tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6608083412847831092024-03-09T00:18:58.851+03:00Only Solitaire blog2009-2020 Music Reviews From <a href="http://starlingdb.org/music/index.htm">George Starostin</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger3368125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-53430117534327057272021-12-31T16:58:00.005+03:002021-12-31T16:58:53.282+03:00One Thing Ends, Another Begins<p>Hello everybody,<br /><br />as you are probably well aware by now, the Only Solitaire Blog is officially frozen, dead, and gone. <br /><br />Feel free to browse the archives, but if you want to follow the fresh developments, skedaddle over here to the revised and revamped <a href="https://starlingdb.org/music/">Only Solitaire</a>, or to the draft-like unpolished state at the <a href="https://onlysolitaire.substack.com/">Only Solitaire Herald</a> on Substack.<br /><br />Yours sincerely,<br />George S.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-61054030264357295472020-08-11T11:46:00.002+03:002020-08-11T11:46:27.474+03:00Elvis Presley: Elvis (1968)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9YkOr17th6zp1DIL70mpprr_1Q_a44PMo9-f9LzDOindi-AV6uuB7Op1I3w43oZtovzuuBvZAgNg-1Qhg2Z57v0PsQ5AoKlMozmWxE9seqbuiz-8Jf-NtLuAhbkJSFG-p52OLl4YGAw/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9YkOr17th6zp1DIL70mpprr_1Q_a44PMo9-f9LzDOindi-AV6uuB7Op1I3w43oZtovzuuBvZAgNg-1Qhg2Z57v0PsQ5AoKlMozmWxE9seqbuiz-8Jf-NtLuAhbkJSFG-p52OLl4YGAw/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">ELVIS PRESLEY: ELVIS (1968)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></b>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) Trouble / Guitar Man; 2) Medley: Lawdy Miss
Clawdy / Baby What You Want Me To Do / Heartbreak Hotel / Hound Dog / All Shook
Up / Canʼt Help Falling In Love / Jailhouse Rock / Love Me Tender; 3) Where
Could I Go But To The Lord? / Up Above My Head / Saved; 4) Blue Christmas / One
Night; 5) Memories; 6) Medley: Nothingville / Big Boss Man / Guitar Man / Little
Egypt / Trouble / Guitar Man; 7) <span style="color: red;">If I Can Dream</span>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: yellow;">The famous «out of the frying pan and into
the fire» Comeback Special — like watching a paralyzed man trying to relearn to
walk, with mixed success.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: yellow;"><br /></span></i></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And here it is, folks — The Comeback Special in
all its glory, though the original LP, faithfully reproducing most of the
material from the broadcast of December 3, 1968, certainly pales in scope next
to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Complete</b> edition from 2008,
with 4 CDs covering the entirety of the sessions for the special. Were I a big
fan of The Special, I would have certainly looked that one up. Unfortunately,
Iʼm not, and never have been, and here is why.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">There are clearly no doubts as to the fact that
the Elvis Special was the first Elvis-related project in years which the King
actually enjoyed — or that it was a major turning point in his career, marking
the transition from a life dominated by movies to a life once again dominated
by live performances and regular studio recordings. One question, however,
which I very rarely see thrown around, seems quite obvious to me: if this
program, and whatever steps followed it, are regarded as a «comeback» for
Elvis, then why the hell did this comeback last for just a few years? Why did
it quickly evolve into a pompous Vegasy ritual for affluent middle-aged ladies?
Why the drugs, the obesity, the deteriorating quality of both recorded material
and live performances? Was there really a «comeback» in the first place, or?...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Upon first glance, what the enthralled
audiences saw in that TV studio in mid-ʼ68 (and millions of people later
witnessed during the broadcast) was a freshened up, rejuvenated, exhilarated Elvis,
dressed in imposing black leather, surrounded by his trusty bandmates,
thrusting his hips like there was no tomorrow, performing a smorgasbord of his
classic hits, real rockʼnʼroll stuff, none of all that recent movie crap — just
look at the track listing. A few gospel classics thrown in for good measure, a
good old Christmas song, great ballads like ʽCanʼt Help Falling In Loveʼ and
ʽLove Me Tenderʼ. Scottie Moore himself back in top form and soloing like
crazy! Like itʼs 1957 all over again, or something like that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Alas, it was all for naught in the long run. If
you want to see a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">real</i> comeback —
well, maybe not a «comeback» per se, but a set of authentic, credible,
exciting, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">relevant</i> live performances
from the rockʼnʼroll pioneers, look no further than the Toronto RockʼnʼRoll
Revival festival from 1969, with Chuck Berry, Little Richard, and Jerry Lee
Lewis performing next to younger and hipper artists (including some odd guy
called John Lennon, among others) and proudly holding their own ground, just doing
their old thang and submitting themselves to the all-powerful God of
RockʼnʼRoll. Next to those fairly ferocious performances, the Elvis Comeback
Special most certainly pales in comparison because it was, first and foremost,
a SuperStar Show, a Celebration of Celebrity. Instead of being about
rockʼnʼroll, it was all about King Elvis — although the greatest irony of it
all was that King Elvis himself <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">may</i>
have very well thought that it was really all about rockʼnʼroll after all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The very setting of the show — a tiny lighted
square grid, surrounded on all sides by adoring fans, within the space of which
the King would be promenading his leather-clad hips — ironically resembles a
locked cage, with a captive, if not fully tamed, tiger walking from one end to
another and back again. The performances themselves are rowdy and spirited, but
the format is rather ridiculous: most of the songs are actually snippets, bound
together in lengthy medleys, as if the aim of the show was to remind the
population of how many classic hits this wonderful man has had in his previous
life, rather than just let everybody have a good time. Even the leather, truth
be told, looks rather silly — remember that in the Fifties Elvis had no need
whatsoever to borrow the rebellious Gene Vincent look in order to succeed, and
it certainly has <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> become a natural
look for him in the next decade, either; no wonder that «leather-clad Elvis» so
quickly gave way to the «jumpsuit Elvis» once he returned to live performing
fulltime.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">To be clear: in the context of the time, the
Comeback Special was a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">massive</i>
breakthrough for Elvis — and itʼs not like there isnʼt a lot of fun involved in
listening to this performance. When the King breaks into ʽHeartbreak Hotelʼ or
ʽHound Dogʼ, brief as those moments are, he must have felt as if he was
punching through a wall with each of these verses — he delivers them with the
grotesquely overworked abandon of a starved man who doesnʼt really care if he
dies on the spot from overeating, he just gonna <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do</i> it, come hell or high water. When he half-accidentally,
half-intentionally butchers stuff like ʽLove Me Tenderʼ or ʽOne Nightʼ with
unfunny improvised lyrics, it is, too, the act of a drunken man on the night of
the lifting of Prohibition. But then he starts rambling on the current state of
music ("I like a lot of the new groups, you know..."), or patting his
bandmates on the back, or going all spasmodic on the surrounding fans, and this
is where you are reminded that the Comeback Special is a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">show</i>, first and foremost, and has much more to do with Elvisʼ
personality cult than with the spirit of rockʼnʼroll.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">No better reminder of that than the opening and
closing sequences — a burlesque medley of ʽTroubleʼ and ʽGuitar Manʼ in the
beginning, and a mini-musical about Elvis as a struggling artist at the end.
The songs are all good, but the arrangements are predictably Vegas-ified (oh
those stupid, stupid, stupid brass howls in the intro to ʽGuitar Manʼ!), and
the emphasis is always on the King-Is-Back thing rather than the music. It is
quite telling that they hired Steve Binder to direct it all — the man
previously known for directing the<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">
T.A.M.I. Show</i> in 1964, way back when this glitzy stylistics was actually
cutting edge and did not take the proper attention away from the artistry
(like, your eyes were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">probably</i> still
glued to James Brown and the Rolling Stones rather than the vapid go-go girls
shaking it in the background). But what may have worked for all sorts of
audiences in 1964 could only work for very specific types of audiences in 1968,
when the «cutting edge» format would rather be describing something like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Rolling Stones RockʼnʼRoll Circus</i>
than the Comeback Special.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Consequently, there are only three things I
genuinely like about it all. First, I like to see people happy, and Elvis here
was quite credibly happy, so I canʼt help but feel a little happy about him,
too — happy-sad, of course, realising that in the long run this was the first
step on the road that led him to even further humiliation and, ultimately, the
grave; but thereʼs something to be said and enjoyed about the short run as
well, after all. Second, being a big Scotty Moore fan, it is really great to
see him in close-up action on the stage (given how little footage of Elvis we
have from the Fifties and how it never ever focuses on his backing players),
and, by the way, it is sad that the original album omitted what was possibly
the most touching and thrilling moment inside their little boxing ring — the
performance of ʽThatʼs Alright, Mamaʼ by Elvis and his original band (minus
Bill Black, who passed away in 1965). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Third, the show and album conclude with ʽIf I
Can Dreamʼ, the song that marks Elvisʼ transition into the gospel-soul business
and whose quality and passion, in my opinion, trump just about every single
moment on <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">From Elvis In Memphis</b> — perhaps
because it was such a fresh take for the King at the moment: heʼd wrestled the
right to sing the song from the Colonel, who did not think it suitable for his
protegé (for a good reason — what <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">would</i>
make the Colonel care about his artist singing MLK quotations instead of
"old MacDonald had a farm"?), and he really gave it his all — there
is an out-of-control tear in his voice here that you never heard before even on
his gospel recordings, let alone all the cute pop songs. If there is one single
moment of complete honesty and genuine emotion here, ʽIf I Can Dreamʼ is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">it</i>, and upon hearing it, you can
actually understand what he meant when he said "Iʼm never going to sing
another song I donʼt believe in" (even if I am really not sure that he
truly kept that promise).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In the end, it is absolutely no sin to enjoy <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Elvis ʼ68</b> and get caught up in the
excitement; it is simply important to realise that, while this was certainly an
important and glaringly obvious change in direction, the word «comeback» is not
a very good one to describe the event — not coincidentally, the word itself
made its first appearance in the Colonelʼs discourse when, soon after the show,
heʼd announced a «comeback tour» for Elvis. Sadly, a «comeback» to the values
that imbued and defined his classic years was really out of the question — like
demanding the victim of a serious stroke to «come back» to his original state
of health. The good thing about it is that it managed to give us Elvis, the
credible soul singer, for a few years. The bad thing about it is that it really
failed to give us back Elvis, the intoxicating rockʼnʼroller.</span> </div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: yellow;"></span></i></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com38tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-76388395067460762982020-08-11T11:45:00.001+03:002020-08-11T11:45:16.459+03:00Elvis Presley: Speedway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzffhZEGnobdTNQoXx_-c9VQ2ssC0aIlVkeLHlpOYeqpvRaC2kP50pJRB-WkuqHRWuityash7y8ephqaaQhuGGXhDlZcJrQZMxtaICF_X0-rMjqO9sK3z-EEK_AidUwsFMzh4NG1lz2UM/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzffhZEGnobdTNQoXx_-c9VQ2ssC0aIlVkeLHlpOYeqpvRaC2kP50pJRB-WkuqHRWuityash7y8ephqaaQhuGGXhDlZcJrQZMxtaICF_X0-rMjqO9sK3z-EEK_AidUwsFMzh4NG1lz2UM/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">ELVIS PRESLEY: SPEEDWAY (1968)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></b>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) Speedway; 2) There Ainʼt Nothing Like A Song;
3) Your Time Hasnʼt Come Yet Baby; 4) Who Are You; 5) <span style="color: #00b050;">Heʼs
Your Uncle Not Your Dad</span>; 6) Let Yourself Go; 7) <span style="color: red;">Your
Groovy Self</span>; 8) Five Sleepy Heads; 9) Western Union; 10) Mine; 11) Goinʼ
Home; 12) Suppose.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: yellow;">Just another typical later-period Elvis
soundtrack — nothing to indicate that it would be his last, though if they had
the good sense to involve Lee Hazlewood a bit more, I might even have regretted
that.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: yellow;"><br /></span></i></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Although Elvis starred in at least six more
movies after <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Clambake</i>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Speedway</i> would be the only one of these
and, consequently, the very last full-fledged Elvis soundtrack LP accompanying
a feature film (rather than a TV show or concert documentary). Doubtlessly,
this had to do with plummeting sales — with its miserable profits, the album
became the final nail in the coffin of the Elvis soundtrack album. Yet, once
again, in the overall context of Elvisʼ Sixties output, it is nowhere near as
boring and irrelevant as the 1965–66 stretch of embarrassments. Once again, we
are dealing here with a bizarre mixed bag — some nicely acceptable goodies
going hand-in-hand with true Kings of Corn.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The big deal about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Speedway</i>, the movie, was that it featured Nancy Sinatra as Elvisʼ
co-star; and while it would be unfair to all the truly great ladies of the
Sixties to regard Nancy Sinatra as a top tier artist for the decade, she had at
least two things going for her — a touch of tough, edgy class and collaboration
with Lee Hazlewood. Both of these things work wonders for us with the inclusion
into the soundtrack of one song that has absolutely nothing to do with Elvis —
the Hazlewood-written slow «country cabaret» tune ʽYour Groovy Selfʼ, delivered
by Nancy in her fairly trademark «half-empowered, half-stoned» hazy drawl,
oozing sardonic mid-Sixties cool in a way that would be totally unthinkable for
Elvis himself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">She does cross paths with Elvis on the Joy
Byers-written ʽThere Ainʼt Nothing Like A Songʼ, though «written» is a bit too
strong — most of the time, Byers takes old classics and tweaks them in slight
ways, this one being no exception: it is really just an updated, overproduced
take on ʽKing Creoleʼ, but at least the tempo is fast, the drums are crashing,
the guitar solo is tight, and Nancyʼs responses to the Kingʼs calls in the
final verse add a touch of diversity; I could never say, though, that there is
anything here even remotely recalling the kind of chemistry that Elvis had with
Ann-Margret. Too bad — with a bit more work, we could have gleefully enjoyed a
pair of hip boots walking all over the Kingʼs hillbilly chauvinist persona, but
perhaps the song- and screenwriters were taking conscious effort at this point
so as not to humiliate their star beyond reasonable limits.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">They did a decent enough job on the title
track, another Vegas-rocker partially redeemed by some nice boogie piano and a
semi-inspired vocal workout; ʽYour Time Hasnʼt Come Yet Babyʼ, a pleasantly
upbeat acoustic ballad written by team newcomer Joel Hirschhorn in a style
vaguely reminiscent of Elvisʼ late Fifties material like; and ʽLet Yourself
Goʼ, another Joy Byers «composition» which is really just a Vegas-ization of
Willie Dixonʼs ʽLittle Babyʼ but thatʼs alright, weʼll take it for lack of
anything better.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">On the downside, Ben Weisman and Sid Wayne
offer another fine, totally justified contribution for <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Elvisʼ Greatest Shit</b> — that one song with the unforgettable title
ʽHeʼs Your Uncle, Not Your Dadʼ. Like any respectable, well-meaning,
law-abiding citizen of this planet, I did not doubt for a second that this was
going to be a song about good old incest before putting it on — so imagine my
disappointment when it turned out that the «uncle» in question was Uncle Sam,
and that the song itself was an «ironic» parody on a patriotic military march.
Honestly, what with the Kingʼs total inability to carry off anything ironic,
sarcastic, or plain humorous, Iʼd probably have preferred the song to be a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sincere</i> patriotic march — but then
again, perhaps we could do without patriotic marching altogether? (It doesnʼt
help much if you actually watch the choreography in the movie, either — the
most pitiful thing in the world is trying to look funny without having the
first idea of how to achieve a properly comedic effect).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Once again, the total number of new songs
(seven) was barely enough to fill up one side of the LP, so they had to quickly
scrape together some leftovers — unfortunately, three of them came from the
rotten factory of Bennett and Tepper, including ʽWestern Unionʼ from 1963 (yet <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">another</i> wretched attempt to recreate the
success of ʽReturn To Senderʼ, almost note-for-note) and the utterly generic
lullaby ʽFive Sleepy Headsʼ. Only Joy Byersʼ ʽGoinʼ Homeʼ is worthy of a bit of
attention — I cannot identify the exact folk / country source from which she
ripped off that one (probably something by Johnny Cash), but at least the King
sounds a bit more authentic and inspired on this one. Still, with even the
bonus tracks now incapable to bring up the value of the finished product, it is
easy to see why <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Speedway</b> marked the
long-awaited end of Elvisʼ soundtrack business: even the trusty corporate
mafia were getting tired hacking out new material for the movies. For most of
his subsequent movies, they would contribute 2–3 new songs on average, and it
was fairly clear that it no longer truly made any difference if Elvis were to
sing anything in the movie or not. In fact, itʼs ridiculous that the machine <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">still</i> kept rolling on, by inertia, for
at least half a year after the comeback special. But hey, at least we got to
see the man getting it on with Mary Tyler Moore in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Change Of Habit</i>.</span> </div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: yellow;"></span></i></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-91158049828908042672020-08-04T14:20:00.002+03:002020-08-04T14:20:25.928+03:00Elvis Presley: Clambake<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpm4wQ8z1XBat89Bg_IbSYJ1EogABgRsW39nu-qQso1oBjeVVCr_XufvkFSsDQwzzIGcNYqmbRWmdu5qa7aPCsaMQnF_Qr4RiM7B2aJ3DrpHDlVTshNnz6rosOYTonk3FPnx3K6FpToCk/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpm4wQ8z1XBat89Bg_IbSYJ1EogABgRsW39nu-qQso1oBjeVVCr_XufvkFSsDQwzzIGcNYqmbRWmdu5qa7aPCsaMQnF_Qr4RiM7B2aJ3DrpHDlVTshNnz6rosOYTonk3FPnx3K6FpToCk/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">ELVIS PRESLEY: CLAMBAKE (1967)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></b>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) <span style="color: red;">Guitar Man</span>; 2)
<span style="color: #00b050;">Clambake</span>; 3) <span style="color: #00b050;">Who
Needs Money?</span>; 4) A House That Has Everything; 5) <span style="color: #00b050;">Confidence</span>; 6) Hey, Hey, Hey; 7) You Donʼt Know Me; 8) The Girl
I Never Loved; 9) How Can You Lose What You Never Had; 10) <span style="color: red;">Big Boss Man</span>; 11) Singing Tree; 12) Just Call Me
Lonesome; 13) Hi-Heel Sneakers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: yellow;">Much of this «clambake» is inedible as
usual, but fortunately for us, Elvisʼ movie songwriters are getting really
tired and lazy, leaving a few nice empty spots for good people to come and fill
ʼem up.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: yellow;"><br /></span></i></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Everything written about <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Double Trouble</b> applies equally well to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Clambake</b>, the soundtrack to a movie that could just as well be a
culinary show, because, honestly, who cared at the time? As an album, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Clambake</b> is a roughly proportioned mix
of horrible novelty numbers; derivative but listenable pop-rock fodder; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> a few classics whose presence is
randomized but not totally accidental, because every once in a while the man
would stick his head out of his shell and take a bite of juicy stuff — before
being beaten back under cover with another batch of Bennett and Tepper
compositions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The obvious classic here is the very first
track (which wasnʼt even in the movie, and so much the better for it) — Elvisʼ
cover of Jerry Reedʼs freshly released ʽGuitar Manʼ, with Jerry Reed in person
manning that acoustic guitar because, allegedly, nobody around Elvis could
properly replicate Reedʼs finger-picking style. You could say that here was
another little gem of a country-rock song stolen by Elvis from a lesser known
artist, but truth is, the song was perfect for Elvis: Reedʼs voice is that of a
charismatic country trickster, while Elvis is a raging force of nature, and the
feeling of triumph over all the obstacles that life throws in your way is felt
much more bluntly on the Elvis version. (It also boasts cleaner and subtler
production, but this is to be expected — all of Elvisʼ Sixties records were
polished to perfection, so if you are rather after a bit of lo-fi rawness,
stick to the original instead). In any case, the good news is that Elvis and
Reed really clicked on that session, and the result is another track that can
proudly stand up to any randomly chosen Elvis classic from his golden years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Other above-average material, also recorded to
pad out the scanty soundtrack, includes Jimmy (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> Jerry) Reedʼs ʽBig Boss Manʼ, with Jerry (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> Jimmy) Reed also manning the guitar and Charlie McCoy blowing
the harmonica all through the song, as if trying to gain supremacy over the
lead vocal (sometimes he actually succeeds); and a couple of decent country
ballads, such as ʽSinging Treeʼ and ʽYou Donʼt Know Meʼ, which Elvis sings with
total conviction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Unfortunately and predictably, the soundtrack
material is quite rotten in comparison — the worst offenders being Randy
Starrʼs vaudeville ditty ʽWho Needs Money?ʼ (a very stupid duet with Elvisʼ
co-star in the movie) <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i>, of course,
ʽConfidenceʼ, in many respects a spiritual successor to ʽOld MacDonaldʼ and another
fully deserving entry on the famous compilation <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Elvisʼ Greatest Shit</b>. As a Sesame Street number, it would have been
perfectly adequate; as something through which every loyal grown-up admirer of
the King had to be put, itʼs humiliating torture. One only has to wonder if the
man was forced to wear breeches and suspenders in the studio for extra
authenticity. And caned on the butt after each bad take.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Even Joy Byers is not fully up to task this
time; her ʽHey, Hey, Heyʼ, seemingly a rip-off of some old Motown dance number
that I do not quite recognize, is way too old-fashioned for 1967 — this kind of
style had gone out at least a year or two ago, together with the likes of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shindig</i>. This leaves the title track as
the most «modern» number, with the obligatory distorted electric guitar lick
and the glitzy-swaggy Tom Jones attitude — but, of course, you canʼt do all
that much with a song whose chorus goes "mammaʼs little baby loves
clambake, clambake, mammaʼs little baby loves clambake too". Heck, it
doesnʼt even work as a gross sexual innuendo, unless you somehow find a way to
work «sausagefest» in there too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Still, on the whole it is once again amusing
and intriguing to witness the ongoing battle of the «soundtrack agenda» with
«re-emerging artistic inclinations» — here is yet another record where Elvis is
sort of left to his own devices whenever there is empty space to be filled on
the chunk of vinyl, and one could argue that, paradoxically, it was precisely
this filler problem that ultimately aided Elvis in resuscitating and prolonging
his artistic life by a few years.</span> </div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: yellow;"></span></i></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-11741586431186212062020-08-04T14:19:00.000+03:002020-08-04T14:19:07.702+03:00Frank Black: Frank Black<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwCwK_VmEgGifBEIdvylfkwcI7rCmTY71jSiVKAP3_S55MG8BWthgT_VkqtAF5_3U6R4ikzCvL5Nlrk0lhLoS5L6dU8w6PRax1cwSUXnjOaxqtQwq8bcnzGohns7O5_GpeMk_i-69HzQ0/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwCwK_VmEgGifBEIdvylfkwcI7rCmTY71jSiVKAP3_S55MG8BWthgT_VkqtAF5_3U6R4ikzCvL5Nlrk0lhLoS5L6dU8w6PRax1cwSUXnjOaxqtQwq8bcnzGohns7O5_GpeMk_i-69HzQ0/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">FRANK BLACK:</span><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"> FRANK BLACK<span style="letter-spacing: -.1pt;"> (1993)</span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><span style="letter-spacing: -.1pt;"><br /></span></span></b>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) Los Angeles; 2) I Heard Ramona Sing; 3) Hang
On To Your Ego; 4) Fu Manchu; 5) Places Named After Numbers; 6) Czar; 7) Old
Black Dawning; 8) Ten Percenter; 9) Brackish Boy; 10) Two Spaces; 11) Tossed;
12) Parry The Wind High, Low; 13) Adda Lee; 14) Every Time I Go Around Here;
15) Donʼt Ya Rile ʼEm.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: #ffc000; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">A «return to roots» of sort for the twisted alien
mind of a former Pixie, but without forgetting the twisted alien mind.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: #ffc000; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></i></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It may seem bizarre or controversial, but I
actually enjoy Frank Blackʼs self-titled solo debut slightly more than I feel
for <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Trompe Le Monde</b> — albeit only
slightly, since something about Frankʼs individual vision had blocked his solo
career right from the start from ever overtaking the high points of Pixies.
Nevertheless, there <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> that cherished
feel of liberation and a new beginning about this record, the same one that
used to characterize the first records by solo Beatles and make them
outstanding in their own ways. It is pure intuition, of course, but somehow <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Trompe Le Monde</b>, to me, has the feel of
an album they were forcing themselves to make, whereas <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Frank Black</b> is very clearly an album that Frank Black <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">wanted</i> to make. Though, admittedly, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">why</i> he wanted to make this kind of album
is an issue yet to be resolved.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">From a purely musical standpoint, this is
actually a very «normal» record. Despite the important presence of Joey
Santiago to handle lead guitar duties, there is no attempt to somehow channel
the experimental spirit of classic Pixies — for the most part, Frank writes his
solo material in a fairly conventional manner, and his main musical influences
seem to be the Beatles and the Ramones rather than Talking Heads or Pere Ubu or
Captain Beefheart, even despite the fact that his bass and keyboard player, as
well as producer, Eric Drew Feldman, had previously worked for both Pere Ubu <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> the good Captain. But «conventional»
need not mean «predictable» or «boring»: most of the songs are made
interesting, one way or another, by being injected with healthy doses of
Frankʼs uniquely weird personality.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The very first song is ʽLos Angelesʼ, whose
complex structure, for some reason, reminds me of Radioheadʼs ʽParanoid
Androidʼ — a similar mix of folk, psychedelia, and hard rock (well,
straightforward grunge in Frankʼs case) imbued with an aura of I-donʼt-belong-here
sadness, though Frank Black would never agree to wear his heart so openly on
his sleeve as Thom Yorke does: for Frank, being too vulnerable comes across as
either a sign of weakness or a sign of narcissism (choose one based on your own
ideological alignment). Of course, ʽLos Angelesʼ is nowhere near as epic or
compositionally rich as ʽParanoid Androidʼ, but I still love its crazy shifts
of tone and tempo, its hilarious forays into old-school prog-rock territory
when those synth fanfares roll out on the battlefield around 1:25 into the
song, or its back-of-your-mind falsetto vocals from the classic book of
psychedelic pop. What is the song about? Well, he wants to live in Los Angeles,
but «not the one in Los Angeles». I mean, honestly — who wouldnʼt?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Even before hearing the album, you would
probably be able to predict what it is going to be about: namely, building an
alternate variant of the universe for the artistic alter ego of Charles
Thompson IV, formerly known under the sinister moniker of Black Francis but now
simply Frank Black, ever since he managed to disentangle himself from the Dark
Side. There will be songs about aliens, time travel, oceans, and ghosts; there
will be songs about strange and possibly quite meaningless things; and there
will even be an uptempo, almost «techno» cover of the original version of the
Beach Boysʼ ʽI Know Thereʼs An Answerʼ — ʽHang On To Your Egoʼ (which, not
coincidentally, had only recently been released for the first time on CD, so we
could probably tell Frank is a major <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Pet
Sounds</b> fan from this fact alone). Well, I guess one thing we could never
accuse Frank Black of is not hanging on to his ego.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">That said, if there is one single thread
running through all or most of the songs on here, it is not Frankʼs ego as such
but rather all the things that Frank loves — tons of lyrical and musical
references to all sorts of pop culture elements, some of which would take a
genuine connoisseur to notice, while others are more obvious. For instance,
besides the Beatles and the Beach Boys, Frank obviously loves the Ramones, and
so he decided to write a song about them, changing ʽRamonesʼ to ʽRamonaʼ so
that things wouldnʼt be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i> obvious and
youʼd be misled into thinking that maybe it has something to do with Dylanʼs ʽTo
Ramonaʼ instead. Never mind that ʽI Heard Ramona Singʼ is played at about
one-third the speed of a usual Ramona, uh, Ramones song: just speed it up and
you get yourself a modestly catchy pop-rock anthem filled with giddy teen
adoration. I am not sure if Frankʼs "I hope if someone retires / They pull
another Menudo" bit of advice is really practical — after all, the Ramones
did outlive themselves by 1993, not to mention historyʼs cruel irony of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all</i> the original members dying before
they got really old — but if taken as a simple allegory for eternal youth, itʼs
nothing to complain about.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Oddly enough, one of my favorite pieces on the
album is the only song not to feature any vocals at all: ʽTossedʼ is a kick-ass
piece of steady 4/4 power pop, with big strong muscular basslines, drum
rhythms, and guitar interplay — its best moment, however, is when the rhythm is
joined by equally muscular sax parts which carry a Beach Boys-like spirit and
somehow give the entire workout that special sunny Californian flair. This kind
of material would be particularly appealing to all those who love Brian
Wilsonʼs pop hooks and melodicity but deplore their lack of kick-ass rock
energy — of course, Frank Black is not Brian Wilson, and his melody skills are
nowhere near the same league, but he has that great knack for marrying crunch
and melody, and it is good to see that this is one thing that he hasnʼt lost
one bit after divorcing the band.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Another of Frankʼs clear connections is David
Bowie — ʽFu Manchuʼ, with its glam-rock brass arrangement, epic-soulful vocals,
and half-mystical, half-comical pathos, sounds like something that would have
nicely fit in on an album like <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Diamond
Dogs</b>. The big difference is the voice: it might be an American vs. British
thing or it might just have to do with an innate discrepancy between vocal
timbres, but Frank always struggles when it comes to convincingly represent an
unknowable being from outer space. (One reason why ʽCactusʼ, in some ways,
actually became a better song when David covered it on <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Heathen</b> — I sure wish heʼd developed an interest in ʽFu Manchuʼ as
well). On the other hand, Blackʼs preference for more simplistic, poppy,
ska-like rhythmics of the ʽOb-La-Di Ob-La-Daʼ type gives his own brand of alien
comic-book mysticism this childlike charm that makes him particularly endearing
where a David Bowie might come across as way too alienated and impenetrable. To
each his own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Like most Frank Black albums, this one works
better as a whole than on the level of individual songs — thereʼs just too many
of those, and it is difficult to pick truly outstanding hooks and unforgettable
highlights because, for one thing, Blackʼs arrangements and chord patterns do
not show that much diversity, and even his cute brass flourishes start becoming
predictable after a while. But there are still enough quirks to make the album
flow by without getting boring, and he manages to sign off on a suitably high
and grandiose note — ʽDonʼt Ya Rile ʼEmʼ, a song about the advantages of
natural light over electricity (sort of), really manages to tie its melody to
lyrics like "Iʼve been working my way back to sane / Itʼs coming back to
me again / Old navigational ways / Back in time where I belong / Theyʼre
playing my favorite song". Adepts of constant progress might flinch at
this scrap of a nostalgic manifesto, but the truth about <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Frank Black</b> is that it merely takes a small step away from the
eccentric excesses of classic Pixies, and its «normalization» of the Frank
Black sound, along with all the artistic bows to his influences, does not
prevent the music from expressing the Frank Black persona. Which is just the
way some people like it — myself included.</span> </div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: #ffc000; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span></i></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-27769206868434042102020-08-04T14:12:00.000+03:002020-08-04T14:17:14.686+03:00Elvis Presley: Double Trouble<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16pt;"></span></b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipX-G9LB4noGBkR4AC7MButKqqe6F9M9yYK3DtyHQWf96hOXSxI6f2lvR_XgYuVXM_QsoosUWv_MkiGEEeKGvnZ1Ryek3jG6ZzSRStpROKny3DmM1SIVYkC3LjDE-yYItFXnAY-n-RRJo/s300/folder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipX-G9LB4noGBkR4AC7MButKqqe6F9M9yYK3DtyHQWf96hOXSxI6f2lvR_XgYuVXM_QsoosUWv_MkiGEEeKGvnZ1Ryek3jG6ZzSRStpROKny3DmM1SIVYkC3LjDE-yYItFXnAY-n-RRJo/s0/folder.jpg" /></a></span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16pt;">ELVIS PRESLEY: DOUBLE TROUBLE (1967)</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16pt;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 10pt;">1) Double Trouble; 2) Baby, If Youʼll Give Me
All Your Love; 3) Could I Fall In Love; 4) Long Legged Girl; 5) <span style="color: red;">City By Night</span>; 6) <span style="color: #00b050;">Old
MacDonald</span>; 7) <span style="color: #00b050;">I Love Only One Girl</span>;
8) There Is So Much World To See; 9) It Wonʼt Be Long; 10) Never Ending; 11) <span style="color: red;">Blue River</span>; 12) What Now, What Next, Where To.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 10pt;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: yellow;">Passable glitzy pop-rock entertainment with
a few serious lows — almost a masterpiece compared to the depths plumbed a
couple of years before.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 10pt;"><i><span style="color: yellow;"><br /></span></i></span></div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Although this and the next few soundtracks art
not so great by any means, I believe that any honest evaluation of them as
proper LPs should admit that they are nowhere near as bad as that entire
stretch from 1965 to early 1966, pre-<b>Spinout</b>.
Want it or not, times <i>had</i> forced the
Elvis team to adapt at least a little, and much of this material sounds
relatively passable for the early rock music era. With a new haircut, lightly
foreshadowing the «comeback Elvis» style; a new producer (Jeff Alexander, who
had previously composed the instrumental score to a few of his better movies,
including <i>Jailhouse Rock</i>); and a
slightly higher rate of solid songwriters than usual, <b>Double Trouble</b> is... well, still a disappointment, but not nearly
as much of a disappointment as it could have been under different
circumstances.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I do believe that the many one-star ratings for
the LP generally have to do with the presence of ʽOld MacDonaldʼ. Rather
arrogantly credited to the infamous «songwriting dentist» Randy Starr because
some of the old lyrics have been changed to make the song more «edgy», it is,
once again, something perfectly acceptable if it were spontaneously delivered
during some drunken binge with Elvisʼ friends, but certainly not in the context
of an album promising healthy, wholesome entertainment, whatever that might
mean. The song proudly takes its place next to ʽPetunia, The Gardenerʼs
Daughterʼ, ʽQueenie Wahineʼs Papayaʼ, and other similar mega-embarrassments of
the Kingʼs career — and not, of course, due to the fact that Elvis chose to
perform a generic nursery rhyme, but precisely because he chose to perform it
as a pseudo-humorous «adult take» on a generic nursery rhyme, one of those
vaudeville travesties for which many, many grown-up persons have already been
condemned to eternal flames of Hell.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
But that is just one song, and although the
soundtrack has a few other moments of blatant corn (Tepper and Bennettʼs ʽI
Love Only One Girlʼ, a new and stupid English translation of the French
chanson-cum-military-march ʽLe Prisonnier De Hollandeʼ, is the second worst
offender), on the whole it turns out to be surprisingly listenable, and in a
few places even unpredictable. The title track, written by Pomus and Shuman, is
harmless cocky Tom Jones-y jazz-pop; the ever-reliable Joy Byers comes up with
the predictably derivative ʽBaby, If Youʼll Give Me All Of Your Loveʼ, a fast,
driving song that is melodically reminiscent of ʽWear My Ring Around Your
Neckʼ; and John Leslie McFarlandʼs ʽLong Legged Girlʼ is as good a Little
Richard pastiche as probably was physically possible at the time, though the
frantic rocker could have benefited from removing its horns and throwing on
some electric guitar licks instead — after all, the song does begin with a few
gruff, distorted guitar chords, though they strangely never appear again after
the opening five seconds. At least, it wasnʼt the worst possible choice for a
single.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
The <i>real</i>
surprise of the entire project, though, is ʽCity By Nightʼ, a rather unusual
creation from the very usual songwriting team of Baum, Giant, and Kaye. It is
essentially a jazz serenade, a bit Duke Ellington-style, perhaps, with some
nifty trombone parts and a smoky midnight vibe — a cliché in itself, perhaps,
but still cooler and edgier than the usual corny vaudeville stuff they typically
served to Elvis. The fact that this tune, clearly the winner of the entire game
on here, is immediately followed by ʽOld MacDonaldʼ, only goes to show how much
of a roulette wheel Elvisʼ career was at this point — nobody really gave a
damn, which is really the main reason why it is a bit fascinating to be
checking all those soundtracks in retrospect: you never know when exactly you
are going to fall upon that single pearl amidst all the manure, but even if the
pearl never comes, the manure in question comes in so many different forms and
flavors that you cannot deny the element of a very perverse intrigue in here.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Another good thing is that the soundtrack was
so short they had to, once again, pad it out with some oldies scooped up from
past sessions — including, among a few lesser selections, ʽBlue Riverʼ, an old
and nearly lost B-side from 1963 which, along with ʽLittle Sisterʼ, is probably
Elvisʼ most rocking and fun early Sixties song. Fast, sharp, fully
guitar-based, with a couple kick-ass solo breaks (from Hank Garland, probably),
its two minutes kick the ass of each single «rocker» on here by reminding you
that there used to be a time when Elvisʼ rockʼnʼroll was <i>not</i> coated over with production glitz, and that bits and pieces of
that time did survive well into the early Sixties. Sure, the song really has no
business being on here, but at least this gives me a good pretext to mention it
— without having to dig up compilations.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Oh, and, obviously, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Double Trouble</b> was the soundtrack to an actual movie, but this time
around, I forgot to look up the plot. Allegedly, itʼs a «comedy-thriller» with
a slightly unusual plot for Elvis (the original script was written with Julie
Christie rather than Elvis in mind!), so it might be worth a look for, I dunno,
fans of the classic James Bond stylistics or something. Me, Iʼm just paying
attention to that haircut.</span></div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-59646161853397190452020-07-26T23:48:00.000+03:002020-07-26T23:48:01.247+03:00Pixies: Trompe Le Monde<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGqH85_Pas8qx-BZWwVz0cdIXTfmEfa4-dXsIQPYlBHlf6x2W7Fz_gOZU4hExCdYm9cR7e6ZjoKw5L_njPIs2IZe-IXOO-JoPJr4dsX4OAh11DJIM1hjxWrKgJb8yB_cpB1we8zZ2brVM/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGqH85_Pas8qx-BZWwVz0cdIXTfmEfa4-dXsIQPYlBHlf6x2W7Fz_gOZU4hExCdYm9cR7e6ZjoKw5L_njPIs2IZe-IXOO-JoPJr4dsX4OAh11DJIM1hjxWrKgJb8yB_cpB1we8zZ2brVM/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">PIXIES: TROMPE LE MONDE<span style="letter-spacing: -.1pt;">
(1991)</span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><span style="letter-spacing: -.1pt;"><br /></span></span></b>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) Trompe Le Monde; 2) Planet Of Sound; 3) Alec
Eiffel; 4) The Sad Punk; 5) Head On; 6) U-Mass; 7) Palace Of The Brine; 8)
Letter To Memphis; 9) Bird Dream Of The Olympus Mons; 10) Space (I Believe In);
11) Subbacultcha; 12) Distance Equals Rate Times Time; 13) Lovely Day; 14)
Motorway To Roswell; 15) The Navajo Know.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: yellow; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">The Pixies get themselves a solid rocking sound for
their swan song, but oddly sacrifice the hooks in favor of somewhat
old-fashioned power-pop energy.</span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: yellow; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></i></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I wish I could continue the analogy that was
dropped in the previous review and treat <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Trompe
Le Monde</b> as Pixiesʼ <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Abbey Road</b>,
but, in all honesty, this record is just a tad short of such a status. Perhaps
a better analogy would be Pixiesʼ <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Let It
Be</b>, since <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Trompe Le Monde</b>, too,
seems to be driven by one manʼs desire to move a little closer to «the roots»
and produce something a little more spontaneous, more wild, more rocking than
usual. This is unquestionably the bandʼs loudest, most abrazive album, one on
which they end up sounding influenced by Cheap Trick far more often than they
do by Talking Heads; and while this is definitely not a problem in the large
scheme of things — after all, the Pixies are a fuckinʼ <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">rock</i> band, are they not? — it does result in a certain lack of
subtlety, and in the band occasionally slipping into the world of fairly
generic rock clichés (at least, musical; «message-wise», <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Trompe Le Monde</b> is still as idiosyncratically Pixies-ish as it gets).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Arguably the main reason why <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Trompe Le Monde</b>, good as it is, is
still the weakest Pixies album is that it is not too much of a Pixies album —
it is more of a Frank Black solo album with guest musicians Kim Deal and Joey
Santiago. Kim has no compositions of her own here (not sure if she was blocked
by Francis or if she simply was saving them all for future Breeders records),
no lead vocals, relatively few backing vocals, and even her bass lines are often
relegated to purely supportive roles. And Joey, while still an essential
contributor to the psychedelic textures of the music, has nowhere near as many
memorable lead parts as he used to. For the most part, this is a Frank Black
show all the way — his chugging rhythms, his weird vocal hooks, his twisted
sense of humor, and his pissed-off attitude, of which we seem to be receiving a
mighty huge dose here. You never really saw the Pixies in such a jerky mood
throughout, believe me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">To try to understand what they were really
going for on this album, it might make sense to begin with a comparison of
their unexpected cover of The Jesus And Mary Chainʼs ʽHead Onʼ with the
original. The most surprising thing is that although the cover postdates the
original by two years, it actually sounds <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">retro-fied</i>:
the JAMC version, with its heavy echo on the vocals and the drums, is
immediately datable to the Eighties, while the Pixies here make it sound <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">exactly</i> like a Cheap Trick song circa
1977-78, with those thick, glammy guitar tones, exuberant
barman-give-me-one-more-drink lead vocals, and a
we-want-it-louder-than-everyone-else attitude. Could it be that a band whose
purpose once seemed to be to push classic pop-rock in a futuristic direction is
now showing signs of repentance, looking back at the old school glam-rock and
punk-rock of the mid-Seventies as a key reference point? And could this
«nostalgic reinvention» of a contemporary alt-rock hit be their flagman
statement about it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The thought hits harder when you combine it
with all that anger captured on the record — anger clearly directed at none
other than a large chunk of the Pixiesʼ own core audiences. Two songs stand out
particularly in that respect, both of them well-known highlights of the album.
One is, of course, ʽSubbacultchaʼ, an unusually straightforward (for Black)
indictment of «club culture» as an excuse to find oneself a hot piece of ass —
and set, might I add, to a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very</i>
clearly retro melody, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">very</i>
reminiscent of the Modern Loversʼ ʽPablo Picassoʼ, except that first-rate
production allows each rhythm and lead note to cut even sharper than Jonathan
Richmanʼs band. The other one is ʽU-Massʼ, an even more vicious assault on the
phoney varieties of progressive student subculture which Iʼm <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sure</i> all their student audience must
have loved with the exact same abandon that the Ramonesʼ core audience
displayed while gleefully bopping along to ʽCretin Hopʼ and ʽTeenage Lobotomyʼ.
The songʼs melody has been often compared to ʽSmells Like Teen Spiritʼ (itʼs
funny that <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Nevermind</b> and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Trompe Le Monde</b> were released with one
dayʼs difference), but Pixies donʼt do achingly desperate grunge — they do
deeply sarcastic grunge, and they play it here in such a way that the guitar
chords are just as reminiscent of AC/DC and ZZ Top as they are of their own
contemporary alt-rock scene.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">None of this is to say that the Pixies have
somehow turned into some sort of conservative musical reactionaries overnight.
The music on the whole, be it the production, or the inventive weaving
techniques between Black and Santiago, cannot be dismissed as a return to stale
clichés; and the elements of vitriolic criticism against the bandʼs own
breeding grounds still count as occasional blips among the usual sea of random
impressionist imagery that covers territory all the way from the Eiffel Tower
(ʽAlec Eiffelʼ) to Native American legends (ʽThe Navajo Knowsʼ). Whatever be
the case, it is not very likely that a band with such a history as the Pixies
could turn around and start churning out «generic rockʼnʼroll». The biggest
problem is that by concentrating too much on rocking out and venting off, the
Pixies slightly lost their grip on their legendary ability to create instantly
captivating pop hooks. Even after a whole bunch of listens to the album, my
mind <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">still</i> tends to remember much of
it as a rather messy and monotonous sonic glop, instead of building a separate
cozy cottage for each individual song.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Personally, I very much miss the stylistic
diversity of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Bossanova</b> — there are,
for instance, absolutely no moments of tender, subtle beauty of the ʽAnaʼ or
ʽHavalinaʼ type here; not a single song, in fact, that could be labeled as a
«ballad». The closest they get to being a little romantic here is on ʽMotorway
To Roswellʼ, a winding epic about an alien beingʼs tragic death in an accident
that does not really deserve its five-minute length — but even that one is
ultimately so loud and crunchy that even its nicely placed piano flourish in
the coda does not do much by way of reminding us of how tender Frank Black and
the boys can be when a certain muse grabs them by the spleen. Not here. Not
this time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">If you have not yet heard the album and these
several paragraphs happen to be discouraging you from checking it out, though,
do not be discouraged — just take a quick listen to the title track, since I
think that those minute and forty seconds are perfectly representative of the
album as a whole. Some thick, speedy, mammoth riffage; some flashy psychedelic
guitar leads; some quirky changes in tempo; some cosmic lyrics delivered with the
appropriate cosmic vocals. Itʼs a cool sound, and one that hasnʼt dated one bit
in thirty years — you still have indie kids doing this kind of music to this
very day. But it hasnʼt really got much to latch on to, does it? No "my
boneʼs got a little machine" or "debaser, debaser!" or even a "Caribo-o-o-u!"
to it. Sadly, the same type of impression applies to a good half of the album.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">That said, let me quickly list a few songs
which are right up there with the very best that Pixies ever put out. ʽAlec Eiffelʼ
is a modest masterpiece of speedy pop-rock, sounding like a future blueprint
for every fast Arcade Fire song ever made. ʽLovely Dayʼ takes the bass line of ʽYou
Canʼt Hurry Loveʼ, gives it a little twist and briefly turns the Pixies into a «dark
side of Motown» band. But where they really pull all the stops is on ʽSpace (I Believe
In)ʼ, a one-of-a-kind mix of grunge, Goth, and psychedelic elements with the
most brutally honest lyrics in the universe: "We needed something to move
and fill up the space / We needed something — this always is just the case".
As you can see, itʼs not about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cosmic</i>
space, itʼs all about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">filler</i> space, and
somehow in this weird and wild universe the song that was most likely written
on the spot to fill space ended up being the best number on the entire album. How
can you ever forget "JEFREY WITH ONE 'F', JEFREY! JEFREY WITH ONE 'F',
JEFREY!"? (Allegedly, the tablas guy who they got to play with them on the
song was actually called Jef Feldman, with one 'f').<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Okay, that wasnʼt <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">too</i> many songs, but the truth is, while I actually enjoy most of
the album, somehow numbers such as ʽLetter To Memphisʼ just do not stimulate me
to come up with any brilliant ideas, if you know what I mean. Quite a few
people are ready to swear by <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Trompe Le Monde</b>
as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the</i> crowning moment of glory for
the band, which stumps me — is this because of all the loudness and distortion?
Because the actual songwriting is rather lazy, to be honest. One commenter on Mark
Prindleʼs old review site actually confessed to loving the album because it was
«MEAN and UGLY» where the previous ones were «CUTE and CLEVER» — I think this
is a fairly appropriate description as far as minimalistic descriptions go, but
maybe the problem is that a lot of other bands can be MEAN and UGLY like the Pixies,
but very, very few can be CUTE and CLEVER like the Pixies. Just about anybody
could come up with songs like ʽPlanet Of Soundʼ or ʽThe Sad Punkʼ (check out
the career of Art Brut, for instance), but who the heck could come up with
another ʽWave Of Mutilationʼ? Nobody has, so far.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As the final brick in the bandʼs classic house,
though, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Trompe Le Monde</b> makes
perfect sense: it has a sound all its own, and its raging energy guaranteed
that the band would go out on a pretty powerful, if not particularly inventive,
note. It was never specially planned as a swan song, and it does not sound like
a swan song, but itʼs better to go out with a bang than a whimper in any case. Itʼs
like ʽMotorway To Roswellʼ is an allegory for their entire journey — <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Trompe Le Monde</b> is really the sound of
the Pixiesʼ little flying saucer entering the atmosphere at full speed and
burning up before it ever has the chance to land. I only wish I could enjoy the
individual songs as much as I respect the overall idea of the album, but perhaps
it is an unfortunate effect of not having had the chance to enjoy it back in
1991 — my ear being subsequently spoilt with way too much bombastic indie rock that
was probably influenced by it. Then again, as I said, way too much of this
album actually sounds like stuff that came <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">before</i>
it, so itʼs all really part of that one big food chain, and maybe it is just
that this particular link does not feel particularly outstanding in the larger
context of swallowing and digesting.</span> </div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: yellow; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span></i></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-59003158578763629372020-07-20T17:32:00.005+03:002020-07-20T17:32:51.398+03:00Elvis Presley: How Great Thou Art<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv9fdmIc8JMdVAyl00YSjV88BrAd-6052Ws8RpyvG2dxg2g0g6RbfXlE35Avn41Z50q22zJATMHkL4eUMlVAQQmHJKa2BB1eEKX9mHrdL5xTZrawEBmDfvVp9Y7NDVMi6X4ysCc-YkuR4/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv9fdmIc8JMdVAyl00YSjV88BrAd-6052Ws8RpyvG2dxg2g0g6RbfXlE35Avn41Z50q22zJATMHkL4eUMlVAQQmHJKa2BB1eEKX9mHrdL5xTZrawEBmDfvVp9Y7NDVMi6X4ysCc-YkuR4/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">ELVIS PRESLEY: HOW GREAT THOU ART (1967)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></b>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) How Great Thou Art; 2) In The Garden; 3) Somebody
Bigger Than You And I; 4) Farther Along; 5) Stand By Me; 6) Without Him; 7) So High;
8) Where Could I Go But To The Lord; 9) By And By; 10) If The Lord Wasnʼt Walking
By My Side; 11) Run On; 12) Where No One Stands Alone; 13) Crying In The Chapel.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: yellow;">Feels almost like the real thing —
definitely as close to «true gospel» as the man would ever get. Who needs
psychedelia when you have the King on your side?</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: yellow;"><br /></span></i></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Once again, context is everything. Surrounded
by the Kingʼs golden great rockʼnʼroll classics, this album would have probably
seemed underwhelming in comparison, particularly to a not particularly
religious conscience (like mine). But surrounded on both chronological sides
with Elvisʼ soundtrack fluff, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">How Great Thou
Art</b> is not simply a breath of fresh air — it literally towers over all of
that crap as a genuine artistic masterpiece.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">One thing is for sure: it is definitely the
most creative, curious, and deeply felt of his three gospel albums. The main
problem with <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">His Hand In Mine</b> was
that it was really a «gospel» album only on the surface: at heart, it was
really an album of sentimental crooning balladry — nice and well-meaning, but
way too slight to evoke a properly spiritual response. With this experience —
and let us not forget that it was actually Elvisʼ first proper new album in
five years — it feels as if the man had actually realized that himself, and
tried to rise up to the challenge of creating a true gospel experience this
time. With a brand new producer (Felton Jarvis), a set of tunes that Elvis mostly
picked out himself rather than had imposed on him, an actual gospel quartet joining
him for backup (The Imperials), and even a set of arrangements for traditional
tunes credited to Elvis Presley in person, he clearly wanted to make something
different, and he largely succeeded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Even the track order matters here: instead of
being interspersed with each other as they were on <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">His Hand In Mine</b>, here the slow and solemn hymns are all put
together on the first side, while the fast and ruckus-raising spirituals are
confined to Side B. This creates a risk of bringing on monotonous boredom, but
it also eliminates the risk of «mood killing», and at least on the first side —
the most interesting one, if you ask me — the approach pays off well. Two
things are immediately noticeable — a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">huge</i>
emphasis on keyboards, usually piano and more rarely organ, with far more
sophisticated and tempestuous arrangements than before; and a new sort of depth
and seriousness to Elvisʼ singing, as he goes lower than he has done in years,
generally refraining from sensual crooning and going for something more «earthy»,
if you know what I mean.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Of those six opening songs, the unhurried
waltzing of ʽFarther Alongʼ is my favorite — maybe because of the lyrics, whose
significance goes far beyond simplistic Christian conventions, or maybe because
somehow Elvis manages to turn it almost personal; it is interesting that if you
compare the song to other versions, from the Byrds all the way to Brad Paisley,
Elvisʼ one actually <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">omits</i> the
decisive third verse (basically the one that states how Jesus is going to solve
all your problems) and only includes the first two (listing the actual problems).
Whatever be the actual truth, the gut impression is that of a tired, exhausted,
but still deeply optimistic person quietly praying for alleviation — almost
like a veiled cry for help, which comes across as doubly significant if you are
aware of the context in which these sessions were held.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">But there are other highlights, too. The title
track has an interesting construction, starting out without a rhythm section,
just wave upon wave of impressionistic piano playing and occasional
thunder-imitating drumrolls, then smoothly transitioning into another anthemic
waltz with huge booming choruses, subtly attenuated by an uncredited string
section. And ʽSomebody Bigger Than You And Iʼ may be seen as an early precursor
to Elvisʼ bigger-than-life, ʽSuspicious Mindsʼ et al. style, but still with
much more restraint than most of his Vegas-style material, probably because most
of the «pomp» is generated by the loudness of the Imperialsʼ backing vocals and
the mighty organ, rather than glitzy strings and horns.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The second side of the album, opening with the
fast-paced ʽSo Highʼ and rarely losing the tempo, is not as sonically
interesting, but you could still argue that there is more genuine rockʼnʼroll
energy and inspiration in songs like ʽSo Highʼ and ʽRun Onʼ than in all of the
manʼs soundtracks from the previous couple of years combined. ʽBy And Byʼ actually
features fuzzy electric guitar riffage (!), while ʽRun Onʼ (more commonly known
as ʽGodʼs Gonna Cut You Downʼ, but they probably wanted to avoid unnecessarily
violent connotations on the album sleeve) cannot exactly hope to compete with
the ground-shaking intensity of a Blind Willie Johnson, but still winds the man
up tighter and tenser than anything since the days of ʽReady Teddyʼ. ITʼS ALIVE!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Naturally, one should not get <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">too</i> excited: Elvis still hasnʼt become a
true gospel prophet, and there are one too many slow waltzing tempos on here to
insist that the gospel theme might be used here as just a vehicle for experimentation
and rejuvenation. And coming out with even a good gospel album in 1967, the
year of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sgt. Pepper</b>, was hardly the
right move to re-establish a good working relation with the progressive critical
minds. Yet it is quite clear that here, for the second time in a row after the (very
relative) freshness of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Spinout</b>, was
something that the King did not need to be ashamed of — so, for all purposes,
we might as well consider that the manʼs actual «comeback» starts <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">here</i>, rather than with the «comeback
special» and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">In Memphis</b>, even if we
would still have to deal with more soundtrack embarrassments in between.</span> </div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: yellow;"></span></i></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-72420176722193990452020-07-12T23:57:00.000+03:002020-07-12T23:57:00.397+03:00Pixies: Bossanova<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4WySecyzZOnHGK8KlXfrWacba1jNnYNT6DIPlT4nQshDNSct_rtAKFLdPlaRZrHYl00mtptt0rVk3ZpVx07Xe7cym5XrYHFWofGCEkFEzhdCDDmCgRrSR87O823deDebfBkFvXZ0zlFQ/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4WySecyzZOnHGK8KlXfrWacba1jNnYNT6DIPlT4nQshDNSct_rtAKFLdPlaRZrHYl00mtptt0rVk3ZpVx07Xe7cym5XrYHFWofGCEkFEzhdCDDmCgRrSR87O823deDebfBkFvXZ0zlFQ/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">PIXIES: BOSSANOVA<span style="letter-spacing: -.1pt;"> (1990)</span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><span style="letter-spacing: -.1pt;"><br /></span></span></b>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) Cecilia Ann; 2) Rock Music; 3) <span style="color: red;">Velouria</span>; 4) Allison; 5) <span style="color: red;">Is
She Weird</span>; 6) <span style="color: red;">Ana</span>; 7) All Over The World;
8) Dig For Fire; 9) Down To The Well; 10) The Happening; 11) Blown Away; 12)
Hang Wire; 13) Stormy Weather; 14) Havalina.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: #ffc000; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">The Pixies get more soulful, serious, and nostalgic,
sacrificing some of their punchy adolescence as their generation ship crosses
into the next galaxy.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: #ffc000; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></i></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Pixiesʼ third album sometimes gets a bad rap
because it clearly fails to reinvent the world of music the same way that <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Doolittle</b> did — and it is hardly a
coincidence that, for the first time in their relatively short life, the band
had hardly any well-gestated material left in stock, and often had to improvise
right in the studio. Indeed, next to the total unpredictability and diversity
of the previous two albums, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Bossanova</b>
might come across as a somewhat monotonous, sludgy, rock-oriented experience.
But I personally feel that if <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Doolittle</b>
was their <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sgt. Pepper</b>, then <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Bossanova</b>, in some ways, stands up to
being regarded as their <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">White Album</b>
— a record on which the greatest band of its generation has absolutely nothing
left to prove and simply resorts to having as much creative fun as possible.
Sometimes it works, occasionally it doesnʼt, but the inspiration never stops,
and the juice just keeps on flowinʼ.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It is not the happiest-sounding Pixies album,
though, that is for sure. Much of the bandʼs humour has only been preserved in
the form of ironic viciousness, and there are overtones of melancholia,
nostalgia, and acute yearning for some better place to be (from ʽVelouriaʼ to
ʽHavalinaʼ). Throw in the total lack of kick-ass fast tempo rockers, the
prevalence of sludgy proto-grunge mid-tempo guitar melodies, and the fact that
Kim Deal has largely been pushed into the background (admittedly, she did save
all her songwriting ideas for the Breeders at the time), and it is easy to
understand why some people might need quite a bit of time to get into this
record. But do trust me, it is very worth getting into in the end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Amusingly, there seems to be not one, but <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">two</i> introductions to the album — a
ʽForewordʼ and a ʽPrefaceʼ, if you will. The first one is ʽCecilia Annʼ, a
cover of an old instrumental by The Surftones which gave the entire record its
reputation as the Pixiesʼ «surf-rock album», despite the fact that there had
always been a huge surf influence on Pixiesʼ music and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Bossanova</b> hardly seems to capitalize on it any more than any other
Pixies album. What they do to the tune, by fattening up its guitar tones and
putting the rhythm section into an almost heavy-metallic overdrive, is prove
what Quentin Tarantino said about surf music — that to him, surf music had
always been more about Clint Eastwood in an Ennio Morricone-orchestrated movie
than about actual surfing. Itʼs catchy, itʼs fun, itʼs danceable, but it also
has DRAMA, and the Pixies cram as much epos and pathos into these galloping two
minutes as possible. Once the two minutes are up, you have been mentally
prepared to, maybe, take this upcoming stuff a little bit more seriously than
ever before... and the lack of vocals, which always raise the bar on quirkiness
and playfulness in the Pixiesʼ case, is also quite important.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The vocals do appear on the second introductory
track, seductively titled ʽRock Musicʼ — but you will never understand a word
they say, because the entire track is like a drunk antithesis to the tight
cohesiveness of ʽCecilia Annʼ: with its endless distorted droning riff,
continuously wailing monotonous lead guitar, and hardcore screaming all over
the studio, it veers on the edge of self-parody, or, if not, at least on the
edge of total irony in the face of «rock music» as an artistic concept. As a
song, itʼs not much — more like a relentless wall of noise whose «anger» is a
bona fide theatrical performance destined to undermine and expose the
credibility of «anger» in music itself (a technique that would later be adopted
by Ween in their arsenal). But at the same time it is also a sign that the
Pixies are not afraid to «mature» by adhering to deeper layers of production
and even fatter guitar tones, and by making their music less prone to being
denounced as juvenile novelty garbage (if you ever had that temptation, that
is).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">That sign kind of comes in handy as you proceed
on down the line. The first real Pixies song (and the first real classic) on
here is ʽVelouriaʼ, announced by grungy power chords worthy of the Seattle
scene rather than the Boston one — yet just a few seconds later it becomes
clear that this is still a typical romantic Pixies anthem, with a lead guitar
line that is more Beethoven than Kurt Cobain and vocals that have more
blue-eyed soul in them than hardcore growling. Melodically, it seems to be distantly
related to ʽWave Of Mutilationʼ, but the vocals and that wailing lead line give
it a more intimate, serenade-like feel, something youʼd probably expect
delivered from one star-crossʼd lover to another, especially if the romance
took place on a planet where they actually name girls ʽVelouriaʼ. The lyrics
donʼt mean much — just grab on to bits and pieces like "hold my head,
weʼll trampoline" and "we will wade in the shine of the ever"
and thatʼs all you need to request the song for your wedding ceremony, really.
The weird thing is, it actually sounds like a genuine, serious, heartwarming
love song — even if, on a formal level, the band does not step outside their
post-modern conventions at all. I can smirk at this song and I can feel
cathartic at the same time — few bands can manage that feat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Each and every song that follows ʽVelouriaʼ has
something to offer, some cute or crazy idea that might seem genius or stupid
but actually makes you notice it and evaluate it. These cute or crazy ideas
somehow seem largely equivalent to me, so I do not really have any favorites —
in terms of pure moronic catchiness, though, the golden bough goes to ʽIs She
Weirdʼ, a song whose "is she weird, is she white, is she promised to the
night?" has graced my shower one too many times, and whose words, mood,
and playful mystique make it a great candidate for some <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Witcher</i>-themed video, or at least a self-made voodoo ritual. Then
again, they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">are</i> pixies, and itʼs high
time they did a creepy counting-out rhyme for the midnight hour. Again, no true
innovations here — Santiagoʼs twangy guitar lines weave around Kimʼs pounding
hammer bass more or less the same way they did from the very start — but no
previous Pixies song truly sounded this ghostly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The rest of the songs I will go over quickly,
especially since thereʼs so many of them. ʽAllisonʼ is a minute-long nursery
rhyme whose point is to rhyme ʽAllisonʼ with "hit the sun", and I
approve. ʽAnaʼ is a softer, surfier sequel to ʽVelouriaʼ, with gorgeous lead
guitar lines that are almost too well-defined and memorable for the songʼs
dream-pop textures (if somebody tells you that all dream-pop just has to be
atmospheric and squishy and slipping through your brain, shut them up with this
song). ʽAll Over The Worldʼ sounds like something Iʼd like to take with me on a
generation starship ("with a pet at my side, God in the sky...") —
and clocking in at 5:30, it feels almost like the Pixiesʼ own little
progressive rock epic; at the very least, the looping "all my thoughts /
all I am / are my thoughts" bit is their personal mantra and the closest,
so far, they got to turning their music into a (post-modern) religious
ceremony.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Of their second single, ʽDig For Fireʼ, I can
only say that it is a curious way to merge a very Talking Heads-sounding verse
(funky guitar weaving, ʽOnce In A Lifetimeʼ-style sloganeering vocals and all
that) with a Madchester-influenced chorus — Talking Heads meet Stone Roses —
and although Frank Black himself later dismissed the song as a «bad Talking
Heads imitation», I think the combination of the cryptic verse with the
heavenly chorus still works. ʽDown To The Wellʼ is probably the albumʼs laziest
song, but even here I like the mock-silliness of the melodic resolution, in
which "...she went down to the WELL!" is delivered with such a
gleefully demonic attitude that you quickly understand WELL is really just a
euphemism for HELL. After this, ʽThe Happeningʼ delivers yet another nice
melodic contrast — a strange swampy sound for the verse and a high-pitched,
totally stoned psychodrone for the bridge, with the lyrics eventually turning
to something that feels like rejected outtakes from an early draft of ʽBob
Dylanʼs 115th Dreamʼ ("I was driving doing nothing on the shores of Great
Salt Lake...").<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Skipping over two more tracks, we have a
symmetric ending for the album with not one, but two outros. The «proper»
ending is ʽStormy Weatherʼ, a track that could pretty much serve as the
blueprint for all classic Brian Jonestown Massacre material — a slow, lazy,
repetitive retro-Sixties psycho-party vibe with a hip (post-)modern
sensibility; silly and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">way</i> too
rowdy-sailorish for Pixies, but if these guys just wonʼt be pigeonholed, so be
it. And then, for the ʽGood Nightʼ encore you get ʽHavalinaʼ — smooth, tender,
full of classy romantic guitar lines, escapist as heck and a great reminder of
how sentimental this band really is at heart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">At the end of the day, there is no dazzling,
teasing flame at the heart of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Bossanova</b>;
it does not even try to recreate the infectiousness of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Doolittle</b>, and it does show the band falling back just a little bit
too strong on past musical formulae — again, much like the Beatles did with the
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">White Album</b>, or like the Heads did
on <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Speaking In Tongues</b> and their
later albums. But the bandʼs overall vision, their sense of humour and their
ability to make even clichéd musical ideas sound interesting once again are
fully intact. And this additional touch of maturity might actually allow some
people to develop a tighter emotional band with the album than any before it —
ʽVelouriaʼ and ʽAnaʼ, in particular, have an aura of sincere gorgeousness that
would still be unthinkable on the much more playful and sarcastic plains of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Surfer Rosa</b> and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Doolittle</b>. The best news is, in keeping up with Great Band
Reputation, no two Pixies albums (at least, from their classic era) sound alike
— well, best for those of us who value experimentation and diversity over
sticking to the exact same formula, at least.</span> </div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: #ffc000; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span></i></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-73908330041726392322020-07-07T00:18:00.001+03:002020-07-07T00:18:07.229+03:00Elvis Presley: Spinout<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPdjhrh781jJ4wlm5yXbJGKEQKDtUeEySeSwssBB8X00Wu9eCGwmvAehdgXzvVXNj_2GdFryilkPehB0GEhyphenhyphenoIUKh6OE_l73lNez4OeHcjg6G-ovGGs1vGda337UtFxhw7WUlG6dQMJpA/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPdjhrh781jJ4wlm5yXbJGKEQKDtUeEySeSwssBB8X00Wu9eCGwmvAehdgXzvVXNj_2GdFryilkPehB0GEhyphenhyphenoIUKh6OE_l73lNez4OeHcjg6G-ovGGs1vGda337UtFxhw7WUlG6dQMJpA/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">ELVIS PRESLEY: SPINOUT (1966)</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) Stop, Look And Listen; 2) Adam And Evil; 3)
All That I Am; 4) Never Say Yes; 5) Am I Ready; 6) Beach Shack; 7) Spinout; 8)
Smorgasbord; 9) Iʼll Be Back; 10) Tomorrow Is A Long Time; 11) Down In The
Alley; 12) Iʼll Remember You.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: yellow;">A slightly outstanding soundtrack in that it
at least briefly acknowledges the arrival of a new musical era with new musical
values.</span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Oh wow, there are actual signs of life here! Do
not get your hopes up too much — we are talking just a few relatively bright
spots in a stable sea of hogwash, nothing close to a true «comeback»; but the
objective facts are such that the soundtrack to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Spinout</i> is Elvisʼ first ever album to acknowledge, one way or the
other, that the world of music <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did</i>
actually move on since the days of Frankie Avalon. Maybe we should thank George
Stoll, who had earlier produced the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Viva
Las Vegas</b> soundtrack as well, or maybe we should be grateful to the
particularly odious Giant / Baum / Kaye songwriting team for only contributing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">one</i> stupid corny tune this time around
(the tropical sex anthem ʽBeach Shackʼ) — whatever the matter, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Spinout</b> is almost inarguably the
strongest of all of Elvisʼ mid-to-late-Sixties soundtracks. This is not saying
all that much, but it is definitely saying <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The good news are announced with the very first
track: ʽStop, Look And Listenʼ (written by the generally reliable Joy Byers) is
a lighthearted, but sharp-sounding pop rocker, certainly more appropriate for a
go-go girls performance on <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Shindig!</i>
than for the Monterey Festival, but played with genuine rockʼnʼroll verve <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> featuring what should qualify as an
«experimental» guitar solo for Elvis — played by Tommy Tedesco, I believe,
through a Leslie speaker or something. No, itʼs not amazing by any means, but
hearing this kind of sound after half a dozen completely retrograde soundtracks
is such a drink of cool, clear water that I am <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">almost</i> ready to forgive this album any of its upcoming sins in
advance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Fortunately, ʽStop, Look And Listenʼ is not
just a fluke: throughout the album, one continuously encounters traces of
decent contemporary production and convincing atmosphere. The Pomus-Shuman
composition ʽNever Say Yesʼ is just a slice of standard Bo Diddley beat, but
when it is delivered with crackling, fuzzy rhythm guitar at a head-spinning
fast tempo, then even the Kingʼs ever-softening voice starts regaining certain
powerful overtones, almost forgotten after hours and hours of consuming Queenie
Wahineʼs papayas. The title track brings back the tastefully treated electric
guitar of ʽStop, Look And Listenʼ, and although it is essentially a Tom
Jones-style cabaret number, at least its somber swagginess finally sounds in
step with the times. Finally, ʽIʼll Be Backʼ is a generic mid-tempo
blues-rocker, graced with lively backing vocals, screechy guitars, and even a
few shadows of Elvisʼold rockabilly voice, with those almost forgotten
alternations of exuberant high and somber low that heʼd largely left behind in
the Fifties.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">While everything else on the soundtrack proper
is largely forgettable (but usually not horrible), the main attention has
always been tied to tracks tacked on at the end which had no relation to the
movie at all — such as a quality cover of The Cloversʼ old hit ʽDown In The
Alleyʼ, and, most importantly, a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">five-minute
long</i> (!) acoustic cover of Bob Dylanʼs old song ʽTomorrow Is A Long Timeʼ,
which Dylan allegedly referred to as the one cover of a song of his that he "treasured
the most" — of course, everything Bob ever said in his life always has to
be taken tongue-in-cheek, but it is worth noting that he said this in 1969, the
year of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Nashville Skyline</b>, and that
his own soft and crooning vocal tone on that album, amusingly, was quite
similar in mood and overtones to Elvisʼ voice on this soft and crooning cover. Besides,
five minutes long! <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Five</i>! The longest Elvis
song up to that point was ʽOld Shepʼ, and even that one was just four. If that
ainʼt sufficient homage to one of the greatest post-Elvis forces in music, I
donʼt know what is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I will not spoil the positive impression by
discussing the flaws of particularly inferior songs on the album — just
reiterate that they are not enough to spoil the overall fun, but also state
that you can really only taste that fun in full if, like me, you have
previously sat through <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Harum Scarum</b>,
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Frankie And Johnny</b> and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Paradise Hawaiian Style</b> in a row. Look,
even that sleeve photo is an upgrade — for the first time in at least three or
four years, there is a slightly vivacious glint in the manʼs eyes, as if there
was something out there on the horizon that finally piqued his interest. Alas,
time would show that this was all an accident, but it wouldnʼt be the only one —
and, after all, you can only stay under the water so long before you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have</i> to come up for at least one or two
quick gulps of fresh air. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Spinout</b> is
one such gulp.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-65238883347026734722020-06-29T12:45:00.003+03:002020-06-29T12:45:40.745+03:00Elvis Presley: Paradise, Hawaiian Style<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjujDWZBl1K3C3FIOdueei7q-b8-lGZe894OUD2v7aKRy2lLf2m3XD_xVTHYT-W_74Y6SBcD41lSiqivGOs-zZPSqsUX_CM0NGSleJhDRpQKENvauPUmaNWOHxPTZj34P41sQSCIAP-ShI/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjujDWZBl1K3C3FIOdueei7q-b8-lGZe894OUD2v7aKRy2lLf2m3XD_xVTHYT-W_74Y6SBcD41lSiqivGOs-zZPSqsUX_CM0NGSleJhDRpQKENvauPUmaNWOHxPTZj34P41sQSCIAP-ShI/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">ELVIS PRESLEY: PARADISE, HAWAIIAN STYLE (1966)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></b>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) Paradise, Hawaiian Style; 2) Queenie Wahineʼs
Papaya; 3) Scratch My Back; 4) Drums Of The Islands; 5) Datinʼ; 6) A Dogʼs
Life; 7) House Of Sand; 8) Stop Where You Are; 9) This Is My Heaven; 10) Sand
Castles.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: #00b050;">The good news is that there is not as much
«Hawaiian Style» here as you might be afraid to expect. The bad news is thereʼs
not much style here, period.</span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: #00b050;"><br /></span></i></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Looking at Elvisʼ serious expression on the
album sleeve while listening to the music concealed within, I canʼt help but
feeling like now I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">finally</i>
understand, after all these years, what Rodinʼs <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Thinker</i> is thinking about after all. Beyond any doubt, what is
troubling him is the most urgent, most important, most cosmic question of them
all — does Queenie Wahineʼs Papaya <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">truly</i>
rate higher than pineapple, pumpkin, or poy? And if we pick her papaya and
hencewith play the game "Existence" to the end, are we truly
guaranteed to put Queenie Wahine in perfect perpetual joy?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Perhaps if more people established such vital
links back in 1966, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Paradise, Hawaiian
Style</b> might have shared a better fortune than sinking without a trace, at
best ignored and at worst maligned by critics and fans alike. Unfortunately,
the movie <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">still</i> managed to make half
a million dollars worth of profit, and the soundtrack still managed to sell
250,000 copies, all of which was fairly low, but enough to convince the Elvis
Hit Machine that the formula was still working, and that it made more sense to
stick to the tried and true than take any chances with the ongoing musical and
cultural revolutions. Besides, itʼs hard to blame the Machine — after all,
Hawaiʼi werenʼt any less popular as a tourist attraction in 1966 than they were
in 1962, and with people having forgotten everything about <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Blue Hawaii</i>, why not refresh their memory again?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Surprisingly, though, other than the really
stupid tongue-twister masquerading as a song about «Queenie Wahine», the
soundtrack is largely free of frontally obvious embarrassments (the ones
usually consisting of trying too hard to make Elvis sound «hilarious» or trying
too hard to fit him into some native costume or other). There are fewer
genuinely cringeworthy moments here than I counted on either <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Harum Scarum</b>, with its
mock-Orientalism, or <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Frankie And Johnny</b>,
with its Buffalo Bill caricatures. Instead, it simply recreates and amplifies
the standard flaw of that whole period — once again, they hire the same old
team of corporate songwriters who do not give a flying fuck (sorry) about
turning in quality work. As usual, each and every song on here falls back on
old tropes and clichés, and not a single one needs to be remembered because
they are all just pale imitations of past glories, be it ballad, rocker, or
«catchy» pop song.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I mean, seriously — if you were to put a gun to
my head and force me to declare at least one «winner», my innate sense of
honesty would probably see my brains splattered on the wall rather than say,
«...uh... uh... I dunno... ʽA Dogʼs Lifeʼ, perhaps? — no, not really, no». What
can you do about the combination of a rigidly fluffy atmosphere with hooks that
have all the freshness of a dead dog nicely stewing under a scorching Arizona
sun? I cannot even bring myself to mentioning any of these tunes by name
because, seriously, none of them deserves it. All of this only goes to reinforce
my suspicion that «Paradise» is a very boring place indeed, and «Hawaiian
Style» just throws some grass skirts into the pot, but does not make it any
less boring.</span> </div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: #00b050;"></span></i></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-47690225583601980152020-06-26T16:10:00.002+03:002020-08-04T14:17:25.108+03:00Pixies: Doolittle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS2I00qVGoms-cz-MaXLe7zSY4mYiJJabbo__YzJOngeGF6aPDZFpffnsPZTOc9AmkOTpwcbyxKKrmwHXIJGFJGIBpBf0bCjK_uiUWjB2TH6GxaeoY7WzBJQwk16V5KWFLwvcDOZXyN68/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS2I00qVGoms-cz-MaXLe7zSY4mYiJJabbo__YzJOngeGF6aPDZFpffnsPZTOc9AmkOTpwcbyxKKrmwHXIJGFJGIBpBf0bCjK_uiUWjB2TH6GxaeoY7WzBJQwk16V5KWFLwvcDOZXyN68/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt;">PIXIES: DOOLITTLE<span style="letter-spacing: -.1pt;"> (1989)</span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 10pt;">1) </span><span style="color: red; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Debaser</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 10pt;">; 2) Tame;
3) </span><span style="color: red; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Wave
Of Mutilation</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 10pt;">; 4) </span><span style="color: red; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I Bleed</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 10pt;">; 5) </span><span style="color: red; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Here Comes Your Man</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 10pt;">; 6) Dead;
7) </span><span style="color: red; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Monkey
Gone To Heaven</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 10pt;">; 8) Mr. Grieves; 9) Crackity Jones; 10) </span><span style="color: red; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">La La Love You</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 10pt;">; 11) No.
13 Baby; 12) There Goes My Gun;
13) Hey; 14) Silver; 15) Gouge Away.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: red; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">A Beach Boyʼs brain on Salvador Dali... or should
that be the other way around?</span></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
[<i>This is a slightly modified version of an earlier review written for the short-lived Great Album series.</i>]</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
The major difference between <b>Doolittle</b>, the
bandʼs second and (according to general critical consensus) most perfectly
realised album, and <b>Surfer Rosa</b>, is that it was recorded on a bigger
budget, distributed by a bigger label (Elektra), and recorded and produced <i>after</i>
the Pixies got their first round of warm critical (if not commercial)
reception. This is important, because the scope and general aim of the songs
here is clearly more ambitious, and even if we wonʼt go as far as to say that
it represented Black Francisʼ plan of world conquest, we still must admit that
it goes beyond merely "having fun": for <b>Surfer Rosa</b>, it is not
clear that Francis had any plan at all, but for <b>Doolittle</b>, he most
certainly had one. Very roughly speaking, we have a lo-fi to hi-fi transition
here, so if you are a lo-fi adept, you shall probably want to brand this one a «sellout»,
which is okay by me — if only everybody were capable of selling out this way...</div>
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Despite the obvious upgrade in opportunities, the
Pixies largely stick to the tried and true four-piece lineup — only augmented, for
experimental purposes, by a string quartet on ʻMonkey Gone To Heavenʼ. The
recording itself took place in studios in Boston and Stamford over almost a
month in October-November 1988, with Gil Norton (previously associated largely
with Throwing Muses) producing, at a rate of approximately one song per day —
rather curious, in fact, considering how short most of the tunes are; but it
sort of makes sense in the end, when you begin to truly understand the bandʼs
perfectionism and close attention to minute details, no matter how brief the
song. With serious press coverage, MTV videos, decent airplay, and general word
getting out, <b>Doolittle</b> literally put the band on the charts — although
it is instructive to know that they would always be more popular in Europe than
in their native country, with <b>Doolittle</b> stalling at #98 on the US charts
while rocketing all the way to #8 on the UK ones (and all of the bandʼs
subsequent releases, including the 2014 reunion record, would follow the same
pattern): apparently, their brand of intellectual pop was a bit too much for
mass American audiences to take in (stupid Yanks and all that). As of now, it
remains their best-selling record, and the most common answer to the question
"where should I start with the Pixies?", not to mention the one LP to
feature the most memorable sleeve — itʼs not that often, after all, that you
get to see a monkey with a halo trapped inside an octagram.</div>
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Only very recently did the album finally see an
expanded edition: <b>Doolittle 25</b> came out in 2015 (should really be <b>Doolittle
26</b>, but round numbers win over production delays) with two additional CDs
worth of material — one with a bunch of B-sides and live radio sessions, and
one with a whole set of raw demos. Since I have not yet laid my hands on that one,
I am not sure if it is going to be of much interest to anybody except
collectors, but in any case, it is nice to know that the albumʼs classic status
has finally been confirmed with a proper deluxe edition.<o:p></o:p></div>
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So, where should we start? Okay, first and simplest, <b>Doolittle</b>
is just a classy little pop album. Itʼs got enough detours from the generic pop
formula to be eligible for "important artistic statement" status, yet
at the heart of almost each of these songs you will find ear-worms — modestly
repetitive, well-constructed, emotionally resonant instrumental and vocal hooks
that clearly show how «music therapy» was priority number one for the band,
well before any intellectual appraisal of the albumʼs lyrical or symbolic
content. You do not need to go further than the beginning of ʻDebaserʼ: many
bands would not bother to push beyond the opening bars of Kimʼs bass and
Francisʼ droning rhythm guitar, but what really matters here is the
uplifting-romantic pop riff that Santiago throws in at 0:08 into the song,
clearly setting the stage for something brash and heroic. And I do not even
need to mention ʻHere Comes Your Manʼ, with its guitar riff that should proudly
carry the Buddy Holly Seal of Appreciation on it (in fact, itʼs hard for me to
believe that Francis and Santiago did not steal that chord sequence from some
Buddy Holly song, but fortunately for them, I can never think of an actual
source).<o:p></o:p></div>
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For a small bunch of guitar-wielding indie kids with
no Mellotrons or even Jew harps, itʼs quite pleasantly diverse, too: fast, mid-
and slow tempos, melodies ranging from punk to pop to surf-rock to dark folk
(ʻSilverʼ), with enough variety spread across those 15 tracks to prevent easy
pigeonholing. Yet behind all this variety also lies a certain unifying concept,
which is hard to formulate in words, but if roughly approximated, it would
sound something like "Incidental Music For A Culture Overdose". Black
Francisʼ songs are like tiny capsules in which he concentrates and diffuses
gazillions of mini-impressions — musical, literary, cinematic, highbrow and
trashy alike — and which he passes off as the average reactions of a
culture-crazed, or simply an information-crazed Joe driven to inadequate, and
sometimes downright crazy, behaviour by the world pressing down and around on
him. Itʼs very much the same principle that is essential to grasp in order to
understand Talking Heads, but there is also a big difference: <b>Doolittle</b>
does not have that much reflection and introspection, it is not about the
protagonist wallowing in his own paranoia... it simply <i>is</i>.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The anthemic ʻDebaserʼ lays it on the line fairly
quickly — with not-too-obscure references to <i>Un Chien Andalou</i>, itʼs like
a laymanʼs gut reaction to being exposed to the world of artistic strangeness
and unpredictability, something a slightly offset teen could experience and
pronounce upon a fortuitous visit to an arthouse. Like most Pixies song, it is
very tongue-in-cheek, too — you never truly know if the band is celebrating
this attitude or mocking it, and you will never truly know it even when you
reach the end of the album. One thing is for certain: <b>Doolittle</b> is all
about growing up to be a debaser, and most of the time itʼs on, weʼre busy
debasing everyone and everything in sight. Second song, case in point: donʼt you
think that the <i>correct</i> words for the scream-your-heart-out overloud
chorus section of the song is not "Cookie, I think youʼre TAME! TAME!
TAAAAAAME!", but rather "Cookie, I think youʼre <i>wild</i>?" A
very simple, direct, and unforgettable inversion of values. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But as far as I am concerned, the real highlights of <b>Doolittle</b>
are the anthemic songs rather than the cooky-gimmicky interludes. ʻWave Of
Mutilationʼ opens with arguably the albumʼs greatest guitar melody, a wobbly
wave-like trill that resolves into an arena-rock set of power chords, and this
is followed by Francisʼ most inspired bit of vocal arrangement — heʼs not a
great singer at all, but he is a genius artist, and thereʼs nothing quite like
that contrast between the enigmatic breathy whisper of the first two lines
("cease to resist, giving my goodbye / drive my car into the ocean")
and the loud, distant, echoey third line ("you think Iʼm dead, but I sail
away"). Itʼs like during the first two lines they are brushing in a
speedboat across the waterʼs surface, and then the third line shifts their
trajectory 60-70 degrees and propulses them to high heavens, before making
the backwards plunge for the chorus ("on a wave of mutilation"). Let
alone the fact that the second verse unquestionably features the most seductive
manner of pronouncing the noun "crustaceans", the song is like
the perfect ode to narcissism and masochism rolled in one — I only hope that
nobody gave in to its lyrics and atmosphere too easily, because it really
taunts you to hop in your car and drive it off the highest cliff to make the
grandest exit known to mankind. At least itʼs a good thing there ainʼt no cliff
overlooking Mariana.<o:p></o:p></div>
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ʻMonkey Gone To Heavenʼ is often mentioned as an «environmental»
song, due to its mention of the "ten million pounds of sludge" and
"hole in the sky", but it would be too boring for Pixies to simply
write an ecological lament — itʼs really more than that, sort of an apocalyptic
prediction where "this monkey" refers to all of us, and the two
violins and two cellos are added to the mix to help complete the aura of quiet,
but slightly amused sadness already generated by the repetitive chorus (almost
makes it sound like the Electric Light Orchestra, in a way). Again, it is a
pretty unique lyrical and musical take on the end of the world, neither too
angry nor too morbid — although most people will probably remember it for the
silly numerological bit in the middle, which Francis just threw in for some
extra kicks but which does not really mean much of anything on its own (why
does he have to scream "GOD IS SEVEN! GOD IS SEVEN!" at the top of
his lungs as if he were having a sudden epiphany, or getting exorcised? No
idea, but I guess we all love it anyway).<o:p></o:p></div>
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Thereʼs also «light anthemic», in the form of ʻHere
Comes Your Manʼ, which was among the first songs Francis ever wrote — this
explains the Buddy Holly-esque hook and the relative «fluffiness» of the tune
(which was still released as a single, but apparently the band never liked
playing it live in the good old days), yet it fits in very well with all the
rest, even despite its innate optimism. Fact is, you donʼt really know what youʼre
waiting for, you have no idea of who is your man and where he is supposed to
take you to; you might just as well be a monkey waiting for him to take you to
heaven. And a bigger fact is, thereʼs no «optimism» or «pessimism» on this
record — itʼs morally ambiguous as heck. It lives in two basic states: «overdrive»
and «preparing for overdrive», but you got to be prepared to accept that the <b>Doolittle</b>
universe knows not the simple contrast between «happy» and «sad». It does know
the contrast between «loud» and «quiet», and the louder it is, the more chances
you get at getting a great riff, and so ʻHere Comes Your Manʼ
belongs in the same category as ʻDebaserʼ, despite being
superficially more «accessible» to the general population.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And where is this overdrive stemming from? Like I said
— culture overdose. Hyperbolic reaction to Bunuel on ʻDebaserʼ. Vampiric
fantasies on ʻI Bleedʼ. Excitable young man reading the story of Bathsheba and
Uriah on ʻDeadʼ, and then the story of Samson and Delilah on ʻGouge Awayʼ.
Throw in some memories of a crazy Puerto Rican roommate (ʻCrackity Jonesʼ) and
of various types of easy women (ʻTameʼ, ʻNo. 13 Babyʼ), some numerology,
some Greek mythology (at least there are no songs about superheroes named Tony
on this record), and what you have here is a slightly less educated, but much
more easily excitable version of Stephen Dedalus swimming in a chaotic soup of
his charged-up memories and encyclopaedic knowledge. <b>Doolittle</b> makes no
major statements, issues no accusations, and would commit seppuku if it ever
found itself overwhelming us with a much-too-serious attitude — but somehow its
twisted, catchy, humorous, surrealist regurgitations of human experience are
capable of producing a much stronger effect than oh so many Serious Works of
Art.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I do have to say that I have always found the track
sequencing a little uneven: most of the big anthems and strongest hooks are lodged
on its first side, with the first stretch of seven songs pretty much unbeatable
in its onslaught. However, starting with ʻMr. Grievesʼ, whose mock-reggae
verses sound like the recordʼs first serious slip-up to me, the record becomes
shakier: stuff like ʻNo. 13 Babyʼ, while not bad at all on its own, shares the
same tempo and stylistics with ʻMonkeyʼ without being in possession of a
comparably strong hook, and I can never remember much of interest
about ʻThere Goes My Gunʼ or ʻHeyʼ, either. As sacrilegious as it
sounds, I sometimes think they could have taken Gil Nortonʼs advice and make
some of the good songs a tad longer, sacrificing some of the weaker ones at
their expense — for instance, you can say what you want, but two minutes is <i>way</i>
too little for ʻWave Of Mutilationʼ. In other words, <b>Doolittle</b> is not
all perfection, although I reiterate that even the weakest songs here still
have a sense of purpose — itʼs just that most of the highlights are
concentrated in the first half.<o:p></o:p></div>
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You could also say, I guess, that the twin
guitar-bass-drums setup for this music does not fully justify its ambitions;
and considering how well the strings work on ʻMonkey Gone To Heavenʼ, it is
lamentable that more instruments, or at least a larger amount of guitar tones
have not been used on the album (being well aware all the time that its budget,
though significantly larger than for <b>Surfer Rosa</b>, still wouldnʼt allow
for too much whipped cream). Normally, it works, and they are capable of
tapping the instrumentsʼ potential (ʻWave Of Mutilationʼ is a prime example of
how one guitar part fully compensates for the lack of a symphonic arrangement);
but every once in a while, the guitars are just playing «standard» alternative
rock parts (ʻGouge Awayʼ), and thatʼs not ideal if you want to leave behind a
proper masterpiece. This, too, is a little responsible for the excitement
occasionally (very occasionally) dying down. I mean, would it have hurt them
too much to at least drag a piano in the studio? Oh well, forget it. Itʼs not
like the prosecution has much of a case here anyway.</div>
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<br />
In some small way, <b>Doolittle</b> does sound
like every great pop album produced in the 1990s. It paves the road to all
sorts of post-modernistic attitudes in music, combining gut-level, poppy
enjoyability with gratuituous (or not so gratuitous?) cultural references, an
ability to sound tremendously emotionally engaged and morally abstinent at the
same time, and a crazy excited whirlwind that can suck in just about anything
that happens to make its way past your window. It might be the closest analogy
to a <i>Pulp Fiction</i> for modern music — a gate-opening progenitor that
presents unlimited possibilities in an easily accessible and humorous manner,
and launches a thousand ships while never being bested by anyone. And itʼs
still totally cool after all these years, in all its glorious simplicity and
innocence.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-4589047511081527282020-06-25T12:23:00.001+03:002020-06-25T12:23:22.278+03:00Elvis Presley: Frankie And Johnny<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglPqU0_kSHHm5oASwZHcfJA3N7Xsd57qWLPQQ8fN7zLGmgiCHz30R96ezkkgXH0jCYrHrAzDiMMjkGyFMqKcTGwFfp6y7WLH_FiSQhA2qjT2aVcASQvgSksnHH9J8vODvZ_DztZ7C9-Ks/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglPqU0_kSHHm5oASwZHcfJA3N7Xsd57qWLPQQ8fN7zLGmgiCHz30R96ezkkgXH0jCYrHrAzDiMMjkGyFMqKcTGwFfp6y7WLH_FiSQhA2qjT2aVcASQvgSksnHH9J8vODvZ_DztZ7C9-Ks/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">ELVIS PRESLEY: FRANKIE AND JOHNNY (1966)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></b>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) Frankie And Johnny; 2) Come Along; 3)
Petunia, The Gardenerʼs Daughter; 4) Chesay; 5) What Every Woman Lives For; 6)
Look Out, Broadway; 7) Beginnerʼs Luck; 8) Down By The Riverside / When The
Saints Go Marching In; 9) Shout It Out; 10) Hard Luck; 11) Please Donʼt Stop
Loving Me; 12) Everybody Come Aboard.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: #00b050;">Sending Elvis down the Mississippi in 1966
seems to have worked exactly the same way as sending him to the Middle East —
out of time, out of place, out of style, out of taste.</span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: #00b050;"><br /></span></i></span>
<br />
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Well, it is now 1966, the year of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Revolver</b> and <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Pet Sounds</b>, and at least we are not in pseudo-Ottoman Empire time
any more — no, we have been <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">merely</i>
relocated to faux-1920s, an age of vaudeville, Dixieland, crooners, and gypsy
dancing. Replete with Mississippi River boating, fortune telling, gambling,
visions of distant Broadway, and a cheesy happy ending, the movie managed the
amazing feat of nosediving its way through stereotypes of Americana in an
almost as embarrassing a fashion as <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Harum
Scarum</b> did with its Oriental imagery — and, once again, the soundtrack
masterfully fitted the crime.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The absolute majority of the songs here
faithfully recreate the musical formulas of the Jazz Age, without making these
recreations interesting in the slightest — this is not so much «retro» as it is
a laughably cartoonish projection of everything that could be hot and provoking
back in those times. Starting off with the title track, a big band cover of the
old popular standard transformed from a murder ballad into a piece of fat
glitzy pomp in which Elvis cannot even play the clown with sufficient
conviction; and then descending into such abysses of vaudeville cheesiness as
ʽPetunia, The Gardenerʼs Daughterʼ (the kind of song youʼd usually expect to be
performed without oneʼs pants on) and ʽChesayʼ (wooh, Elvis as the suave gypsy
seducer!), this pathetic collection loses any glimmer of hope at redemption.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Not that it even tries. You could try to expect
at least something half-decent from the albumʼs single Pomus-Shuman
contribution, but ʽWhat Every Woman Lives Forʼ is a fairly lazy and totally
predictable slow doo-wop dance number with a message that must have been pretty
questionable even back in 1966 ("what every woman lives for is to give her
love to a man" — gee, talk about presumptuous generalisations). Joy Byers,
who used to be relatively reliable on the previous couple of soundtracks, must
have also been caught on one of her off-days, contributing the ballad ʽPlease
Donʼt Stop Loving Meʼ which uses exactly the same chord progression as
approximately 10,000 other love ballads and whose lyrics were thrown together
in five seconds by a human equivalent of a modern day bot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Perhaps the most embarrassing thing on the
album is a mash-up of ʽDown By The Riversideʼ and ʽWhen The Saints Go Marching
Inʼ, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">officially credited</i> to Bernie
Baum, Bill Giant, and Florence Kaye — apparently they used some sort of
loophole because of those songsʼ presence in the public domain. Admittedly,
Elvis isnʼt too bad when he is singing this sort of material, but the mash-up
thing feels corny, the «credits» feel lame, and trying to spice an overall
rotten collection with a brief reenactment of a couple well-known classics is a
pathetic idea which can only be justified by the fact that non-pathetic ideas
were not officially allowed in that season — like <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Harum Scarum</b>, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">everything</i>
here seems specially designed to make The King come across as The Clown. Long
gone are the days of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">King Creole</i>, when
he was able to — or, well, «they» were able to make these Southern motives come
alive, be fun, vibrant, and occasionally provocative. In their place we now
have this sorry bunch of unintentionally parodic clichés which no respectable
lover of New Orleanian culture will ever mistake for the real thing — they are
every bit as comfortable as the look on Elvisʼ face as he stands there tucked
into his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gone With The Wind</i> outfit
and probably wishes theyʼd send him back to the army or something, instead.</span> </div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: #00b050;"></span></i></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-40688027417033024012020-06-23T15:42:00.000+03:002020-06-23T15:42:10.657+03:00Pixies: Surfer Rosa<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv8_SXPVOAD1-nemNbsrshGKmFQx6HPUpGYuXp0x6PC1JsucKjX7B7t4HjIbm_fXjFx5gIkti5nXiY9WbXwQ-Nkm_Uzx4EUXs9TjDelRcajYb7CIPFgaN9euhlF5y1_zDFVWFpIetJAKY/s600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv8_SXPVOAD1-nemNbsrshGKmFQx6HPUpGYuXp0x6PC1JsucKjX7B7t4HjIbm_fXjFx5gIkti5nXiY9WbXwQ-Nkm_Uzx4EUXs9TjDelRcajYb7CIPFgaN9euhlF5y1_zDFVWFpIetJAKY/s320/full.jpg" /></a></div>PIXIES: SURFER ROSA<span style="letter-spacing: -.1pt;"> (1988)</span></span></b><div><b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><span style="letter-spacing: -.1pt;"><br /></span></span></b></div><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) Bone Machine; 2) Break My Body; 3) Something
Against You; 4) Broken Face; 5) Gigantic; 6) River Euphrates; 7) Where Is My
Mind?; 8) Cactus; 9) Tonyʼs Theme; 10) Oh My Golly!; 11) You Fucking Die! I
Said; 12) Vamos; 13) Iʼm Amazed; 14) Brick Is Red.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: red;">A punk-pop / kid-rock masterpiece of viciously
aggressive childlike innocence.</span></i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: red;"><br /></span></i></span></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The biggest difference between <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Come On Pilgrim</b> and the Pixiesʼ first
full-length LP is not the length (actually, the LP is still fairly short, only
beating <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Pilgrim</b> by about ten
minutesʼ worth), but the presence of a bona fide producer in the face of Steve
Albini — in fact, the album pretty much established the reputation of both the
band <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> Steve, who was hitherto much
better known as the leader of Big Black, but would henceforth be known almost
exclusively for his talent in making vicious and ferocious bands sound even
more vicious and ferocious. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Curiously, Steve would go on to make fairly
scathing remarks about how these sessions went, implying that the band was only
too happy to be recording for a big label and followed his directions like a
bunch of lap dogs (I guess that Mr. Albini only has the proper respect for
those who regularly tell him to fuck off). But then again, he probably <i>did</i> give them exactly what they wanted —
teaching the band how to make those guitars sound like high-tension wires,
broken glass, or flames of Hell depending on the circumstances, based on his
own career in Big Black. As a result, the album has much more crunch and punch
than <b>Come On Pilgrim</b>, without losing
either its masterful pop hooks or its post-modern flavor.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">The new tactics are heard from the very first
beat, when David Loweringʼs drums crash down on the senses with the mammoth
energy of a John Bonham — and without a single trace of those all-pervasive
electronic echos which now make all mainstream Eighties records so tightly
attached to their own and no other decade. In between those crushing drums,
Kimʼs thick and lumbering bass tone, and the half-punk, half-psychedelic guitar
riffs, ʽBone Machineʼ actually sounds like one: a very heavy, very squeaky,
very crude, but perfectly functioning bone machine. (I wonder if the song title
could actually influence Tom Waitsʼ title for his own groundbreaking 1992 album
— admittedly, Tomʼs idea of a «bone machine» differed fairly significantly from
the Pixies, with much more emphasis on percussion, but still, too much of a
coincidence). It is not a particularly favorite tune of mine — beyond
establishing that sound, I do not think it makes that much of a point, and its
acappella hook ("your bones got a little machine...") is emotionally
vague; but as a prime example of how it would be all working out, and how it
would be nearly impossible to ascribe these songs to any particular genre, itʼs
fairly great.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">That said, <b>Surfer
Rosa</b>, even more so than its shorty predecessor, shows that it is <i>very</i> hard to pin any Pixies tune to any
sort of specific «point». Analyzing Black Francisʼ lyrics is usually even more
hopeless than analyzing classic Dylan — they typically have an impressionistic
flow, where randomly snatched out images of fuzzy personal experiences,
contemporary political realities, and trashy pop culture elements may have a
billion different interpretations. The melodies to which they are set,
combining diverse and disparate genre elements, will disconcert and befuddle
the mind quite harshly — traditional emotions such as joy or anger all seem to
have a place in the Pixiesʼ musical philosophy, but you can never really work
out their relations to each other or their underlying basis. Try and ask
yourself the question: «Okay, something like ʽRiver Euphratesʼ is great, but
what exactly makes it great, and what does ʽgreatʼ even mean in this context?»
Then you will understand the creative pain in which I find myself while writing
this review.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Perhaps it might be better to try and unwind
this confounding ball of yarn if we first lock on to something really short,
simple, and accessible — like, say, ʽCactusʼ, a two-minute ditty that would
later be resurrected by David Bowie for the <b>Heathen</b> album in a much louder and epic arrangement. In the
original, bare-bones version, with its jagged guitar and bass chords and slightly
whiney vocal delivery, it sounds more like something which, say, Neil Young
could have considered for <b>After The Gold
Rush</b> — a mini-anthem of loneliness and yearning, expressed from a
dangerously deranged mental perspective. A simple blues-rocker with some
subconscious musical ties to early Seventiesʼ slow boogie <i>à la</i> T. Rex (they say that the idea to surreptitiously spell
P-I-X-I-E-S in the middle of the song was inspired by a similar move on one of
Marc Bolanʼs tunes, and I am pretty sure the connection must have come to them
from the musical arrangement of the song in the first place), but with Neil
Youngʼs rather than Marcʼs spirit inhabiting the melody. In fact, I think it
actually shares a couple of its menacing chord changes mid-verses with a similar
thing on Neilʼs ʽWhen You Dance I Can Really Loveʼ — another tune that crosses
loving yearning with disturbing darkness. But the Pixiesʼ approach is <i>playfully</i> dark rather than disturbingly
dark — the faster tempo, the quirkier vocals, the ridiculous lyrical imagery
all implore you to not take things <i>too</i>
deeply and personally.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">And yet at the same time, it was hardly for
nothing that Fincher would choose ʽWhere Is My Mind?ʼ for the credits roll to <i>Fight Club</i>. If there are at least a
couple themes that tie together most of these songs, these themes would be <i>introversion</i> and <i>insanity</i>. If it seems to you that the music of the Pixies is way
too silly and way too cheerful to have served as an obvious source of
inspiration and admiration for Kurt Cobain, just realize that the key element
tying together Pixies and Nirvana is a general sense of detachment from common
reality and alienation from the hoi polloi, except that Nirvana would be angry
at and condescending to the world at large, whereas the Pixies treat the world
at large from the standpoint of a more David Byrnian paradigm — what are all
these strange organic beings doing in this weirdly uncomfortable location?
ʽWhere Is My Mind?ʼ is a fabulous example of that paradigm — from its eerie
«lost deep in the forest» backing vocals to its «swimming» lead guitar line to
its odd opposition between the screechy verse and the surprisingly quiet chorus
(usually it is the other way around), it is the perfect personal anthem for the
ever so slightly autistic loner, realising that there might be something wrong
with his mind but being essentially at ease with it — after all, there it is,
"way out in the water, see it swimminʼ", so itʼs basically all right
in the end. No need to shout about it.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">When the Pixies get romantic, itʼs all very
hush-hush, too — like in the Kim Deal-sung and co-written ʽGiganticʼ, in which
the protagonist apparently gets emotional about spying on a big black guy
making love to a girl in «a shady place», wherever that might be. The melody is
post-punk, the vocal chorus is starry-eyed retro pop, the lyrics would make Mick
Jagger blush, but the overall impression is that the Pixies are observing what
goes on in this crazy world out of some deep burrow, where Kimʼs bass is a
little bulldozer slicing through soil, and the vocals are those of excited (and
ever so slightly perverted) chipmunks, amazed at the conduct of their
technically more advanced organic brethren above ground. The moral of the
story, of course, is that if you ever had the urge to feel like a chipmunk in
its burrow, then the Pixies are the right band for you.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">Of course, if it were all just about the vibe
and little else, the album would not have produced the same impression on musicians
as it did at the time. In fact, the band displays an almost alarming level of
professionalism for a DIY-underground act — Francis and Kim may not be
virtuosos on their instruments, but they can play tightly and cohesively, turning
fast, punkier numbers like ʽTonyʼs Themeʼ and ʽOh My Golly!ʼ into ferociously
efficient blitzkrieg attacks; and Santiagoʼs talent at making creative chaos is
even more fully displayed on the extended version of ʽVamosʼ, whose middle
section somehow manages to channel the spirits of Jimmy Page, Hendrix, and Marc
Bolan at the same time — although the songʼs insane bumble-bee riff remains the
key element which makes it a Pixies song and nobody elseʼs.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">From an alternate perspective, <b>Surfer Rosa</b> may certainly come off as
too juvenile, too screechy, too insubstantial, too self-consciously artsy, or
all these things at the same time. People who expect all great music to be no
less than cathartic will never agree about the greatness of this record —
though, if you ask me, it only requires a little patience and a little upgrade
of some screws in your brain to perceive elements of catharsis in songs like ʽGiganticʼ
and ʽCactusʼ. And people who <i>do</i> agree
about the greatness of this record will always have a hell of a time trying to
convey it to those who do not — or even, for instance, explain what it is that separates
a first-rate post-modernist band like Ween, whose main function was to close
the book on 20th century popular music, from an exceptional post-modernist band
like the Pixies, whose main function was to point the way to the future (which,
for that matter, many people were able to see but not many were able to follow).</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">If you ask me, though, one of the markings of a
truly great artist is to be able to awaken the inner child in a serious adult —
something at which such bands as The Beatles and Talking Heads truly excelled,
and <b>Surfer Rosa</b> follows faithfully
in their footsteps. No wonder they cap things off with a song whose title befits
a counting out rhyme (ʽBrick Is Redʼ), and whose lyrics alternate between similar
counting-out nonsense ("a fish is fast and Jimmyʼs cast, hang me")
and a proclamation that the band is here to stay ("itʼs not time for me to
go"), while its absurdly distorted riff sounds like a twisted fanfare from
some teen-oriented Sixties TV show. <i>This</i>,
I guess, is what properly separates Pixies from Nirvana — Kurt Cobain could be
influenced by this stuff, but he could never write stuff like this because heʼd
murdered his inner child long before he became known to the public. Ironically,
though, <b>Surfer Rosa</b> could never
dream of reaching the sort of mass appeal reserved for <b>Nevermind</b> — precisely because the art of awakening oneʼs inner
child has become too complicated and esoteric in the modern age for people to
understand its proper importance.</p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: red;"></span></i></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-58789113130300426962020-06-16T10:06:00.000+03:002020-06-16T10:06:01.482+03:00Elvis Presley: Harum Scarum<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqdcAcq0hUadxcFcx4s3eFenZPXlM-n7CDlpvvP2CVfDC5jjF2wFm3qCkbdVBfqMmEp3ESYqeE9qO6GlWwFzYPUcKSyyUI-4K20dPOOwJtq6R10sfEjDjY0wImmrCib4JL406hohLNRu4/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqdcAcq0hUadxcFcx4s3eFenZPXlM-n7CDlpvvP2CVfDC5jjF2wFm3qCkbdVBfqMmEp3ESYqeE9qO6GlWwFzYPUcKSyyUI-4K20dPOOwJtq6R10sfEjDjY0wImmrCib4JL406hohLNRu4/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">ELVIS PRESLEY: HARUM SCARUM (1965)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></b>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) Harem Holiday; 2) My Desert Serenade; 3) Go
East, Young Man; 4) Mirage; 5) Kismet; 6) Shake That Tambourine; 7) Hey Little
Girl; 8) Golden Coins; 9) So Close, Yet So Far; 10) Animal Instinct; 11) Wisdom
Of The Ages.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: #00b050;">Elvis as the Thief of Bagdad? Going back to
the 1920s for inspiration in 1965 probably wasnʼt the best possible idea.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: #00b050;"><br /></span></i></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Sometimes I am actually left stupefied when
tracing Elvisʼ gradual degradation in the mid-Sixties. With pop culture in all
of its forms and manifestations generally becoming more and more sophisticated
in those years, one could have at least expected the King to try and retain the
already established levels of mediocrity and corniness, even if he proved
unable to adapt to the artistic requirements of the time. Instead, what we see
should be inspiring conspiracy theorists all over the world — because movies
and soundtracks such as <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Harum Scarum</b>
are pretty much unbelievable as «accidents», much more like somebodyʼs
conscious attempts to bring a formerly respectable artist to the utmost depths
of humiliation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">You need go no further than the movieʼs
synopsis on Wikipedia to understand that the screenplay could, at best, be
appreciated by 8-year olds, and that is even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">before</i> we get around to discussing all the ridiculous Middle
Eastern stereotypes which could only come from the mind of a screenwriter fully
convinced that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lawrence Of Arabia</i> was
a movie about headscarves and camels. What is even worse, though, is that the
soundtrack, this time, is in 100% agreement with the aesthetics of the movie —
consisting largely of songs whose only purpose is to accumulate every single
«Arabic» cliché known to Western society and convince us that, for some reason,
this dude from Memphis would be an excellent medium for unleashing them upon
our senses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Remember these names: Bernie Baum, Bill Giant,
Florence Kaye, Stanley J. Gelber, Sid Tepper, Roy C. Bennett — remember them,
because when the Last Judgement comes and the Lord begins personally
admonishing you for having led a life of sin, hedonism, and passive resistance,
all you have to say is «Lord, Iʼve been a sinner, but do I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> deserve the same treatment as all those people who wrote
songs for <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Harum Scarum</b>?», and the
Lord will relent on you, just as he did with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. All of
their songs for this album are cringeworthy exercises in joining elements of
country-western and vaudeville with «exotic» Eastern musical motives and truly
abysmal lyrics. The song titles alone, starting with ʽHarem Holidayʼ, tell you all
you need to know — but, trust me, the melodic and emotional content of all
these ditties rarely strays away from the banality and corniness of the titles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">To try and prove that I really did listen to
the album more than once (its only advantage, after all, is that, like all of
Elvisʼ soundtracks, it is gracefully short), I will say that one particular
songwriter here stands an actual chance of avoiding the flames of Hell, and
this is Joy Byers, the same Joy Byers who had a highlight on <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Viva Las Vegas!</b> with ʽCʼmon Everybodyʼ.
Her two contributions are fairly inoffensive and even somewhat attractive: ʽHey
Little Girlʼ is a simple, generic, energetic piece of twist with mildly amusing
predatory notes and growling piano interludes re-borrowed from ʽWhatʼd I Sayʼ,
while ʽSo Close, Yet So Farʼ is a simple, generic, unvarnished doo-wop ballad
with arguably Elvisʼ best vocal performance on here — at least there is some
sort of dynamics and build-up, though some of the melodic moves seem to have
been copped directly from Phil Spectorʼs ʽTo Know Him Is To Love Himʼ. But at
least if you are mining for your songwriting ideas elsewhere, it is so much
better to be mining in the mines of Ray Charles and Phil Spector than in the
mines of your local strip clubs with «Oriental» themes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">At least it is a bit of a relief to know that
this was the only such experiment in Elvis history, and that the near-total
critical and commercial failure of the entire enterprise made the gang come
back to their senses and return to the tried and true — because even among the
endless sea of boring, unimaginative, derivative, and stereotypical movies and
soundtracks produced for Elvis in the Sixties, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Harum Scarum</b> proudly lives up to its title and scares hares up to
this very day.</span> </div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: #00b050;"></span></i></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-60651216784358477962020-06-15T11:33:00.001+03:002020-06-15T11:33:20.658+03:00Pixies: Come On Pilgrim<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0WHC_dax6DWJ2BVNW8aGj_TwEuxu_wiW_j6pb__7jNvwGqXCl7l4m-2IDntt0avWhnAVFkrJMyIqgsd0eBkl9jN8uDHC8HzGTbaadhNW0U36pz2EdP7DXoFIIDo-7eZXBhadUL1_GBRg/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0WHC_dax6DWJ2BVNW8aGj_TwEuxu_wiW_j6pb__7jNvwGqXCl7l4m-2IDntt0avWhnAVFkrJMyIqgsd0eBkl9jN8uDHC8HzGTbaadhNW0U36pz2EdP7DXoFIIDo-7eZXBhadUL1_GBRg/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">PIXIES: COME ON PILGRIM<span style="letter-spacing: -.1pt;">
(1987)</span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><span style="letter-spacing: -.1pt;"><br /></span></span></b>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) Caribou; 2) Vamos; 3) Isla De Encanta; 4) Ed
Is Dead; 5) The Holiday Song; 6) Nimrodʼs Son; 7) Iʼve Been Tired; 8) Levitate
Me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: #ffc000;">Short as heck, but already contains every
single seed of the greatness to come.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: #ffc000;"><br /></span></i></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">If <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Come
On Pilgrim</b> fails to immediately establish the Pixies as one of the most
major acts of their generation, then we have no one to blame but Ivo
Watts-Russell, the president of 4AD, who was given the entire «Purple Tape» —
the results of the bandʼs first major recording session, with 17 tracks in all
— but cautiously decided to cherry-pick only a sample of it and release it in
mini-LP format, with a UK-only release that was, allegedly, fairly strange for
a US-based band, but apparently little had changed in the way of things over
those twenty years since Jimi Hendrix had to prove his worth by jumping across
the Atlantic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Even so, the ridiculously short length is just
about the only major complaint I could raise against the Pixiesʼ debut —
because even these eight short songs suffice to let you know that here was
another band all set to change the world. The first thing that comes to mind is
that it is all but impossible to put a label on the kind of music they are
playing. It seems to be equal parts «pop» and «rock», but it is certainly not
«power pop» in a Cheap Trick sense — the guitars have none of that thick arena crunch
which can sound so uplifting in skilled hands and so plebeian in not so skilled
ones. More apt is the often heard assessment of the music as a hybrid of «surf
rock» and «punk rock», but that, too, might give one unwarranted visions of the
Ramones playing ʽSurfinʼ Birdʼ when in reality the Pixies sounded nothing like
that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Why donʼt we go straight to the source
material? ʽCaribouʼ opens with a thrice repeated flashy little guitar flourish
that would not have sounded out of place on some late Sixtiesʼ Californian folk
rock album — except this one is lo-fi and distorted in prime underground
Eighties fashion. From there, the guitar goes into epic folk-blues mode (think
ʽHouse Of The Rising Sunʼ), except it keeps staggering and stuttering around in
pseudo-drunk DIY mode. When the vocals kick in, they come in short, simple,
minimalistic bursts, evoking the old beatnik spirit both in form and essence
("I live cement / I hate this street / Give dirt to me / I bite
lament" is almost Allen Ginsberg, though it probably rhymes a bit too much
for him) — and the wobbly man-woman unison between Black Francis and Kim Deal
gives the song an oddly universalist atmosphere despite only featuring two
people. Itʼs a mournful dirge that can easily turn into rebellious anthem, a
creepy mystical incantation that can mutate into prime anger — <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> it never takes itself too seriously,
like the Birthday Party or something like that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">That last part is actually essential, as is the
bandʼs infatuation with elements of surf music. The Pixies introduced a level
of «meta» into rock and pop music that few, if any, other Eighties acts had
dared to, or even thought to introduce. When you think back to all the
non-mainstream music from those days, what comes to mind is probably the hardcore
punk scene, the industrial and experimental noise bands, the starry-eyed or
bitter-cynical college rockers, all or most of them bent on stressing the
sincerity and immediacy of their sound as opposed to the artificial gloss of synth-pop,
hair metal, and power balladry. But what makes <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Come On Pilgrim</b> so awesome is that it has a little bit of it all —hardcore,
noise, idealism, cynicism — yet always leaves you a way out so you do not end
up pledging all your life and all your values to any single one of those
elements. Serious <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> playful,
sincere <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> ironic at the same time,
all the while pursuing crazier and crazier ideas of musical synthesis that are
valuable inside and outside their social context.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Thus, ʽVamosʼ is at the same time a bitter
satire on stereotypes of Hispanic immigrants in New England ("estaba
pensando sobreviviendo con mi sister en New Jersey" — no way this song
wouldnʼt get these guys «canceled» in modern times if they had a million dollars
and a million Instagram subscribers), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i>
an innovative and exciting experiment in guitar playing. Amusingly, its
structure reminds me of that old Amboy Dukesʼ reinterpretation of ʽBaby Please Donʼt
Goʼ: like Ted Nugent in his psychedelic period, Joey Santiago here is all bent
on making his guitar go as wild as possible over a very basic, very fast, very
headbanging rhythm track, and even though this early version is shorter and
less efficient than either the extended variant on <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Surfer Rosa</b> or their even more extended and crazy legendary live
performances, itʼs still a lot of fun — and, of course, that «bumblebee siren»
bended riff coming in at key points in the song is easily the most
unforgettable single moment of the entire mini-LP.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Perhaps most of the things attempted on these
songs would be done better later, on the Pixiesʼ first two full-length LPs, but
this should not detract from the fact that there is not a single bad song here —
and by «bad» I actually mean «not containing at least one or two fresh musical
ideas, let alone the lyrical content». ʽIsla De Encantaʼ mixes a hardcore punk
riff with crazy Angus Young-style guitar solos, stop-and-start techniques, and
more of Francisʼ hilarious Spanglish (all those Puerto Rican experiences paying
off). ʽEd Is Deadʼ would later be reshaped into the much more memorable ʽWaves Of
Mutilationʼ, but Joeyʼs use of sustain still makes it into a gaping psychedelic
monster in its own rights. ʽThe Holiday Songʼ has one of the bandʼs happiest
punk-pop riffs shadowing lyrics full of references to such happy themes as masturbation
and incest. ʽNimrodʼs Sonʼ, I believe, actually steals the melody of Motörheadʼs
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ʽAce Of Spadesʼ, but plays it in a more
retro, almost Fifties-like fashion, with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">another</i>
story of an «incestuous union» tacked on top of the crazy beat (does Black Francis
know something about his family history, I wonder, that he has not explicitly
shared with the public?). And while ʽIʼve Been Tiredʼ is more of a spasmodic
indictment of brainless radicals ("sheʼs a real left-winger ʼcause she
been down south and held peasants in her arms") than a musical
breakthrough, it still ends the record on a ska-punk note with lots of fun interplay
between bass, rhythm, and lead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In my humble opinion, the historical
significance of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Come On Pilgrim</b> is easy
to define: simply put, it was the last time in the known history of pop / rock
that a small band with a classic, traditional Beatlesque lineup (rhythm guitar,
lead guitar, bass, drums) was able to come up with a sound <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">completely</i> its own and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">completely</i>
overturning existing models and stereotypes. Itʼs all simple as heck, really, but
for some reason nobody else had that kind of genius simplicity in 1987, and
nobody — to the best of my knowledge — has been able to come up with another
kind of genius simplicity with the same bunch of instruments ever since. In
this way, you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">could</i> argue that this
music set the stage for the last important pop/rock revolution in known history
— and even if I may be pushing it, I donʼt care, because the more people try to
hear this record from this angle of view, the better.</span> </div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: #ffc000;"></span></i></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-88503277862448759822020-06-08T13:10:00.001+03:002020-06-08T13:10:19.408+03:00Elvis Presley: Elvis For Everyone!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5w9oh704Hvw3VRE8RkRvb2Or2JqBh_VL1U2wWwVaFHDyxgbVe7-EUdoGY1NHSA8sqqNEKk_kVy2sal4EWJCU_MZ3O-Asz4b26XxJtWBEdjK1oEvL6u3Kst9nGMbhPi3Qdukwb_DyqWZY/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5w9oh704Hvw3VRE8RkRvb2Or2JqBh_VL1U2wWwVaFHDyxgbVe7-EUdoGY1NHSA8sqqNEKk_kVy2sal4EWJCU_MZ3O-Asz4b26XxJtWBEdjK1oEvL6u3Kst9nGMbhPi3Qdukwb_DyqWZY/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">ELVIS PRESLEY: ELVIS FOR EVERYONE! (1965)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></b>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) Your Cheatinʼ Heart; 2) Summer Kisses, Winter
Tears; 3) Finders Keepers, Losers Weepers; 4) In My Way; 5) Tomorrow Night; 6) Memphis
Tennessee; 7) For The Millionth And The Last Time; 8) Forget Me Never; 9) Sound
Advice; 10) Santa Lucia; 11) I Met Her Today; 12) When It Rains, It Really Pours.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: #00b050;">Chaotically mixed outtakes masquerading as
an actual new LP — not a good choice for an era in which LPs had actually begun
to matter.</span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: #00b050;"><br /></span></i></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">There is arguably no better evidence for Elvisʼ
total and absolute artistic dysfunctionality in the mid-Sixties than this sorry
mess — an attempt at a «proper» studio LP, the manʼs first since <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Pot Luck</b> three years earlier. Apparently,
RCA wanted to give the fans a little something extra special to celebrate the
10th anniversary of their business union with the King, but instead of
everybody coming to their senses and arranging a proper recording session, they
decided to save everyone the trouble and just vent the vaults a little instead.
Why bother with an <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">actual</i> new LP when
there were already a couple of new soundtracks on the horizon, anyway?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The result is an odds-and-ends package whose
title, surprisingly enough, is somewhat justified: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">For Everyone!</b> means that any fan of any particular musical streak
in Elvisʼ history will find at least one or two tracks to his/her liking in
this cauldron. For those truly nostalgic about the good old days at Sun, there
is the old Lonnie Johnson ballad ʽTomorrow Nightʼ, extracted from a 1954
session — unfortunately, the idiots misunderstood the appeal of the songʼs
minimalistic arrangement and slapped on fully unnecessary percussion, guitar,
and backing vocal overdubs (fortunately, nowadays you can easily hear the
original version on compilations). For those yearning for the early RCA days,
there is a cuddly, but inspired version of Hank Williamsʼ ʽYour Cheating Heartʼ,
and the rough, slow R&B number ʽWhen It Rains, It Really Poursʼ, from 1958
and 1957 sessions, respectively. Then, moving on, for those who wanted proof
that Elvis could still rock out with the British Invasion stepping heavily on
his tail, there is a fairly smoking, if not too exceptional, take on Chuck Berryʼs
ʽMemphis Tennesseeʼ, from 1964. Then...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">...well, actually, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">then</i> itʼs mostly pablum / schlock salvaged from early Sixtiesʼ
sessions and an occasional song or two from soundtracks which never made it
onto previous LPs, e.g. ʽSanta Luciaʼ from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Viva
Las Vegas</i> or ʽSummer Kisses, Winter Tearsʼ from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Flaming Star</i> (the latter actually has a surprisingly sharp guitar
sound for a ballad, though its slight «exotica» touch is still somewhat cringey).
I am mildly partial to the playful vaudeville approach of ʽSound Adviceʼ, salvaged
from the soundtrack to the 1962 movie <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Follow
That Dream</i>, perhaps because it brings to mind ridiculous visions of Elvis
in a top hat, but nobody <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> needs
to hear it, honestly. Also, ʽFinders Keepers, Losers Weepersʼ is a pretty
decent pop song, musically close to ʽReturn To Senderʼ (perhaps this is why it
was originally shelved) and arguably the best the Sixties material here —
though this is not saying much, either.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In retrospect, I guess that, taken as a
collection of outtakes for the completist, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">For
Everyone!</b> is not nearly as pitiful as it could be — but given that no such
warning explicitly accompanied the original release, most people who had not
allowed their hormones to completely overtake their brains could hardly regard
this move as anything other than a pathetic cash-in, as well as plain
admittance that the King was in no condition to make a new LP of his own, and
this in an era when pop LPs were finally beginning to matter as genuine
artistic statements. To add insult to injury, the back sleeve of the original
album proudly presented a list of 15 of Elvisʼ «Worldwide $1,000,000 L.P. Albums»
with precise sales records — as if hinting that <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Elvis For Everyone!</b> had no choice but to join that glorious roster.
Guess what — it did not, with the album failing even to go gold, let alone
platinum; apparently, the people at that point were smart enough to realise
that <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Elvis For Everyone!</b> truly meant
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Elvis For No One In Particular</b>, and
many, if not most, of them simply left the scraps for the scrap bin.</span> </div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: #00b050;"></span></i></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-32976733536044699002020-05-25T11:09:00.006+03:002020-05-25T11:09:50.205+03:00Elvis Presley: Girl Happy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNQ2C0XsmlAkrC9cwCgxSBFDvp65QToCimR-t9Ld8nUgWksDAS5_jj0JP-wEvE4sRkRP-M8CUvs1yhmFO2lYtRbIWhgBV1NAoxW8PmBISAy-6ILYHLbbbxAhk9DKEGx88N-vT-D6g0DYo/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNQ2C0XsmlAkrC9cwCgxSBFDvp65QToCimR-t9Ld8nUgWksDAS5_jj0JP-wEvE4sRkRP-M8CUvs1yhmFO2lYtRbIWhgBV1NAoxW8PmBISAy-6ILYHLbbbxAhk9DKEGx88N-vT-D6g0DYo/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">ELVIS PRESLEY: GIRL HAPPY (1965)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></b>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) Girl Happy; 2) Spring Fever; 3) Fort
Lauderdale Chamber Of Commerce; 4) Startinʼ Tonight; 5) Wolf Call; 6) Do Not
Disturb; 7) Cross My Heart And Hope To Die; 8) The Meanest Girl In Town; 9) Do
The Clam; 10) Puppet On A String; 11) Iʼve Got To Find My Baby; 12) Youʼll Be
Gone.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: #00b050;">If thatʼs a «girl happy» look on the front
cover, then this album is a masterpiece.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: #00b050;"><br /></span></i></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The «big» number on this soundtrack is ʽPuppet On
A Stringʼ, both the centerpiece of the movie (the song where the guy gets the
girl) and the main single from the LP, with ʽWooden Heartʼ reused as the B-side
by subconscious association (Elvis The Puppeteer). Tepper and Bennett really
went all out on this one, trying to make it as suave as possible, but I think
somebody ought to conduct a class sometime on the comparative virtues of this song
and ʽHere, There And Everywhereʼ to illustrate the difference between «corny
suave» and «magic suave». I guess that ultimately it still boils down to the
fact that ʽPuppet On A Stringʼ, down at the core, is a very trivial and generic
country shuffle, smoothed and silkened out with glossy production. Even the Jordanaires
sound like hired guns whose only purpose is to put the baby to sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">At least Doc Pomus is back as main songwriter
on the title track, whose fast tempo and rousing catchy chorus are easily the
most memorable thing about this soundtrack — if you can get past the
stereotypical gigolo lyrics, somehow unaccompanied by even the slightest hints
of genuine sexual passion (Iʼm pretty sure that by that time Elvisʼ «girl-happy»
period was long gone by), then I guess itʼs an okay enough composition and recording,
though it never truly lives up to the potential of its twangy opening guitar
line (played by new electric guitar player Tommy Tedesco, Duane Eddy-style).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Everything else is business and usual — rewrites
and/or embarrassments. The lowest point is probably ʽFort Lauderdale Chamber Of
Commerceʼ, sleazy to the core ("Girls on the beaches commit a sin / They
donʼt show yards and yards of skin" is one of the worst lyrical lines ever
submitted to the artist) and arranged as a relaxing Caribbean ballad to boot. But
there is also ʽDo The Clamʼ, sanitizing Bo Diddleyʼs style for diabetic
consumption; ʽCross My Heart And Hope To Dieʼ, another ridiculous mash-up of ʽToo
Muchʼ and ʽStuck On Youʼ; and ʽWolf Callʼ, whose attempt at a mating call is
neither subtle nor dangerous, just dumb. "Now donʼt tell me you donʼt fall
/ For that wolf call" is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">definitely</i>
the perfect way to net a womanʼs attention.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Perhaps the worst thing about it all is the
sequencing. About 50% of the songs present Elvis as a sweet, gentle,
exquisitely caring crooner-serenader, whereas the other 50% have him as an
absolutely cringe-inducing sleazebag who has recently been kicked out of the
first grade of the local pickup school. Naturally, there is no lack of «two-faced»
pop artists alternating between «womanizing» and «romantic» moods as if
changing shirts, but you can just get away with it if you really put your heart
and mind into both modes — <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Girl Happy</b>
is an embodiment how you can do both of these things <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> badly at the same time, and when you interweave them the way
we have it here, oh boy... hard to believe, really, that many girls could still
be falling all over Elvis in this incarnation, but then, the world has always
been a weird place.</span> </div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: #00b050;"></span></i></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-17795451478113902532020-05-24T20:33:00.001+03:002020-05-24T20:33:24.542+03:00Elvis Presley: Roustabout<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb2llQavE3FqErEsC4IOblWUHS3jNtRk1KQgbHhJqDy6WV8nC5KwouZ79ahMltskygcl0j5E6QlXA8VepFGNutTAJ26xoG8sDoHBeLbXB3zoEtIIuV-YGVuoRB-HDhZ-e5_Z-aX_KvL0Y/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb2llQavE3FqErEsC4IOblWUHS3jNtRk1KQgbHhJqDy6WV8nC5KwouZ79ahMltskygcl0j5E6QlXA8VepFGNutTAJ26xoG8sDoHBeLbXB3zoEtIIuV-YGVuoRB-HDhZ-e5_Z-aX_KvL0Y/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">ELVIS PRESLEY: ROUSTABOUT (1964)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></b>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) Roustabout; 2) Little Egypt; 3) Poison Ivy League;
4) Hard Knocks; 5) Itʼs A Wonderful World; 6) Big Love Big Heartache; 7) One Track
Heart; 8) Itʼs Carnival Time; 9) Carny Town; 10) Thereʼs A Brand New Day On The
Horizon; 11) Wheels On My Heels.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: #00b050;">Back to being as irrelevant for the times
as a travelinʼ carnival show might be — after all, La Strada this movie is not,
nor are these composers anywhere near to Nino Rota.</span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: #00b050;"><br /></span></i></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Well, unfortunately Joan Freeman is no Ann-Margret,
and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Roustabout</i> is a much less
inspiring movie title than <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Viva Las Vegas</i>
— implying that the spark had gone out as quickly as it was ignited. Predictably,
the soundtrack plunges us back to stale formula, with maybe just one tiny
exception: compared to the pre-<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Viva Las Vegas</i>
soundtracks, this one is a bit more rockʼnʼrollish, with a larger proportion of
upbeat, fast-tempo numbers, as if the Kingʼs corporate backers had finally woken
up to the idea that rockʼnʼroll was finally back with a vengeance, and that it
made sense to entice young audiences with material that their parents would find
questionable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Not that it makes any big difference. The
corporate songwriters remain the exact same people, and for <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Roustabout</b>, you donʼt even have an Otis
Blackwell or a Doc Pomus anywhere in sight. The closest thing to an honorable
classic that you find here is Leiber and Stollerʼs ʽLittle Egyptʼ, a three-year
old joke tune originally recorded by the Coasters and specifically adapted for
the movie (which, being a carnival movie, even had a character named ʽLittle Egyptʼ).
Alas, since it is a humorous number rather than a rambunctious one, Elvisʼ
deadpan delivery is far less efficient than the Coastersʼ original — Boots Randolphʼs
sax is more of a hero on this tune than the King himself. At least they are
still willing to let Leiber and Stoller into the picture.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Other than that, the title track is a speedy
country-western romp with a moderately catchy chorus and a tiny whiff of
genuine melancholy — but after that one and ʽLittle Egyptʼ, the album quickly
becomes yet another bunch of hasty and uninspired re-writes, e.g. ʽHard Knocksʼ
(ʽLetʼs Have A Partyʼ), ʽCarny Townʼ (ʽAll Shook Upʼ), and ʽThereʼs A Brand New
Day On The Horizonʼ (okay, I donʼt remember exactly, but Iʼm pretty sure thereʼs
some old gospel song upon which this one is based). Curiously, there is a
fairly vicious anti-elite university rant (ʽPoison Ivy Leagueʼ) dressed up as
some Appalachian work song, but this, too, is more of a novelty thing than a
serious musical and/or social statement.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Overall, what can you really expect, I guess,
from a set of songs written around the theme of an old-fashioned rustic
carnival (clearly, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the</i> hottest thing
in late ʼ64)? Could you imagine that a song called ʽItʼs Carnival Timeʼ could
be a highlight of Elvis Presleyʼs career, no matter who wrote it and under
which circumstances? It is actually quite amazing that the album still hit #1
on the charts, but this was the last straw: by 1965, American attention was
finally whisked away by all sorts of new attractions, and a carnival theme
setting for Elvis was definitely as far removed from the excitement of these
attractions as possible.</span> </div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: #00b050;"></span></i></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-69403316201903901462020-05-23T13:40:00.006+03:002020-05-23T13:40:52.802+03:00Elvis Presley: Viva Las Vegas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZwnKhGb8DNzpg03SCoItimoJMFtuB0Mt6mcuFOUV5zaS2YdL-pNI3f0zvH5rbXrzOQUNVQAr7PlksxfH9QpSaZpb4ZGZyn9Y0MyZylJN0mSTqNuenHK-mbCFlY_hkdEsvYJmrM58UCuE/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZwnKhGb8DNzpg03SCoItimoJMFtuB0Mt6mcuFOUV5zaS2YdL-pNI3f0zvH5rbXrzOQUNVQAr7PlksxfH9QpSaZpb4ZGZyn9Y0MyZylJN0mSTqNuenHK-mbCFlY_hkdEsvYJmrM58UCuE/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">ELVIS PRESLEY: VIVA LAS VEGAS (1964)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></b>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) <span style="color: red;">Viva Las Vegas</span>;
2) Whatʼd I Say; 3) If You Think I Donʼt Need You; 4) I Need Somebody To Lean
On; 5) Cʼmon Everybody; 6) Today, Tomorrow And Forever; 7) Santa Lucia; 8) Do
The Vega; 9) Night Life; 10) The Yellow Rose Of Texas / The Eyes Of Texas; 11)
The Lady Loves Me; 12) Youʼre The Boss.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: yellow;">Perhaps Elvisʼ finest attempt at reinventing
himself as an early Sixtiesʼ idol — for about fifteen minutes, sure, but it
would be overkill to demand any more.</span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: yellow;"><br /></span></i></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As if there wasnʼt already a lengthy history of
ironic developments and weird embarrassments in Elvisʼ post-Army career, the
Kingʼs camp threw in another one — for some utterly unknown reason, the
soundtrack to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Viva Las Vegas</i>,
possibly one of the accidentally finest movies from that period, was not
released at all as a proper LP in 1964. Instead, one song was released as a
single (Ray Charlesʼ ʽWhatʼd I Sayʼ, with the title track as a B-side!), and
four more as a short EP, far from the most common format typically associated
with the King. As a result, the final product flunked, and then it took about
half a century to actually put together an official CD that would contain all
the music from the movie. Quality control my ass.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Both the movie and the soundtrack were clearly
intended as a desperate shot in the arm for Elvis, what with the British
Invasion as well as numerous and ever more daring teen pop outfits on local
soil threatening to bury the man once and for all. And for a very, very brief
period it might even have seemed like it worked — in no small measure owing to
the figure of Ann-Margret, the first of Elvisʼ female co-stars in a position to
actually outplay the King himself: she was young, she was hot, and she was
deliciously and confidently Modern-Girl to the core, next to whom Elvis could
end up looking antiquated... and he was, yes, but also at the same time briefly
rejuvenated and amped up to offer some tentative competition.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Even if you never saw the movie, or even caught
a glimpse of Ann-Margretʼs iconic orange sweater, you can still feel the
chemistry between the two leads during their two duets. Musically, both are
generic — ʽYouʼre The Bossʼ is a lounge-blues tune from Leiber and Stollerʼs
backlog, while ʽThe Lady Loves Meʼ is a Tipper-Bennett creation in the
old-fashioned comic musical style. But there is a wonderful atmosphere of
playfulness and sexy competition, with Elvis playing a bit of a naïve hunk and
Ann-Margret being the seductively independent vamp. It is all rather kiddie
level by todayʼs standards, of course, but watching this or listening to this
brings on just the right mood vibe — playful, colorful, half-innocent and half-provocative
— that was so unique to the early Sixties.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">But what is far more surprising is that the
average quality of the musical material used for the soundtrack somehow seems
respectively upscaled, certainly so when compared to most other soundtracks
surrounding it. Just take a look at the first three tunes on the finalized LP/CD.
There is the title track, one of the finest Pomus-Shuman creations, whose
insane tempo, furious (for Elvisʼ Sixties standards) lead guitar licks, and
clearly enthusiastic vocals still make it proudly stand out — just look at all
the innumerable covers released over the years, and even if the Dead Kennedysʼ
version was clearly ironic and sarcastic, they still profited heavily from the loads
of rockʼnʼroll energy planted in it by its creators. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The second track is a cover of Ray Charlesʼ ʽWhatʼd
I Sayʼ — like any cover of that song, it fails to rise up to the fiendish
levels of provocativeness of the original (no sex noises, for one thing), but when
did we last hear Elvis covering Ray? With those bulgy sax leads, girly backing
vocals, surf-style drumming etc., this is another attempt at converting Fiftiesʼ
R&B into giggly early Sixtiesʼ teen entertainment, but quite a successful
one. And then the third track, ʽIf You Think I Donʼt Need Youʼ, is a Red West-penned
number <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in</i> the style of Ray Charles —
a direct stylistic rip-off if there ever was one, but performed with the same
verve and fun as ʽWhatʼd I Sayʼ itself. And get this: itʼs a new soundtrack LP,
and it begins with three songs in a row that do not suck. Oh, thank you, Ann-Margret.
Thank you, Beatles. Thank you... Mr. James Bond? Whatever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Of course, this sort of consistency cannot last
forever — eventually, we are still treated to a set of sloggy ballads recycling
old vocal moves (e.g. ʽToday, Tomorrow And Foreverʼ, with distinct echoes of ʽLoving
Youʼ), subpar Latin dance numbers which are more clumsy than playful (ʽDo The Vegaʼ),
hillbilly anthems (ʽThe Yellow Rose Of Texasʼ) and Italian serenades (ʽSanta Luciaʼ).
Still, at least there is Joy Byersʼ ʽCʼmon Everybodyʼ, a song more likely
written to accommodate one of Elvisʼ and Ann-Margretʼs dance routines than any
other purpose, but still rowdy enough to fit in with the overall head-spinning
nature of the album.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It would be ridiculous to insist that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Viva Las Vegas</i> and its atmosphere was a
culturally significant counterpart to something like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A Hard Dayʼs Night</i> — neither Elvis himself nor the big machine
working for him at the time could be capable of properly and believably capturing
the genuine spirit of the early Sixties (and, of all places, Las Vegas was
probably the least suitable one to try and do it). But at least they tried, and
in doing so, accidentally struck a small spark of life, one that could perhaps
be kindled further with the right people at the wheel. Unfortunately, if there
is anything that this thorough survey of the Kingʼs lonesome road through the Sixties
truly proves to the surveyor, it is that all signs of life in that period came
by by accident, and nothing else.</span> </div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: yellow;"></span></i></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-86849077689189039962020-05-18T12:51:00.004+03:002020-05-18T12:51:44.870+03:00Elvis Presley: Kissin' Cousins<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV7SMrKm8jAVJdGX3UNKqfy6LAy91BUZITJouauQSm6AV4mCWYg8HNRP4RVbhBCuW7X7GB5g1k4tWrEV5NeGUrRztldsO-QCtadYdYbD8kdzzOmEJWBzRRNPh_VDpAtshQD0KyrzvpHX4/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV7SMrKm8jAVJdGX3UNKqfy6LAy91BUZITJouauQSm6AV4mCWYg8HNRP4RVbhBCuW7X7GB5g1k4tWrEV5NeGUrRztldsO-QCtadYdYbD8kdzzOmEJWBzRRNPh_VDpAtshQD0KyrzvpHX4/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">ELVIS PRESLEY: KISSINʼ COUSINS (1964)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></b>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) Kissinʼ Cousins; 2) Smokey Mountain Boy; 3) Thereʼs
Gold In The Mountains; 4) One Boy, Two Little Girls; 5) Catchinʼ On Fast; 6) Tender
Feeling; 7) Anyone; 8) Barefoot Ballad; 9) Once Is Enough; 10) Kissinʼ Cousins;
11) Echoes Of Love; 12) Long Lonely Highway.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: #00b050;">The main problem about making a «hillbilly Elvis»
album for Elvis is that Elvis was never really a hillbilly in the first place. Or
maybe the main problem is just that the songs suck.</span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: #00b050;"><br /></span></i></span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
The Elvis camp response to the Beatles and British
Invasion in general was this oh so thrilling movie about the US government leasing
mountaintop land for use as a missile base, with Elvis facing a
not-so-incestuous choice between Batgirl and Dodge Rebellion Girl. I have not
seen the movie, but seems like he did choose Batgirl in the end, which is probably
the best thing about the whole experience (the worst thing is that Elvis
actually gets to play two roles — both himself <i>and</i> his cousin, for which the Colonel allegedly demanded <i>two</i> full salaries for his boy). Both the
movie <i>and</i> the soundtrack are often
regarded as one of the lowest points in Elvisʼ Sixties period, and while there
is definitely quite a bit of strong competition for that, it is indeed hard to
find any signs of redemption here.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Essentially, Elvisʼ role in this experience is
to play the stereotypical nonchalant hillbilly with the stereotypical hillbilly
attraction to oneʼs close relatives. The only way that you can really succeed
at this is if you play the whole thing as much tongue-in-cheek as possible, but
Elvis never had that great a sense of humor or irony, and there lies the rub —
even if many, if not most, of these songs were probably written as corny joke
tunes, Elvis delivers them with his deadpan face on, as if we were <i>really</i> supposed to emote over the fact
that "this one boy loves two little girls", or that he is "just
a Smokey mountain boy come back to the hills I love", or, most
importantly, that "weʼre all cousins, thatʼs what I believe, because weʼre
children of Adam and Eve" (!!).<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Worse still, the soundtrack once again lacks
even a single unquestionably great tune, an anchor such as ʽReturn To Senderʼ
or ʽBossa Nova Babyʼ that could at least superficially steady and redeem the
surrounding wreck. The title track, coming from Fred Wiseʼs workshop, was chosen
as the lead single, but it is a rather poorly masked variation on Little Richardʼs
ʽThe Girl Canʼt Help Itʼ, with a bunch of other rockabilly clichés thrown in
for good measure, and although the band is notably tight and professional,
there is not an ounce of genuine rockʼnʼroll energy either in the playing or in
Elvisʼ singing — the man is very clearly bored out of his skull.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
All the tracks are more or less evenly divided
into generic ballads, generic rewrites of older pop-rock classic (ʽOnce Is Enoughʼ
= an inferior ʽStuck On Youʼ), and hicky hillbilly stuff like ʽSmokey Mountain Boyʼ
and ʽBarefoot Balladʼ; youʼd think Elvisʼ Nashville team would feel right at
home with this material, but Elvis himself clearly does not, and there is no
believing him when he pleads to "give me a honk-tonk fiddle with a guitar
in the middle", because why should anybody give anybody something that he
absolutely does not need?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
In the end, the only song here that may be
worth remembering is the final track, ʽLong Lonely Highwayʼ, which actually had
nothing to do with the movie but was tacked on to fill up the LP, selected from
the May 1963 sessions for an aborted LP. A Pomus-Shuman creation, it is nothing
special melodically, just a fast ʽGot My Mojo Workinʼ-style blues-rocker, but
at least it gives Elvis an excuse to flash his
mumbled-bass-to-uplifting-baritone dynamics, providing this totally uninspiring
record with a <i>mildly</i> inspiring
conclusion. Other than that, well... the only thing you really have to keep in
mind is that this album was released twelve days after ʽCanʼt Buy Me Loveʼ. Really,
that is the <i>only</i> thing you have to
keep in mind.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-61378423481648058592020-05-17T18:09:00.002+03:002020-05-17T18:09:51.868+03:00Godspeed You! Black Emperor: Yanqui U.X.O.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpJUWbOPi4addorAKEnFehVdvfVE5UHZrGQGwa4FZ_wjdu0Ymp5QMxAtU-x-nggXjRmdErKDDWAxRAW6tl8UmQrhN4kWohrddsbDCRPqih74h41WCYTADmCR9XPdZGS3T1r7ihGezLXcQ/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpJUWbOPi4addorAKEnFehVdvfVE5UHZrGQGwa4FZ_wjdu0Ymp5QMxAtU-x-nggXjRmdErKDDWAxRAW6tl8UmQrhN4kWohrddsbDCRPqih74h41WCYTADmCR9XPdZGS3T1r7ihGezLXcQ/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;">GODSPEED YOU! BLACK EMPEROR: YANQUI U.X.O. (2002)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;"><br /></span></b>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: yellow;">Probably falls in the category of «noble
slump» — a solid effort which pales in comparison with the obvious masterpiece
and ends up feeling less powerful than it actually might be.</span></i></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">GY!BEʼs third (and last before a lengthy
hiatus) full-length release is a fairly difficult album, and opinions of it are
quite mixed — at the very least, it is safe to say that it hasnʼt gone down in
history as an indisputable classic, like its predecessor, and yet you can
occasionally find people ready to swear by it as an actual significant
impovement over <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Lift Your Skinny Fists</b>,
and not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">just</i> because they want to
sound different (though thereʼs always that, too). For a band with such an
instantaneously recognizable sound and such a rigid artistic conception as
GY!BE, this polarization is pretty intriguing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Arguably the single most important and
definitive feature of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yanqui U.X.O.</b>
is its complete reliance on pure musical means to achieve its goals — no
vocals, no field recordings, no creative overdubbing, just the band busy making
music with its actual instruments. This comes across as a surprise, all the
more so in the face of the albumʼs rather clear political message: both the
title, where U.X.O. admittedly stands for ʽunexploded ordnanceʼ, and the cover
art hint at relations between major record labels and arms manufacturers — and,
with the album released in the aftermath of 9/11 and the intervention in
Afghanistan (fortunately, the Iraq War had not yet begun at the moment), there
are occasional anti-system elements, such as a hidden track with a cut-up and
sampled George W. Bush speech at the end (guess we now know who the alleged
"motherfucker / redeemer" might actually be).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This is a very good decision by itself — for
those of us, at least, who believe that music should be allowed to speak for
itself, without serving as a direct backdrop to other forms of, uh, artistic
manipulation — but it does not solve the obvious problem of where exactly to go
next once you have clearly hit your artistic peak. After the giant effort of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Lift Your Skinny Fists</b>, where it seemed
that the very understanding that they were going after something truly
monumental might have served as a source for inspiration, the band had to pay
the true price for it by becoming prisoners of their own reputation. Had GY!BE
been a smaller, and thus, more flexible outfit, they might have cracked this
puzzle by choosing a significantly different musical direction. But with so
many people in the band, they probably could not have reinvented the formula
even if they tried to — too many brains to reshape, too much training to undo.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The result is that <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Yanqui U.X.O.</b> is essentially just more of the same — without the
elements of surprise, without nearly the same feel of monumentality, without
(arguably) nearly the same number of strong, memorable main themes, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">but</i> with the impression that the group
may be somewhat maturing and deepening their craft as musicians. To me, of
course, that is not a win type of situation, not even in terms of writing,
because I find myself somewhat at a loss when it comes to finding new ways of
describing the achieved effects. The base principles, after all, remain the
same — lock onto a theme, build it up into a steady overpowering crescendo,
climax, calm down, spend a bit more time to recover the expended energy, then
rinse and repeat. They did this four times on the previous album, they do it
just three times here, and something keeps telling me that they simply did not
want to expend more money on a double-CD package: with accuracy and precision,
the album runs for 75 minutes and not a second more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Even with the formula already well-established,
it seems there is a lack of ideas right from the start. ʽ09-15-00ʼ, for
instance, takes about six or seven minutes to properly get going where it took
ʽStormʼ only three of these; when the mournful neo-classical violin melody
finally emerges as the main theme around which the battle forces begin rallying
themselves, it is a strong and passionate moment, but it takes way too goddamn
long to develop. It does not help, either, that the second crescendo seems like
a rather uninspired repetition of the first, or that ʽPart Twoʼ of the suite is
a six-minute long piece of pure ambience that does not even think of going
anywhere. You can certainly visualize the whole thing as a musical battle, in
which ʽPart Twoʼ represents a musical interpretation of the battlefield after
the deed is done, but the whole thing is just way too meandering. Itʼs almost
as if the lazy approach of Silver Mt. Zion on their latest album was negatively
rubbing off on the entire band in general.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Things definitely begin to pick up with
ʽRockets Fall On Rocket Fallsʼ, which is the bandʼs first, and fully
successful, attempt to try out their crescendo principle on a waltz structure —
actually, there are two distinct parts here, both of them good: the opening
waltz is like an attempt to superimpose the atmospherics of <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">OK Computer</b> onto Johann Strauss Jr.,
and the second part is a dark, creepy, mildly Wagnerian build-up, very heavy on
booming cavernous percussion and fuzzy bass tones and, indeed, quite suggestive
of Wotanʼs and Logeʼs journey into Alberichʼs subterranean kingdom, though I
doubt they themselves ever thought of it that way. In any case, ʽRockets Fallʼ
to me seems like the unquestionable centerpiece of the album and the only one
of its lengthy suites to fully deserve the 20-minute length.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Not that there arenʼt any good things to say
about the third piece: ʽMotherfucker=Redeemerʼ starts out quite hilariously,
quickly becoming... a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">disco</i>-themed
post-rocker, mayhaps the only one of its kind, and kudos to the band for
managing to maintain the overall feel of mournfulness and impending doom while
upholding the quirky dance rhythm all the time. There is a touch of irony here,
and at least it feels nice to know that the band can do its crescendo schtick
at faster tempos. Once the mad dance of destruction is over, it transforms into
a slow, jarring, heavy, feedbacky mess of garbage sound — think Neil Youngʼs
soundtrack to <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Dead Man</b> as a potential
textural and mood-wise predecessor — which is impressive enough for a couple of
minutes. Alas, the song takes way too much time to wind down, and then there is
ʽPart Twoʼ, which throws on yet another aggressive crescendo — the lengthiest
of ʼem all — but fails to make a fresh point; it is more about making the album
go out on a loud and aggressive note than anything else.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As you can see, itʼs not as if the band is
creatively spent: it is more like it is thoroughly trapped in its own formula,
with the potential to still occasionally squeeze something decent out of it,
but on the whole it is a 50/50 chance of producing something curiously
interesting and something that just triggers the been-there-done-that vibe once
again. It is clearly a record made by masters of their trade, yet on the whole there
is a whiff of failure about it — for all the monumentality, they do not try
hard enough to expand into uncharted territory, even if ʽRocket Fallsʼ and the
«mock-disco» section of ʽMotherfuckerʼ clearly show that such territory still
exists, even within the set boundaries of the formula.</span> </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-1303303987204306332020-05-10T00:41:00.001+03:002020-05-10T00:41:21.775+03:00Syd Barrett: The Radio One Sessions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGF-jkoFHAXGW-YI3e9B4DrLsEtR9wtm99rJMlDixIiXgnnJH60s2o6bbkmmN263XKrYAsnRfP1seWDFmQTfKL-5hUYzSuBYtQSWrw3CgmgqXIKHh1lXBaHxIdCPjR9Tt5Zv62ayS2qac/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGF-jkoFHAXGW-YI3e9B4DrLsEtR9wtm99rJMlDixIiXgnnJH60s2o6bbkmmN263XKrYAsnRfP1seWDFmQTfKL-5hUYzSuBYtQSWrw3CgmgqXIKHh1lXBaHxIdCPjR9Tt5Zv62ayS2qac/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; letter-spacing: -.1pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">SYD BARRETT:</span><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; letter-spacing: -.1pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"> THE RADIO ONE SESSIONS (1970-71 / 2004)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; letter-spacing: -.1pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></b>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) Terrapin; 2) Gigolo Aunt; 3) Baby Lemonade; 4)
Effervescing Elephant; 5) Two Of A Kind; 6) Baby Lemonade; 7) Dominoes; 8) Love
Song.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: yellow;">The real symbol and star of this «live album»
is its brevity — one song for each year of the artistʼs musical career.</span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: yellow;"><br /></span></i></span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
This album was actually first released way
back in 1987 on John Peelʼs Strange Fruit label, as part of a large series of
radio recordings salvaged from Peelʼs archives — under the title <b>The Peel Session</b>, since, true enough, it
contained all the five songs that Syd performed in person on the <i>Top Gear</i> show on February 24, 1970,
amounting to a whoppinʼ 13 minutes worth of music. In 2004, the album was
re-released as <b>The Radio One Sessions</b>
after somebody scooped up three more performances from Bob Harrisʼ <i>Sounds Of The Seventies</i>, broadcast on February
16, 1971; terrible audience bootleg-level sound quality, but hey, when youʼre
pining for live solo Syd Barrett, you just donʼt get to be picky, and at least
you have the legitimate right to call the expanded, almost 20-minute long (!) album
<b>The Radio Sessions</b>, with a plural <i>-s</i>, instead of <b>The Radio Session</b>, which is just so humiliating and depressing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
You cannot and should not expect any particular
greatness or huge surprises from these sessions, for which (the first one at
least) Syd found himself propped and backed by Gilmour on bass and keyboards, and
Jerry Shirley on percussion. All the songs are significantly truncated, usually
about one third to one half shorter than the studio versions, as if Syd had
trouble performing them in full; he probably had, but he is in pretty decent
form anyway — the singing and acoustic rhythm playing are in perfect order
throughout, and if you didnʼt know the details, youʼd very likely just assume
this was supposed to be a nice and relaxed «unplugged» interpretation of the
more heavily and densely arranged studio originals.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
The only new song is ʽTwo Of A Kindʼ, a very
cute and «normal» bouncy Brit-pop number that might as well be mistaken for a Small
Faces song — ironically, its authorship remains disputed between Barrett and Rick
Wright, and since both are dead now, we shall never know the truth anyway, so I
will just assume it was really written by Steve Marriott and Ronnie Lane
instead. Had the song been included on <b>The
Madcap Laughs</b>, as Syd allegedly intended, it would have been the most instantly
accessible song there... perhaps this is why it was not, after all. But it is
always a pleasure to hear Syd sing sweet innocent Brit-pop in that gorgeous
voice of his.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
As for the three songs from 1971, it is hard
to evaluate the quality of the performance just because the sound is so abysmal
— hard to tell if the guitar is <i>really</i>
so much out of key or if it is merely the effect of chewn tape. Its real
historical value is that this is the last ever performance by Syd Barrett, the
solo artist (he did have a couple quickly botched attempts to start up a new
band in the next couple of years), so you can take the awful quality symbolically,
as a metaphor for artistic evaporation, and leave it at that.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
On the whole, as far as desperately salvaged
scraps are concerned, Iʼm sure we have all heard much worse than this — and,
after all, Syd Barrett is perfectly legit as somebody who deserves a cult
following, and any cult following deserves to have desperately salvaged scraps,
so I am definitely more glad that this little piece is on the market than, say,
the umpteenth edition of Dylanʼs <b>Bootleg
Series</b> or another from-the-vault Prince or Frank Zappa release. And any
excuse to take a second to look back upon the short-lived genius of this man,
another member of the «27 club» in all but number, is welcome, as long as it
actually involves listening to his music rather than digging into the dark
druggy details of the last years of his musical career.<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-10034114139848026822020-05-08T19:33:00.003+03:002020-05-08T19:33:41.268+03:00Elvis Presley: Fun In Acapulco<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFLDA-_9CnCl0z5xE6utXUH74l3PPVPJ9Lbxzr6k8c_KDWykszBs1A_Q5DxhkRVQgOFpUKh7qRjTi2LTFY5s_uzPIBYuP9GFFixxfgyk752RemJfV9uNS7FJv0fbnPvqXkToBZjl1XiE/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFLDA-_9CnCl0z5xE6utXUH74l3PPVPJ9Lbxzr6k8c_KDWykszBs1A_Q5DxhkRVQgOFpUKh7qRjTi2LTFY5s_uzPIBYuP9GFFixxfgyk752RemJfV9uNS7FJv0fbnPvqXkToBZjl1XiE/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">ELVIS PRESLEY: FUN IN ACAPULCO (1963)</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></b>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) Fun In Acapulco; 2) Vino, Dinero Y Amor; 3)
Mexico; 4) El Toro; 5) Marguerita; 6) The Bullfighter Was A Lady; 7) (Thereʼs)
No Room To Rhumba In A Sports Car; 8) I Think Iʼm Gonna Like It Here; 9) Bossa
Nova Baby; 10) You Canʼt Say No In Acapulco; 11) Guadalajara; 12) Love Me
Tonight; 13) Slowly But Surely.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: yellow;">One excellent song, a couple nice moments,
and an ocean of bland quasi-Mexican clichés from Elvis "El Toro"
Presley, the Mariachi of Memphis.</span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: yellow;"><br /></span></i></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">With the Hawaiʼian subject explored to the very
bottom, it was time to plunge Elvis into another, as of yet largely untapped
pool of clichés and stereotypes — and so, welcome to Mexico, the land of mariachis,
bullfighters, vino, dinero y amor. (Also rhumbas and bossa novas, though
neither of the two is Mexican, but who cares as long as itʼs all somewhere
south of Kansas?). The movie had Ursula Andress, the first and foremost Bond
girl, as Elvisʼ love interest, which makes it very watchable for fans of
Sixtiesʼ hotties. But the music, alas, features the exact same set of official
composers — Tepper and Bennett at the forefront, followed by Weisman and Wayne,
Bill Giant, Don Robertson, and precisely zero Latin American composers involved
in the process, with the exception, of course, of the original composer of
ʽGuadalajaraʼ, the only genuine Mexican song performed by Elvis in the movie.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Not that I am particularly offended by this
next round of «cultural appropriation», since I am no more a fan of traditional
Mexican music than of traditional Russian music, and from a purely aesthetic
point of view, I donʼt know which one would be worse — having Elvis cover a
bunch of authentic tunes or these cartoonish simulacra of the real thing, like
the emotionally puffed-up heartbreaking tale of ʽEl Toroʼ or the fluffy
moonlight serenade ʽYou Canʼt Say No In Acapulcoʼ. I guess this rendition of
ʽGuadalajaraʼ is barely passable, but it does not even have the intentional
comic value of the Beatles covering ʽBesame Muchoʼ — who really needs Elvis
trying to step into the shoes of a Mexican mariachi?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Anyway, instead of trying to sum up everything
that is wrong about the album (which is pretty much everything), let me instead
try to be much more brief and sum up the few good things about it. First,
ʽ(Thereʼs) No Room To Rhumba In A Sports Carʼ is one of the silliest
innuendo-based tunes in the Elvis catalog — an obvious sexual joke, but at
least it is a refreshing change of pace from all the other generic Latin
American tropes, so thank you, Fred Wise and Dick Manning, for this piece of
dirty clown action. Second, the two bonus tracks which were not part of the
album, but tacked to the end upon the Colonelʼs insistence, are okay: ʽLove Me
Tonightʼ is a decent piano ballad, not genius, but in the good old
stripped-down tradition of ʽLove Me Tenderʼ etc., and ʽSlowly But Surelyʼ
arguably marks the first appearance of fuzz guitar on an Elvis album — a
blues-rocker whose start almost could be mistaken for a cover of ʽSmokestack
Lightningʼ, though it does not truly progress anywhere beyond that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Most importantly, of course, there is always
the question of «that one song» on an Elvis album, and while <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">It Happened At The Worldʼs Fair</b> missed
the mark, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Fun In Acapulco</b> does have
ʽBossa Nova Babyʼ — another Leiber & Stoller classic, this time nicked from
a year-old version by the Clovers. Stoller himself said he preferred the
Clovers version, but there can be no serious objections against Elvisʼ cover,
either. Itʼs fast, itʼs danceable, itʼs ironic <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and</i> celebratory at the same time, itʼs got a pretty hot
instrumental break, and it finds just the right tongue-in-cheek approach to
tackle the clichés. It baffles me that no other songwriter here had managed to
find a similar approach, but then, why should they when all the soft, mushy,
cuddly, clichéd stuff was consistently found so acceptable by the industry
people? At this point, people were flocking to the movies not so much to hear
Elvis as to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">see</i> him — the quality of
the material used for the movie was far less relevant than the quality of the
hairstyle.</span> </div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: yellow;"></span></i></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-660808341284783109.post-16839574567960961122020-05-07T14:46:00.003+03:002020-05-07T14:46:51.323+03:00A Silver Mt. Zion: Born Into Trouble As The Sparks Fly Upward<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7NtYnjyNJiqBKouG9_CnieBJ9BADAzUY2Ppmdk3LPWTA4YiGXiy4_guLO6dyGRVxdZWLB9Q5wgFdzVXu54q-kpHJUvQu4naFFwJatauOl_QjSP4UG0sQOmqbu31gVeP80n1bEVoxOu5k/s1600/full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7NtYnjyNJiqBKouG9_CnieBJ9BADAzUY2Ppmdk3LPWTA4YiGXiy4_guLO6dyGRVxdZWLB9Q5wgFdzVXu54q-kpHJUvQu4naFFwJatauOl_QjSP4UG0sQOmqbu31gVeP80n1bEVoxOu5k/s320/full.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="color: #002060; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; letter-spacing: -.1pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">A SILVER MT. ZION:</span><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; letter-spacing: -.1pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"> BORN INTO TROUBLE AS THE SPARKS FLY UPWARD (2001)</span></b></div>
<b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; letter-spacing: -.1pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span></b>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">1) Sisters! Brothers! Small Boats Of Fire Are
Falling From The Sky!; 2) This Gentle Hearts Like Shot Birdʼs Fallen; 3) Built Then Burnt [Hurrah! Hurrah!]; 4) Take
These Hands And Throw Them In The River; 5) Couldʼve Moved Mountains; 6) Tho
You Are Gone I Still Often Walk W/You; 7) CʼmonCOMEON (Loose An Endless
Longing); 8) The Triumph Of Our Tired Eyes.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;">General verdict: <i><span style="color: yellow;">Seems like a fairly rushed, rightdown lazy
job from the potentially awesome «chamber subset» of GY!BE.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: yellow;"><br /></span></i></span>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It is harder for me to get into Silver Mt.
Zionʼs second album, and not least because they have decided to expand to a
six-piece band now (the album is formally credited to «The Silver Mt. Zion
Memorial Orchestra & Tra-La-La Band», though I must say that the Tra-La-La
Band is largely hiding behind the back of the Memorial Orchestra). Basically,
the more people are gathered around Menuck, the more it begins to resemble
standard GY!BE, while still lacking the energy and monumentality of the latter.
The most obvious case in point would be the penultimate track, ʽCʼmonCOMEONʼ,
an eight-minute crescendo that is totally in GY!Be style, but with very weak
drums and without an impressive main theme — I mean, this is obviously not the
kind of material for which youʼd have to start up a special side project.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The sub-formula that was elaborated on the bandʼs
debut album still works, from time to time, and some of the soundscapes are
impressive — nowhere more so than on the opening track, which might not be
particularly reminiscent of "small boats of fire falling from the
sky", but is still reminiscent of something. On top of the predictably
minimalist piano pattern and subtle neo-classical violin lines the band
overdubs a set of shrill, droning, bee-like string flourishes which add an odd
psychedelic flavour to the overall post-apocalyptic atmosphere. It goes on for
what might seem like an eternity, but length is no enemy for a well-developed
and sonically unusual ambient groove. Unfortunately, already the second track,
ʽThis Gentle Hearts...ʼ, shows that this is not going to be an exceptionless
principle — it sounds like a variation on some baroque flourish that could open
an 18th century opera, looped ad infinitum (well, for five minutes and
forty-five seconds, to be precise), and this is the sort of minimalism that I
could at best tolerate in an open-world video game, but not as a standalone
piece.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The third track, ʽBuilt Then Burnʼ, is melodically
almost indistinguishable from the first one — its only difference is a lengthy
spoken intro, delivered by a kid in the most awkwardly melodramatic fashion
possible, spouting forth neo-Biblical quasi-apocalyptic nonsense that can at
best amuse, at worst seriously irritate (as opposed to, for instance, the
deeply moving Coney Island monolog at the beginning of ʽSleepʼ). Sadly, this
does not feel so much like a variation on GY!BE atmospherics as an amateurish
and uninspired attempt to mimic that atmospherics on a smaller scale, with just
about everything that could go wrong going wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The fourth track introduces singing vocals —
and with Menuck taking a more active role in this endeavour than ever before,
it strikes me how much these Silver Mt. Zion vocal numbers feel like a failed
rehearsal for Arcade Fire: from the loud and martial ʽTake These Handsʼ all the
way to the closing choral lament ʽTriumph Of Our Tired Eyesʼ and its repetitive
slogan of "musicians are cowards, musicians are cowards!", it all
sounds half-baked and tentative. The vocals are there, but they are muddy and
concealed, as if the singer were ashamed of himself, and the accompanying
string parts are restrained and monotonous, as if passion were absolutely not a
requirement for these collective anthems. In fact, structurally ʽTriumph Of Our
Tired Eyesʼ could almost serve as a working model for Arcade Fireʼs ʽIn The Back
Seatʼ, but there is nothing even remotely close to the deep cathartic feeling
caused by the latter in the former.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Of course, if you tie down and gag your
expectations, and simply take this whole thing on the level of «soundtrack to a
lost movie», there is nothing particularly bad about it — the violins and
cellos are stately and pretty in all their neo-classical flair, Menuckʼs
plaintive voice is friendly and humble in all of its Canadian lonesomeness, and
the overall atmosphere does at least match the albumʼs title, taken directly from
the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Book Of Job</i> which is, expectedly,
GY!BEʼs favorite part of the Old Testament (and should be everybodyʼs, I guess).
But this is not right — all of these albums, side projects or not, are vastly
conceptual at heart, and strive, or should strive, at hitting oneʼs emotional
center... which is not that easy to do when you get this nasty intuitive feel
that the band is really sleepwalking through most of this material.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I will still highlight the opening track with
its bumblebee-flavored psychedelia as a relative success, but as for the rest, I
shall just have to assume that the band members were too busy thinking of the
upcoming GY!BE sessions to come up with some seriously thought-out material for
this project. Which is a pity, because, as I have mentioned in the previous review,
I think that the reduced chamber format of Silver Mt. Zion had plenty of
potential.</span> </div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: SimSun; mso-fareast-language: ZH-CN;"><i><span style="color: yellow;"></span></i></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1