felt energy per song than a room full of Brooklyn based indie rockers could muster in their entire careers.

Anyway, vacations end, and I returned to the grind of work and of Boston itself. What a segue.Anyhoo, this is where I sought comfort.

It's been out awhile, but being prohibitively priced, I didn't get around to grabbing a copy till recently. I also kinda figured that being the rockabilly nerd that I am, I'd heard most of these songs. Not so. Even the songs I have heard time and time again gained quite a bit from the addition of the 50s JD exploitation movie ads that are peppered throughout the track listing, and the company of all the other amazing rockabilly obscurities.

Throwing this stuff in my iPod was something like getting sprayed with cold water on a sweltering day. All the weepy, fatalistic country music I had been listening to was washed away in favor of the razor sharp guitars and echo-laden good time lyrics of 50s rockabilly. By injecting the blues and RnB into the earthy working class twang of country music, all of the famous and unsung artists that grace this 4 CD compilation changed popular music, social reality, race relations, and the very fabric of the world we live in. They did this just by greasing their hair, turning up loud, and playing chords they learned on the wrong side of the honky tonk tracks.

It's some of the most fun, funny and life affirming music ever etched onto wax. Songs like the effervescent "Love Bug Crawl" by Jimmy Edwards and "Suzi Q" by Dale Hawkins cannot possibly fail to make your worldview a bit brighter, at least for three minutes while the song plays.

Some of these artists went on to worldwide fame (Elvis, Jerry Lee, Carl, Orbison) and some went back to the farms and factories, having had their fun. Doesn't matter. Every song on here is a winner, and whether the performer ended up in the main house or the poor house, what was left behind is what matters. The songs. The energy. The melding of black and white music, the melding of cultures and the rejection of musical and cultural divisions.

And never mind all that, even. The music rocked.

Sometimes I wonder why I, and so many others, reject the "new", "now" sounds that assault our lives on a daily basis in favor of the old forgotten relics of the past. Sure, it's just personal taste, but it's more than that. Early American morality was restrictive and stifling. Every aspect of human nature that wasn't so next to Godliness was rejected as outright evil, back in the day. Rock and roll and the melding of culture changed that. And that was good.

Now, however, 60 years on, the idea of right and wrong has mutated into pretty much an "anything goes" philosophy. Morality's rules have given way to an all out acceptance of almost anything. Maybe we've gone too far. Maybe having morals and standards isn't so bad, as long as we understand that not everything, not everyone, can be seen in such a black and white light. Maybe the great relaxation of strict morality that came with the advent of rock and roll was a good thing, but the great giving up of any kind of idea of right and wrong that has happened in the last forty years isn't so great. Maybe somewhere in between is where we want to be. Maybe I'm drunk.

Anyway that's my frickin' Blog. God I miss fanzines. Anyway, check out Dale Watson and Junior Brown on Youtube and via their records. Anyone in the Boston area that wants to play some house rockin' country music, let me know. I'm still out there in the wilderness lookin' for a toilet. Thank You and good afternoon.

Children By the Millions Weep For Alex Chilton

2010-03-18T12:46:00.009-04:00

People die. Those who have touched you in some way, those who you knew well, relatives and friends. I remember when Johnny Cash died. I wrote "CASH" on my knuckles in magic marker and went to work that way, and people thought I was insane. When Joe Strummer died, I called in sick to work because I knew I couldn't handle speaking to hundreds of people at my workplace who couldn't fathom why I was upset about some "80s rockstar" dying. Sharif still didn't like it.

Johnny Thunders, Richey Manic (?), Stiv Bators, Waylon Jennings, Porter Wagoner, Buck Owens, Joey and Johnny and Dee Dee Ramone, the list is probably longer. All of these artists have touched me deeply in my life, and the work they produced in their time on this god forsaken Japanese Standing Toilet of a planet has helped me to keep breathing for 39 years. Not just me. Alot of us.

Today I found out that Alex Chilton died. My wife can tell you that I actually cried. Then I forced her to go on iTunes and play "Ballad Of El Goodo", "Back Of a Car", "Hey Little Girl", "September Gurls", "O, Dana" and the Replacements' "Alex Chilton" over and over.

I'm not making this about me. I'm just showing you how much I actually care about the man I'm about to write about.

Alex Chilton. A genius. A punk. A sonofabitch. An icon. A loser. A legend.

This is a man who, at sixteen years old, had a nationwide number one hit that you'll still hear on Classic Rock stations to this day. "The Letter." He joined the Box Tops as a young Memphis teen obsessed with soul music. The group scored with "Cry Like A Baby" and "Soul Deep" before Alex was 18. He was singing then in an effected, gritty, gruff soul style that he pulled off well. But nobody knew his real voice until he joined a little Memphis pop rock combo that were eventually to be named Big Star.

The Box Tops with Alex on vocals at 17 years old:

While they were active and performing, nobody gave two shits about Big Star. They seemed, at the time, like a seventies radio-styled derivitive of the Beatles. Perhaps sub-Badfinger. Had anyone cared to listen to more than 30 seconds of any of their songs though, either penned by Alex or Chris Bell, they would have been overwhelmed with the singular, atmospheric, unique emotional pull of Chilton's riffs, harmonies, lyrics and vocals. Here was a true unique voice in the wilderness that nobody gave two fucks about hearing. As Mott the Hoople, another criminally ignored, genius band once sang, "We're not bleeding you, we're feeding you/But you're too fucking slow."

Big Stars' perfection would be vindicated by time, however. Every 90s pop punk and power pop band would loudly sing the praises, twenty years later, of those four forgotten records from the early 70s. The reputation grew long after the band was history. Teenage Fan Club, the Replacements, The Posies, The Pixies, Green Day, Jellyfish, REM, Nirvana, good ol' Cheap Trick, Elliot Smith, Material Issue, Wilco, Bright Eyes, etc etc on and on...the artists were fans even if the unwashed masses never knew.

And what was so great about Big Star? Everything. How can you explain the feeling you get when winter turns to spring and the breeze is blowing possibility at your face? How can you explain being in love? How can you describe teenage frustration that lasts long into adulthood and hope and fear and pain? How can you explain why you like rock and roll? Can't do it. So I can't explain how great Big Star were to you. You'll just have to listen. This song is my song that I dedicate to my wife. Only because she was born in September and I was born in December, and the song states that. This song means quite abit to me. Years before my wife, I longed to meet a September Gurl that fit this song. Finally, I got one.

I loved you, well, nevermind/I've been crying all the time/ December boy's got it bad....

After Big Star never sold any records and broke up in the mid 70s, Chilton embarked on a solo career, producing his own great stuff, and other bands. It seemed everything he touched was doomed to be under appreciated in its time, and considered a classic later on.

Here's something Chilton produced that some of you may be familiar with.

Chilton produced the Cramps (legends after their own time as well) and other groups while also recording his own solo genius with albums like the classic "Like Flies On Sherbert".

He was able to eke out a small living with his music for many years, before Big Stars' posthumous popularity exploded in the 1990s, via the many bands who had been influenced by them.

Here's one, a very important one. And hearing this song at 17 years old in 1988 was my first hearing of the name "Alex Chilton". Yes, it made me wonder who he was. Thank God I actually followed up and found out.

Although Chilton's Big Star co-writer Chris Bell had died much earlier in a Memphis drunk driving wreck, Alex was able to put together a new line up of Big Star featuring members of the Big Star worshipping band the Posies. Big Star kinda sorta reunited in the early-mid 90s and produced the amazingly Big Star-ish sounding "In Space". It was great. It didn't sell. Just want to reiterate. It was GREAT. Again, this song reminds me of my wife. And it probably reminds every brainy, rootsy power pop fop out there of any "too much to handle" girl they were ever lucky enough to come across. God this song is painfully beautiful.

Then what? The embarrassingly shitty sit com "That 70s Show" adopted "In The Street" by Big Star as their theme song, albeit covered and given a sort of clumsy Nuge-metal treatment by longtime Big Star buds Cheap Trick, with heavily altered lyrics and a ham fisted 90s metal production that kinda grosses me out everytime I hear it. Ok not kinda. Totally grosses me out. This brought Chilton a blessed paycheck however, so thank god.

Here's the real deal playing the real song on the Tonight Show (look how Alex tries to sell it, confused that his 30 year old throwaway song now means something to somebody):

So the reunion was an on again off again success, and Alex also spent a bit of time participating in a reunion of his even older band, The Box Tops.

2009 (note Alex's hilararious into of this song) :

The fact is, Alex struggled from the late 60s until 2010 to get the genius of his music across in a world that doesn't like genius, or feeling, or anything thats real. And maybe he didn't get the big paychecks he deserved. No, he definitely didn't get those. But he left his mark on this world. And on me. And probably, whether you know it or not, on you.

He died in a New Orleans hospital room on March 17th, 2010. On the Eve of yet another sell out Big Star reunion tour. That voice is silent now, forever. That guitar sound is only an echo. That songwriting id is only available via reissues. Alex Chilton is gone. And a bigger star than ever.

Alex Chilton was beset by demons his entire life. Demons I know well. Depression, anxiety, chemical dependence. Love lost and found and lost and found and lost. You can hear it in the songs. And the songs of every skinny sensitive white boy from a small town in America who longed to be a bad ass ever and anon.

My fave Big Star song:

RED STATE BOOGIE: Country Music And America

2010-02-09T14:01:00.010-05:00

RED STATES. We all know that they’re full of ignorant hicks, yeah? Gun toting, beer swilling, “God, Guts and Guns” poor white trash and fat women with beehive hairdos. Yes, it’s all true.

COUNTRY MUSIC. We all know that this is the sound of the great unwashed of America. The soundtrack to the lives of Wal-Mart shopping, cut off T shirt wearing, God fearing, “Honk If You Farted” T Shirt wearing, Kenny Chesney CD buying, ignorant blindly patriotic idiots. Also somewhat true.

Like any other, however, this stereotype leaves you wanting. The Civil Rights movement was born in the South. Stax Records, sweet soul music, white kids and black kids stomping down literal and idealistic barriers to dance together to Little Richard in the 1950s. It all happened in the red states.

Did you know that white honky tonk king and country music pioneer Porter Wagoner was the first person to bring black music (James Brown) to the Grand Ole Opry, long (since 1925) a last bastion of white redneck good ol’ boy culture? Did you know this happened in the early 1960s?

Did you know that Ernest Tubb, basically the father of modern country music, used to give homeless people (then simply known as “bums”), whether they were black, white, or swollen and purple, charge accounts at the restaurants of their choice so that they could eat between shots of bathtub gin?

Did you know that Elvis Presley grew up in what we would today refer to as the “projects”, living amongst blacks and whites who mostly had no sense of separation?

What IS this? Socialism? White folks reaching out to black, rich folks reaching out to poor? In the Red States? In the 1940s and 50s and 60s, supposedly a time of racism, the KKK, and segregation?

The fact is, country music, now all about money and Wal-Mart, used to be the most soulful, caring and uniting music that white people had to offer. It wasn’t a sad, whitebread, money grubbing, watered down, muscle flexing, professional wrestling endorsing piece of hilarious Jerry Springer crap like you may have noticed that it is today.

It is erroneous, some might say, to romanticize America’s past. We look back fondly on the supposed simplicity of 1950s living, yet caution the nostalgic to remember that we have it so much better today. Race lines have broken down (have they?), our governments are so much more honest and direct now (really?) and technology has made all of our lives easier (has it?).

Truthfully, of course, this is all bullshit. Race lines were broken down by music and working class culture long before it became taboo to say “nigger”. Governments and legislation only reflected what the most intelligent and caring people on the street were already doing and feeling.

And lest we forget, yes I know America was stolen from Native Americans. We think of them, condescendingly, as Noble Savages. Of course, history tells us that these people waged cruel wars on each other and killed each other quite often before we ever got here. We also know that Native American scouts frequently worked with our cow-hustlin’ ancestors to aid the killing and swindling of their own people. This is not to say that we were right or that they deserved what we did to them. Not at all. I’m just illustrating how the picture is never black and white. Nobody is innocent.

But back to Country Music and America.

I need to tell you that without the blues, there would be no country music. Elvis, Hank Williams, Carl Perkins. They all spoke of how hearing honest to goodness working class black people sing the blues made them want to sing it too. That is racial harmony and that is your great American melting pot right there.

I need to tell you that I actually love America, I love this country. I do not like its' government. I detest its' foreign policy and it’s war on the poor. I hate the bloody exploitation of Native Americans and African Americans that we built this country on. I hate how big money and corporate control rages unabated and few people here seem to care that they’re being lied to.

What I love is it’s art and it’s culture and it’s geography and it’s class struggle. I love the people and what they’ve given to the world despite their governments’ greedy policing of said world. I love it’s roots in England, in Africa, in Mexico. We should and could be the best of all these cultures.

It’s not cool to say that anymore. I know a lot of liberal hipsters who like to say how much they hate this country, because of it’s many faults. How they’d like to move to another country where things are better, and it’s all because of those goddamn ignorant hick red state people. Apparently there are no ignorant people in other countries, and no political problems in other countries. I’m no blind patriot, I recognize the problems. But this is where I was born. And there is still so much here.

Politics are worked out in offices and boardrooms. The real world happens in the factories, the supermarkets, and on the streets.

I’m a card carrying liberal. I vote Democrat every election, only because I know that Libertarians, who have the best ideas, will likely never win. Lesser of two evils, sure. Without the money for ad space to reach the masses, no third party will ever triumph in our lifetime.

America is a great and powerful beast, and in it’s sheer size and weight, it is sluggish and fat and slow to understand. The Media has it’s own agenda, and the working class, who have little time (because they’re working and raising families) to consider the intricacies of political wheeling and dealing, believe, naively, what they hear. Fear is the greatest motivator. Fear of other races, fear of immigrants, fear of homosexuals, fear of loss. This is why we have red states. Because the media have led those honest working class people to believe the very fabric of their lives is under attack by all of these things. It’s not because the people there are stupid, it’s not because they’re ignorant. It’s because they just don’t know.

In the sound of country music, we have the sound of America. You may notice in early country and bluegrass music, the similarity to European folk ballads and traditional Irish and English reels. You may notice the thunking rhythms that are the heart beat of African music. The steel guitar is a Hawaiian instrument that goes back ages. Asian cultures from thousands of years ago had similar instruments. African and European cultures stumbled upon early versions of the guitar at roughly the same time in history. The banjo, the sight of which sends most modern people into a panic of country music hatred, was first played and developed in Africa.

Flash forward to the here and now and I’d like to tell you about a man called Steve Earle. Steve was raised in the 50s and 60s as a lil’ tyke on Honky Tonk music, as he was born in the deep south. I don’t know if Steve ever bailed hay or drove cattle, but he certainly absorbed and worshiped hillbilly music from an early age. Steve grew up playing hillbilly rock n roll and country music, and did some jail time in his early 30s for some nasty business we can just overlook, cuz he’s a good boy, our Steve.

Steve Earle is pretty much a hick.

Steve Earle wrote these lyrics:

“Livin’ in a city of immigrants
I don’t need to go travelin’
Open my door and the world walks in
Livin’ in a city of immigrants

Livin’ in a city that never sleeps
My heart keepin’ time to a thousand beats
Singin’ in languages I don’t speak
Livin’ in a city of immigrants

City of black, city of white, city of light, city of innocents
City of sweat, city of tears, city of prayers, city of immigrants”

Which is pretty much some serious liberal shit. Steve Earle is a card carrying Democrat and a proud Southerner. A Red Stater. A man who also wrote this song about the reign of King George Bush the Second:

“North wind blowin’ like a hurricane house
Old man leanin’ like he’s pullin’ a plow
Neck bowed, bendin’ like a willow bough

Red sky color of the end of time
Bleeds dry runnin’ down the center line
Wise guy pretends he doesn’t see the signs

Bad news everybody talkin’ ‘bout
A short fuse a half an inch from burnin’ out
All used up beyond a reasonable doubt

Make way for his majesty the prodigal king
Still taste the poison when you’re kissin’ the ring
Don’t say he never gave you anything

Deep breath the calm before the storm begins
Cold sweat pretend that you ain’t listenin’
Don’t bet on gettin’ by with that again

Short ride from here to where the beast resides
Fine line that separates the shadows inside
Make mine a double shot of cyanide”

Lyrics like these certainly don’t warrant the “I’m With Stupid --> ” T shirt that most of our more liberal, intellectual folks would probably place on Steve Earle’s doughy middle aged torso, just by looking at his pork belly and his Grizzly Adams beard and cowboy boots and knowing he’s from the South.

What I’m trying to say here is that stereotypes are wrong, and Country Music isn’t racist and ignorant (although it is at times purposefully and gloriously ridiculous). It is, at it’s best, the heartbeat of the poor white man, living alongside the poor black man, working alongside the Mexican, Puerto Rican and Asian man, a mile away from the impoverished Native American Reservation. It’s the voice of the American working class, and it’s a symptom of the disease of America that you will no longer find real Country Music on the radio or your flat screen TV.

I’ve made Steve Earle an example, because I love his music, but there are certainly others. The Waco Brothers from Chicago. Robbie Fulks, Hank Williams the 3rd, Uncle Tupelo, Son Volt, even early Wilco. Dale Watson, Rosie Flores. Lucinda Williams. The classic pioneering Country Rock of Gram Parsons and Townes Van Zandt. Steve Earle’s 25 year old son Justin Townes Earle. This is soulful heart of America full of compassion and conscience.

So don’t count out those red states. We have allies there. And they are spreading the true spirit of American Music, one gig, one record, one fan at a time.

I leave you with more Steve Earle. This is one of my fave songs and shows a much younger and slimmer Stevie Earle. Please note my favorite line; "Everybody told me you can't get far/ on 37 dollars and a Jap guitar", and also note the GORGEOUS middle eight at 1:25. ENJOY.

Morrissey SWORDS...Drunken Review

2009-11-12T18:16:00.004-05:00

Morrissey! And his Sword! What needs to be said, really? This here is a B Sides record by a man who has never released a bad song. Like the Wildhearts, or to a lesser extent the Manic Street Preachers, Moz throws away songs that most bands would base entire careers around.

I have consumed a bit of red wine this evening while writing lyrics and attempting to play guitar. My wife is at work, and when she comes home, she will either A) drink more wine or B) berate me because I drank all the initial wine. I'll buy more wine before she comes home, and attempt to pass it off as the original wine (left over from last night), while also attempting to appear sober. Which will not fool her for a second. All of this (and nothing) will affect my review of the new Morrissey B Sides record, which I have been listening to non stop for a week now.

MORRISSEY! I love this sad old bastard forever. The Smiths, yes. His solo career, BIG yes. His last B sides collection, "My Early Burglary Years", released in the early 2000s (I Think), was flawless. This one, entitled "Swords", for some reason, is just as awesome.

18 tracks, some of which have been released before on albums, most of which were relegated to Euro-B sides and some such similar ghettos. Every song a goddamn winner.

Opening with the stormingly atmospheric non-clunker "Good Looking Man About Town", and never letting up from there, this disc is as solid and flowing as any recent Moz long player.

"Don't Make fun Of Daddy's Voice is a hard rocking guitar based tour de force. Other highlights being "Christian Dior", "Shame Is The Name" (featuring one of Moz's catchiest hooks in ages), "Teenage Dad On His Estate", and on and on.

Only Moz's (sort of half assed) cover of Bowies' classic Glitter era anthem "Drive In Saturday" could be construed as a near miss. One mediocre track out of 18 is hardly bad. Even on this tune, the band shines. The guitars are shimmering and ballsy and the rhythm section pumps out the Glitter style bump and grind like they're gonna party til it's 1974. Moz attemp;ts to breathe his own style into Bowies' trad melody. this is where the song fails. You can't really improve on the original. Sorry, Steven. Moz has had impeccable taste in covers previously. T. Rex's "Cosmic Dancer", The Jam's "That's Entertainment" and the NY Dolls "Trash" have all benefitted from the Moz treatment. Not so much this old Bowie chestnut. Go figure.

In closing, Moz the man and the artist certainly hasn't run out of vital sounds and lyrics to titilate and inspire. He really has not let up for a moment since the Smiths, and perhaps this is why he looks so constipated and grey on the discs' cover and rear tray photos. The lyrics enclosed in the Cd booklet are all great, but the interview section seems a bit useless. We've all read this stuff before, if we are the sort to be interested. And I am.

Recently, Moz has had some onstage troubles. Passing out and cancelling a show mid set seemed par for the course. Being hit in the head by a fan thrown bottle and storming offstage in a rage, just a few dates on the tour later, uh...seems also par for the course. I was present when he cancelled a Boston show less than halfway through his set, due to throat problems. I was also present at the rescheduled make up date, where he delivered one of the best shows I have ever seen in my life. So I certainly cannot complain, and neither should you. If you're a Moz fan, you know that the man is a bit fragile, but will deliver when the chips are really down.

Nevermind. This is a GREAT CD, and it stands alongside "Early Burglary Years" as some of my fave Moz stuff. This man's B Sides are better than most people's A Sides, and that's a fact.

Peace out, I'm drunk. P.S.- Moz, if you're redaing this, I miss Alain Whyte. Bring him back!

Hillbilly Heroes

2008-05-16T13:51:00.007-04:00

The older I get, the more I love country music. I was raised on it, in a very real way, by my father. He remembers listening to Hank Williams live on the radio when he was young. Live--on--the--radio. I cannot imagine a world in which the great Hank Williams is still alive, but I'd give anything for the chance to listen through my dads' ears, back in those 1940s nights where the kids would gather in front of the radio to listen to the Grand ole Opry.

My personal favorite country artist is the late, great Buck Owens. I love this man dearly. I grew up watching him on that corny old 70s TV show Hee Haw, but it wasn't until the past few years I developed a real love for his music.

Buck hails from Bakersfield, California, a town which in the 60s became known as Nashville West, because of the overwhelming success of the country artists that emerged curiously from that smallish California town.

A self made man in the best sense of the word, Buck grew up playing Bakersfield honky tonks like the Blackboard, a rough scene that involved gallons of beer and hundreds of drunk blue collar toughs trying to impress their women with two fisted antics.

The sound that Buck developed then was a hard country sound, which made use of the Fender telecaster twang of honky tonk and the solid back beat of rocknroll. By the early 60s Buck had honed this sound to deadly sharp perfection.

For a short time Buck employed the services of an unknown country singer named Merle Haggard to stand in on bass guitar. It was during this time that Merle named Buck's band...The Buckaroos.

The key to the Buckaroos sound was the matter of fact, unadorned vocal style of Buck, along with the eerily tight harmonies and death defying chicken pickin' of Don Rich (one of the finest guitar players of all time).

There were over 20 number one country hits in Bucks' glory days, including the effervescent rockabilly of "Tiger By The Tail", "Loves' Gonna Live Here", and "Act Naturally".

Even the Beatles were not immune to the energy and drive of the Buckaroos. The Fab Four covered Bucks' "Act Naturally", although their version was a bit tepid. There are thousands of miles between Liverpool and Bakersfield, apparently.

Bucks' lyrics told the true blue collar tale; love lost, love found, drinks drank, hardships endured, fun had. Buck himself was never a drinker and, unlike alot of hard country singers of his day, never did any jail time.

Bucks' original era of genius was brought to end by the untimely death of Don Rich in a motorcycle wreck. After this, Buck lethargically stumbled through his career for quite some time, filming the corny country comedy of the "Hee Haw" TV series and resting on laurels. Buck admits this was a time of intense depression for him, as he saw Don Rich as not only his best friend but the very key to his success. The entire decade of the 1970s were spent in this haze of depresion.

It wasn't until insurgent country star Dwight Yoakum brought Buck out of semi-retirement in the 80s that Buck started to feel alive again. The two duetted on Bucks' old hit "Streets Of Bakersfield", another number one charter. This brought about a resurgence of Buckmania in the country music, which by then had decomposed horribly into the gentrified watered down pop music form that it remains in to this day.

Buck died in 2006 in Bakersfield after playing a storming show at his night club The Crystal Palace. According to those present he put on a storming show, playing all the hits and taking requests. He died in his sleep later that evening.

The music of Buck and the Buckaroos provides me with the spring in my step I need to walk through this goddamn world. I'm always in love with a song, and Buck has written and sang many of the songs I love most.

Guitar Dummy Goes Ape!

2008-04-25T15:14:00.004-04:00

Hey, dummies! What up?

So, I traded my Hagstrom Swede for a Mosley "Pasadena" Tele. I dunno why, I just felt like it. Ended up getting acquainted with Mosley's sales rep, Jay. A nice guy.

Apparently, Mosley was an obscure brand name in the 60s. I cannot find any evidence of this on the web. No mention in any of the rare guitar books I have, either. None of my guitartard friends has heard of the name. According to Jay, though, and the Mosley website, it's true. I thought it might refer to MOSRITE, and Semie Mosley, the owner/designer of that legendary company, but Jay says no.

Mosley these days is a relic guitar company, that is providing relic'ed, original vintage style guitars at cheaper prices. Some very very nice guitars on their Website.

So of course, I was interested, and Jay was interested in getting his hands on my Hagstrom so they could relic the thing and sell it on eBay.

I'm not at all into relic guitars (you want me to pay MORE money for a guitar that's beat up???), so i was glad to see their Hot Rod Pasadena model.

Here's the axe:

Nice, no? Upon recieving the guitar, I noticed some stuff. First, the headstock says "USA Custom Shop", but it's obviously a Korean guitar. Jay confirmed this for me. Korean parts, anyway. Secondly, that the neck plate on the back of the guitar reads, "Number 100 of 76." Hmmm. Jay assures me that this is the "old school" way of doing things, and people of today just don't understand. Could be true, but I've never heard of that. In all fairness though, who knows, stupider things have happened.

I also noticed that they are selling a Strat copy, very nice one, that they are calling the Fullerton. However, the headstock of the guitar pictured actually reads, "FullertIon. Perhaps that's the old school way of spelling Fullerton, who am I to say?

So back to my swank Pasadena. It's got some other weird things going on. The headstock also says "Vintage '52 Series". Anyone who knows guitars , though, will see that this axe looks nothing at all like a '52 Tele. It's very, very nice, but sorry, nothing to do with '52. Jay says that the headstock refers to another model.

I asked jay if this was a B stock guitar, as there was a bit of scraped finish on the fretboard. Jay said not at all. On further inspection, I noticed alot more stuff:

A loose tone pot/knob, and a very acute and worsening grounding problem. I've had the guitar two days, and it's already giving me little shocks every time I touch it.

My final issue with the beast is the pickups. Mosley refers to this humbucker design as their own "exclusive" Quad blade humbucker. However, the much cheaper China-made Stadium brand has a Tele with EXACTLY the same set-up. Jay tells me the pickups are "basically" Seymour Duncan hot rails. I'm not a huge Seymour Duncan fan, but this pickup has no character whatsoever. I'm going to be switching it out,very soon, for a Guitar Fetish Nashville pickup.

And I'm going to take it to a Pro to get it done, so he can fix the grounding problem and loose knobs while he's at it.

Mosley is selling this guitar on their website with a case for $799., and without a case on eBay for $499. But my opinion is that it's actual selling price should be around $199. to $249. There are Squiers and Rondo SX's that are better than this.

It's big selling point is the way that it looks, because this is a very swank looking retro/modified style guitar. I'm going to fix it up and keep the sucker. Just replace the bad parts as they crumble beneath me.

I also reviwed this guitar on Harmony Central, but that was before the grounding problem got so bad and the knob started falling off.

I hate to say this stuff because sales rep Jay was so cool and nice to me, very friendly and helpful, but man, this guitar...let's just say I can work with it and make it into something decent.

Meanwhile Jay is going to take the Hagstrom I traded him, relic it, and probably make some big bucks off of it. Yeah, I kinda got ripped off, but...I knew better and went ahead and let it happen.

Still...damn guitar looks swank, doesn't she?

Stalking My Guitar Hero!

2008-04-25T14:15:00.006-04:00

So, there we were, Damian and I, going to see the Clash's Mick Jones and Generation X's Tony James play in a club the size of a tampon box. A club which I myself have played (sadly). I have also attempted to play inside actual tampon boxes. None of these things have won me the acclaim I so richly deserve.

Damian's car smelled like cat pee. So I felt right at home. I forgot the tickets and we had to go back to my house. Damian barely supressed his smoldering rage. I figured if I had to, I could take him. He eats alot of fast food, so he can't possibly be that healthy. I had been laying off the booze and giving myself leg and thigh massages and peptalks, so I thought this might be the time to go for it. Unfortunately, Damian did not attempt to strangle me. Not even the suggestion of homoerotic Greco Roman wrestling.

Finally we stood in line to enter the club with a few other sadly dejected dregs of humanity, all of whom were drooling and picking their noses. I decided at this point that I would get roaringly drunk, and attempt to hump Mick Jones' leg. This did not transpire, because Damian reminded me of how horrible I was at the Tyla show. Even I feel some small embarrassment when I misbehave to that degree. Also, an odd sense of pride. I don't get me.

Anyway opening band was godawful, I got drunk, then Mick and Tony's band, Carbon/Silicon, (a rather stupid name) came on. they were great. Much more live rocknroll than their album, which is great but can get a little studio-sterile sounding at times. The place was packed, everyone seemed to have a great time.

Then we got to meet them, yay! The only embarrassing thing I said to Mick was, "You're my Guitar Hero, heh heh, snort." he sort of rolled his eyes and smiled.

I slurred drunkenly to Tony James, something about his former sisters Of Mercy cohort Andrew Eldritch, and Tony seemed like he wanted to sprint as far away from me as he could. But he posed for this picture, where it looks like I am trying to finger his ass. Swear to god I wasn't. All pics by Damian, because my camera was dead.

So that was my encounter with Punk Rock Legend. You're next, Charlie Harper! Probably not.

Surgery for a Starlet

2008-04-18T01:43:00.008-04:00

Any guitarist worth the salt in his goddamn tears knows that guitars from the 50s are the most desirable. Unfortunately, classic guitars cost thousands of dollars for examples in poor condition. Old axes in prime condition will cost you more than you can imagine. The emotional and nostalgic value of a classic guitar is, like anything else, subject to the crassness of capitalism.

Alot of American companies now produce replicas of classic guitars in Korea and China, to cut costs. This was once thought to be a sign of poor quality, but experts these days are having a hard time telling the difference between the copies and the copied.

Companies like Eastwood, Dillion, Mosley and Waterstone are all producing affordable copies of classic instruments at high levels of quality. Some large companies are even copying themselves, as is the case with Gibson's Epiphone line and Gretsch's Electromatics.

The main thing I like about this however, is when small companies reproduce guitar classics at low prices. This allows a low rent schlub like moi to buy them and avoid paying huge corporations like Gibson thousands of dollars for their generic product.

Hence my sick hearts and flowers love-crush on the designs of one Mr John Dillion of Dillion guitars. He makes very high quality mid priced guitars that look like the classics of yesteryear, but with modern features and upgrades. He manufactures these guitars in Korea. Not in sweatshops, but in modern factories that are offering jobs to local peoples.

Perhaps my favorite guitar of all time is the 1950s style Les Paul Junior, originally by Gibson. Dillion makes a very high quality replica of the '58 Junior, and I was lucky enough to score one on eBay. I've had two Gibson LP Juniors, Three Epiphone LP Juniors, and several other copies. All were pretty good guitars except one horrible piece of TV Yellow crap by Hondo that I'd rather not talk about. But this Dillion is truly special. It's not perfect, but no guitar is. I love the hell out of this thing.

I like the lightness of the Junior (as well as it's cousins the Special and the Melody Maker), and the biting tone. Of course, the cool retro 50s look and Johnny Thunders connection doesn't hurt either. However, there is one problem here. I also have a huge fetish for the Bigsby vibrato. A device that, when bolted to your guitar, enables you to make cool snazzy rockabilly and surf sounds and look cool as hell doing it. That is not the technical explanation, but you're smellin' my guacamole, no? I basically don't want to play any guitars without a Bigsby, ever ever never ever. Get it?

The Bigsby comes stock on alot of Grestch and Gibson guitars, and you see 'em on Fender Telecasters sometimes, but seeing one on an Lp Junior is very rare indeed.

I looked on the web, though, and found this gorgeous original 1958 sex-beast:

And I decided I needed me one of those,right quick like. So I set about turning my new Dillion LP Junior replica, pictured below, into one.

First, I set the Bigsby on the guitar to determine string angle and placement. Then I used some meat string I stole from work to simulate the path of the string.

Then, I very carefully drilled the bastard a new one. Five new ones actually. Then I drove the screws in and voila! Bigsby goodness! You string it up (always a bitch) and it looka like dis:

And now the thing sounds like Brian Setzer playing Johnny Thunders' guitar. Hipsters, you need to know what I'm talkin' 'bout. This guitar makes you wanna take off your girl's jeans, shave your ironic beard, throw out your Mastodon CDs and be a real man!Like Eddie Cochran! Except not dead!

And it was easy, and only caused me a little bit of nausea. Which for me is a light afternoon.

I'll be talkin' guitars more on this here blog, so if you liked this, check back. If you didn't, go play Guitar Hero or something, you useless little chunk of My Chemical Romance fan!

HUWAH!

Youth Cult Apocalypse!

2008-04-16T15:04:00.015-04:00

Well, friends and hated enemies, it's One pm, I'm having my morning coffee, and cradling a Fender guitar in my lap. Looks like its time for an informative and helpful article by Chaz. Hold your nose and dive in.

Youth culture. Basically, in America that means juvenile delinquents, gangs and hip hop. It could also mean the math club, or a basement full of Harry Potter geeks, I dunno. You tell me. With our Bobby Soxers, Beatniks, Jazzbos, and later our Rockabillies, (and much later, our skaters, punks, etc) we in this country basically started the modern youth culture. For us, however, these lifestyles are often a simple symptom of teenage growing pains and the quest for an identity. We are expected to "grow out" of these "phases".

In the UK however, they took it to a much more violent, and interesting, extreme. People there, most often working class folk who are not career people, immerse themselves in subcultures at a young age, and never leave. They don't grow out of it. It is a lifestyle, and a way of life. It is not just simple dress up or indicative of the music one listens to. It is handed down from Father to son, Mother to Daughter. There is an intense sense of pride. Many people are aware of violent clashes between Brit youth groups...Mods Vs Rockers in the 60s, Teds Vs Punks in the 70s, Skins Vs Everybody, etc. This is the extent of British working class dedication to their subcultures, and also an indication of the extent of British working class boredom. these are not people who have a lot of opportunities in life. the Brit class system is still very much alive, and in times of economic recession especially, these people are on the low end of the totem pole. They have hard, physical jobs and they raise families on a shoestring budget. Often the only enjoyment these people get out of life is through Football (what we would think of as soccer) and subculture. Dances, Rallies, Meetings, festivals are organized. Most of the subcultures developed heavily in britain throughout the 50s, 60s and 70s still exist, although thankfully the violence between the subcultures has lessened, and usually revolves around Football matches more than rock n roll gigs.

I have a great admiration for the music and fashion of some of these cultures, and for those of you who don't know about them, consider this an education. For those of you who do, I found some cool rare pics on the web you can stare at.

I personally take my fashion tips from ALL of these subcultures, which is a jumble sale, very American thing to do. This is probably a horrible sin that would get me beaten to a pulp in the UK, at least in the old days...but I'm an American, what do I know, eh? I'll wear a mod parka with Teddy Boy brothel creepers, I'll wear a Rocker style leather jacket with a Mod target pin on it. Punk Rock sort of stole from each of these cultures, as well. Below are some of my fave subcultures,. By no means is this a complete list. Just my faves of the PRE- PUNK ROCK Brit subcultures.

We start with the TEDDY BOYS:

An unlikely fashion alliance between 1800s Edwardian frock coats and 1950s Elvis/Bill Haley rockabilly style, Teddy Boy is a striking fashion. They listen mostly to original Rock N Roll: Chuck Berry, Gene Vincent, Billy Fury. The brothel Creeper, a staple of modern Rockabilly and Punk fashion, started with the Teddy Boys, supposedly as a slightly "off" copy of the shoes Jerry Lee Lewis wore on his ill-fated first visit to the UK in the late 50s. Long drape jackets in bright colors, string ties, brothel creepers, and highly sculpted sausage roll Quiffs (pompadours to Americans) are the marks of true Teddy Boy-ism.

ROCKERS:

Descended from the Teddy Boys, Rockers also live the 1950s rocknroll lifestyle, but prefer the dirtier, Biker gang, leather and chains approach first seen in American movies like "The Wild One".

The Rockers dragged the 50s style kicking and screaming into the 60s, 70s and beyond.They would wage war with any subculture who professed to be more modern, like their famous battles with the Mods. They rode classic British and american motorcycles, and often spent most of their money on maintenence of said vehicles. Like the Teddy Boys, they too listened to American rocknroll music of the fifties, and any newer bands with that sound.

Their arch rivals were, of course....

THE MODS:

Mods listened to a hodge podge of American and British Soul Music, modern British "Beat" music like the Small Faces, The Who and the Kinks (although regarding the Beatles and Stones as 'too mainstream'), Jazz and especially Jamaican Ska and early Reggae.

This was entirely a 1960s born phenomenon, and the Mods hated the rockers for being so retro and not embracing the new.

The Mod look was decidedly detail oriented. One must wear the certain type of suit jacket with the most updated style. One's lapels could not be too big. Ones trousers must fit perfectly. The Mods spent their money on tailoring. The hair was clipped short and smart. Fashions were adhered to slavishly.

The Mods look, once again comes from America. American GIs left over from the war (WW2) had settled in England, bringing with them american soul records and stylish Rat Pack era fashions. Sharkskin (or "Tonic") suits, casual loafers, short, neat hair, skinny ties. The Mods took to this heartily, adding 60s Carnaby street flash to the mix. Also a direct American influence is found in the Mods donning of American GI Parkas, again left over from the war and available in large amounts at Thrift Stores and secondhand shops all over London. The parkas were usually worn over sized, to cover the expensive suits and other clothing the Mods wore. Mods also favored Fred Perry polo shirts, Stay Prest trousers and Desert Boots. Very sharp stuff.

The Mods would consume mass quantities of amphetamine sulfate, in order to dance all night and look ace doing it. The best looking and hippest Mods were called "Ace Faces". Mod transportation was largely limited to Italian Scooters.

Onto the most misunderstood and maligned Brit cult of all.

SKINHEADS:

There's" something about a shaved head that just looks violent and agressive. Skinheads evolved from Mod. As original Mod-ism devolved into the late 60s frilly hippy quagmire, some of the old faces, and new ones, began to rebel against the long hair and crap music that was all the rage. Taking original Mod icons like Fred Perry shirts, Stay Prest trousers with them, but ditching alot of the more extrovert dandy-ism, skinheads were the most extreme die hards of sharp, clipped style. Donkey Jackets, suspenders, Flight jackets and Doc Martens (usually worn over size) were other elements of the style.

In the beinning, Skins listened to Jamaican Reggae and Ska as the main part of their musical diet. The look was part Mod, part American GI, part Jamaican "Rude Boy" (gangster). It was not a racist movement at this point. The emphasis was on dancing, drinking, working class family values, and Football. It could be violent, especially at football matches. But there was no "Nazi Youth" element, something which unfortunately creeped in to certain skinhead circles much later.

One of the early Skinhead Rocknroll bands was SLADE, who went on to much greater fame as a (awkward looking) Glam Rock group in the 70s. Driving, loud British RnB was always Slades' forte. I think they looked much better as skinheads though. Check it Out:

Their look and sound at that point was proto punk, several years before punk happened. Proto-Oi, perhaps. So that makes them the UKs answer to the Stooges and MC5, no?

Here's a great pic from the original skinhead era. Ska/Reggae icon and absolute soul master Jimmy Cliff with some skinhead boys and girls (both boys happen to be members of Slade):

In the late 70s, some skinheads (but NOT all) adopted some punk styles and also misunderstood Punks' use of the swastika as a shock tactic. Racist organizations preyed on young working class youth and sucked alot of skins into their orbit, hereby forever associating skinheads with racism and violence even though most skins were not racist. Violent, probably. Racially motivated, no.

Here is a great picture from the 70s that I think illustrates my point:

Smarter Skins were swept up in the late 70s 2-Tone Craze, which was a musically energized period wherein punk musicians began to play hopped up supercharged versions of Ska and reggae. This music is some of the greatest, most unpretentious, most fun music in existence.

There was also a heavy Mod revival in the late 70s, crossed with punk and inspired chiefly by (one of my all time fave bands) the Jam. Skins, Punks, and Mods were both present at the Jams' gigs as well as gigs by any Two Tone band.

When Skinhead-ism spread to America, it was misinterpreted by most. The Neo-Nazi movement got tons of press here,and drew alot of psychotics and racists under the banner of skinhead-ism. Once again, when you mention Skinheads these days , most people think of racism. This is very sad. Especially when there are organizations like the SHARPS out there (SkinHeads Against Racial Predjudice).

In the present day (or more recently, anyway), alot of big UK bands like Oasis and Blur have revived elements of the Mod/Skin style. Paul Weller of the Jam has a wildly successful solo career, and draws thousands of Mods to his gigs to this day.

I've attempted to demonstrate how US and UK styles have meshed over the past 60 plus years and formed most of what we consider western pop culture. Present day "hipsters", seen and maligned the world over, are themselves an unwitting and often ironic hodge podge of mod, rocker, punk and skin styles, adding a hippy/bohemian/slacker vibe to the mix. This is widely considered annoying to those of us old enough to remember the real styles, and how they once meant more than just fashion. Even so, the styles endure in their pure and semi-altered forms to this day.