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Tindersticks :: The Waiting Room

Hey, we could put on our shoes / we can celebrate when our hearts break and go laughing to that noose…”

That line, from “Slippin’ Shoes” off Tindersticks’ 2012 LP Something Rain, reads as something of a thesis statement for the Nottingham band, now 25 years into its career and sounding fresh, vibrant and brilliant as ever. That record and their latest, the recently released The Waiting Room, find the band at a creative peak — flourishing the melancholy and maudlin with beautiful visions of light and streaks of orchestral jazz. Stuart Staples is a master vocalist, employing his voice to convey the dramatic, the sentimental and the sullen. His poetry is draped in a swirl of organs, strings, horns, glockenspiels - a noir landscape for his observations on mystery, nostalgia, regret, beauty and hope.

The Waiting Room begins with the plaintive instrumental “Follow Me,” led by a chromatic harmonica (shades of John Barry’s Midnight Cowboy theme are immediately conjured), with tribal drumming and shimmering strings quietly playing underneath. We first hear Staples on “Last Chance Man.” His gloomy, entrancing vocals dimming the lights alongside a mournful organ. “I found love / before I could identify it / I found grace / before I could be mystified it,” he sings, a late realization at a love that enlightened him. As the percussion and saxophones start to ascend, Staples approaches a second chance. The horns sounds like a new lease on life as Staples promises to do it right this time, his cadence picking up speed. He’s feeling it all this time; this is where he thrives: the last chance.

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BBC Radiophonic Workshop :: Fourth Dimension (1973)

Library music in excelsis. RIP the glorious workhorse that was the BBC Radiophonic Workshop -    the outfit tasked with the creation of music and sound effects for all BBC programming between 1958 to 1998. Enter Fourth Dimension - a 1973 Radiophonic Workshop library recordings release comprised solely of composer Paddy Kingsland's work.

Dig in to the synthesized funk that is "Vespucci", below. "Doctor Who" this is not.

BBC Radiophonic Workshop :: Vespucci

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The Darker Side of Diddley

One does not need to know much about  Bo Diddley to understand his contribution to the musical landscape as we know it. The "Bo Diddley Rhythm" he made famous was a tremendous influence on r&b, the early rock and rollers that followed, and beyond. I love all that stuff. There is something so perfectly gritty and grimy about it - all held together with that incessant, driving beat.

I'm also drawn to the darker side of the man's work. When we first started Chances with Wolves we were looking for songs that felt a certain . . .

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On The Occasion of Chicago Guitarist Terry Kath’s 70th Birthday

I think about Terry Kath every time a rock star dies. We've become accustomed to the cycle. It's how we process the death of famous people now. The social media churn. The first 24 hours of wall-to-wall Facebook. The headlines, the think pieces, the tributes, the sharing of video. Then it gradually dissipates over the next 72 hours, until you are left alone with your own muscle memory - the way you identified with the artist yourself. You are alone with the artist, again.

Terry Kath shot himself in the head while fooling around with a 9mm handgun one week shy of his 32nd birthday, January 23, 1978. His last words were, according to bandmate James Pankow, "What do you think I’m gonna do? Blow my brains out?’ I found out about this by reading the October 16, 1978 People magazine cover story on Chicago while waiting to get my haircut in a local barbershop in Plainview, Long Island. I was eleven years old. There was a photo spread of the Chicago band members with their wives and babies. I remember a wave of nausea coming over me as I pored over the article in a disbelieving stupor. It made no sense at all. Terry Kath was my first experience with feeling something profound around a death. The sensation would soon become all-too familiar, with Keith Moon, Bonzo and others to follow. The difference was that news of Terry Kath's death was traumatic for me, and I use that word with no irony, and with all its potency.

Now it's 38 years on. It looks like we could see a little revival of appreciation for the great Chicago guitarist and singer now that his band is headed into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. His daughter, Michelle Kath Sinclair, only two when her father passed, has completed a documentary about her dad. She seems like a very sincere person who wants to get the Terry Kath story right, not just for the world but for herself, by learning as much as she can about a father she never really knew.

Chicago is one of the most commercially successful bands of all time, having sold well over 100 million records worldwide. Each one of Chicago's eleven albums preceding Kath's death went platinum. That kind of sustained success seems unfathomable today. Eleven albums is a sizable body of work for anyone, and there is plenty of Terry Kath to listen to, including lead vocals on indelible hits like "Colour My World", "Wishing You Were Here", and "Make Me Smile", still heard in taxi cabs and piped into retail stores across the US every single day. His voice is a mellow baritone sounding most like bandmate Robert Lamm, his hero Jimi Hendrix, and Ray Charles. There are plenty of great moments to discover, notably the soulful "Hope For Love" from Chicago X; the experimental, corrosive "Free Form Guitar" from Chicago Transit Authority (Chicago's very own mini-'Metal Machine Music', which pissed off fans immensely, recorded in one take); the bluesy strut of "In the Country" from Chicago II; "Little One" from Chicago XI, written by Danny Seraphine about his daughters but sung by Kath (touching to hear today if you think about Kath singing those words to Michelle); the loose, gritty "Mississippi Delta City Blues" written and sung by Kath and recorded for Chicago V, eventually surfacing on Chicago XI. Hendrix was supposedly a big fan of Kath's guitar playing, and Kath wrote the expansive, tripped out "Oh, Thank You Great Spirit" for Jimi on Chicago VII. He was supposedly set to start work on a solo album at the time of his death. We get a hint of what that might have sounded like on the stirring 7:47 "Tell Me," which is not on a Chicago album - an edited version of the track was used in the final episode of Miami Vice.

Kath killed himself four months after Chicago XI was released. The band was already contemplating a new direction as it would be the last album overseen by producer James William Guercio. Upon reading it again after 38 years, there are several interesting revelations in the People Magazine article I read in the barber shop. Robert Lamm says of Guercio : "Somewhere around our album Chicago V it went from 'being taken care of' to being manipulated. It was part him, part us . . .we were naive and idealistic and stuck to the music. Jimmy produced some great albums and encouraged and supported us financially in the beginning. But then he got up on a mountain and gave directives. It didn't wear well." It wasn't just a business or musical direction that shifted in the aftermath; there was a marketing conundrum. The massively successful band had no identifiable star power.

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Cian Nugent :: Night Fiction

Cian Nugent has been primarily known for his instrumental work, both as a Takoma School-inspired fingerpicker and an electrifying bandleader (as heard on his incredible 2013 LP with the Cosmos, Born With The Caul). Night Fiction sees him slipping into a more traditional singer-songwriter role -- and making it look like no big thing.

The album's seven songs swing and swagger, calling . . .

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SIRIUS/XMU :: Aquarium Drunkard Show (Noon EST, Channel 35)

Our weekly two hour show on SIRIUS/XMU, channel 35, can be heard twice every Friday — Noon EST with an encore broadcast at Midnight EST.

SIRIUS 420: Jean Michel Bernard - Générique Stephane ++W-X - Intro ++ Singers & Players - Thing Called Love ++ Snakefinger - The Model ++ Glenn Mercer - Twenty-Nine Palms ++ David Bowie - A New Career In A New Town ++ Brian Eno - Dead Finks Don’t Talk ++ Ty Segall - Diversion ++ Lilliput - Die Matrosen ++ Fat White Family - Satisfied ++ Silver . . .

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Benji Hughes :: The Aquarium Drunkard Interview

Way back in 2008, Benji Hughes released a genuinely weird and supremely pleasurable record called A Love Extreme. It was, in all the best ways, an oddity. Released by New West, primarily known for Americana and alt-country, Hughes' record was pure pop -- crunchy guitars, big drums, monster hooks, his thick, narcotized voice booming. In his review of the record for Esquire, Chuck Klosterman cited Cody Chesnutt . . .

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The I Don’t Cares :: Wild Stab / Paul Westerberg & Juliana Hatfield

It's been a minute since we've heard from Paul Westerberg. That's a funny sentiment considering the non-stop Replacements-fest that went on from 2012 through last year's final run of tour dates. But the Westerberg who appeared alongside Messrs. Stinson, Minehan and Freese for that astounding run was a man reliving his past and having fun with it, not someone stretching his creative spirit. That reunion came on the heels of what had been one of the most fertile and interesting periods . . .

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Gimmer Nicholson :: Christopher Idylls

Did Big Star secretly record an album of delicate acoustic guitar instrumentals for pioneering new age label Windham Hill? They most certainly did not -- but Christopher Idylls by Gimmer Nicholson is about as close as we'll get to such a dream project. Recorded in the late 1960s (but not released until the 1990s), the album is seeing its vinyl debut soon, thanks to the good people at Light in the Attic.

The Big Star connection is explicit: Nicholson made Christopher . . .

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Robert Stillman :: Rainbow

Expat composer Robert Stillman calls East Kent in the United Kingdom home these days, but there's an undeniably American thread running through his new album, Rainbow, out now via Orindal Records.

Born in Maine, Stillman's collaborated as a multi-instrumentalist with members of Grizzly Bear and Here We Go Magic songwriter Luke Temple, but on this album he works alone, layering breathy sax, electric and acoustic piano, field recordings,  fluttering woodwinds, and splashy drums into a wooly  tapestry that invokes the astral jazz of Alice Coltrane, the . . .

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Ty Segall :: Emotional Mugger

In a goofball YouTube promo, Dr. Ty Segall, PhD defines “emotional mugging” as a “psychoanalytic subject-to-subject exchange formed as a response to our hyper-digital sexual landscape.” So sizing one another up, frontin’, a cold barrier of distraction, the practice of impenetrable differentiation… This silly promo vid is of special import because I think Ty’s trying to get all psychological on us in bigger way. On his last proper full-length under his own name, Manipulator, Ty inhabited a full-blown . . .

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Glenn Mercer :: Twenty-Nine Palms

Following the 2009 reissue  of the first two Feelies albums  (converting a whole new generation of fans and spreading the Jersey group’s influence), Bar-None Records will release the group’s third and fourth records, 1988’s  Only Life  and 1991’s  Time for a Witness, on  March 11.

The Feelies have been keeping busy since their “revival,” releasing a new record in 2010 and touring regularly. However, last year, front . . .

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Tom Jones :: The Aquarium Drunkard Interview

Like all good music biographies, Tom Jones'  Over the Top and Back  features some choice gunplay. While recording in 1963 with the legendary Joe Meek—with whom the fledgling singer hoped to score a hit—the producer warned Jones about his microphone etiquette.  After botching another take, Meek furiously approached Jones. "He said, 'Didn't I tell you to back off that microphone?'" Jones says. "He pulled out . . .

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Mysterious Travelers: Early Live Weather Report

Last year, Columbia/Legacy released a four-disc set of Weather Report called The Legendary Live Tapes, drawing on the band at their commercial peak: 1977-83. You know, the Jaco Pastorius years, when they toured records like Heavy Weather or Mr. Gone.

The thing is, this is a period that’s been well documented already. First on 1979’s 8:30 double LP, then on 1998’s Live and Unreleased. To be fair, this was when the band was at it’s most popular and, arguably, at their creative peak. In the liner notes to 8:30, Joe Zawinul said “every night was an event.” It was also when their music was, in a word, accessible: slick, poppy and funk-influenced. There’s a reason “Birdland” helped break the band to a new audience, after all.

But they weren’t always like this, especially on stage. You can hear snatches of it on their second record I Sing the Body Electric, the second half is drawn from a 1972 gig in Tokyo (later expanded for release as Live in Tokyo). But largely, it’s a grey area, unexplored in re-issues and mysterious to all but jazz buffs. Let’s dive in.

Weather Report formed in late 1970, with Zawinul, Wayne Shorter, Alphonse Mouzon and Miroslav Vitous. They recorded their first record with Airto Moirera on percussion, but once they hit the road he’d been replaced by Dom Un Romao. Where their first, self-titled record sounds ethereal, almost mysterious, as a live act they quickly gelled into a dense, almost funky style of jazz.

One of my favorite examples of their early sets are the songs “Tears” and “Umbrellas,” often segued into each other when played live. This performance, taken from a November 1971 show in Vienna, gives a good example of their early power, with both Shorter and Zawinul playing off each other and Vitous going nuts on his upright bass, a thundering buzz giving their low end a punch and the band three different leads, with Mouzon keeps everything from going off the rails.

Weather Report :: Tears > Umbrella (1971)

In what would become a common move for the band, Mouzon left the band after this tour and was replaced by Eric Gravatt. Although Zawinul claimed he’d never heard him play before, he’d later say Gravatt was his “favorite drummer of them all.” Indeed, Gravatt quickly fit into the band, as the live sections of I Sing the Body Electric show — all the more surprising, given he’d only joined the band a couple of months prior.

By the end of 1972, the group was hitting its stride, expanding songs like “Unknown Soldier” and “Vertical Invader” to nearly 20 minutes apiece. But the biggest difference comes on older material, where Gravatt’s drumming gives their music jazzier edge and propels the band forward. A show at Cleveland’s Agora Theatre is a good example of this band, which had grown in confidence, giving their older material a boost, like this driving version of “Directions.”

Weather Report :: Directions (10-17-72)

However, this lineup was also short-lived. In 1973, during the sessions for Sweetnighter, Zawinul brought in new musicians to work with the band: drummer Herschel Dewllingham and bassist Andrew White. It coincided with a new direction in Zawinul’s writing, which was starting to dominate the band’s songbook. On more funk-influenced tracks like “Boogie Woogie Waltz” and “125th Street Congress,” Gravatt barely played if at all; White played an electric bass while Vitous played his upright.

However, when it came time to tour the record in summer 1973, Weather Report brought in a new drummer - Greg Errico, fresh out of Sly and the Family Stone — but kept Vitous in the fold. The group was all the better for it, as this lengthy performance of “Boogie Woogie Waltz” shows. Here, Errico’s drumming is more straight forward than either Gravatt or Mouzon’s, but finally gives their music the groove Zawinul’s composition hints at. With his steady backbeat, the group launches into a lengthy jam, well past the already lengthy performance released on Sweetnighter and gives Vitous, Shorter and Zawinul room to improvise. No wonder Zawinul said they stopped playing it live because nobody played it as well as Errico.

Weather Report :: Boogie Woogie Waltz (8-23-73)

More changes followed this tour. Errico split before recording with the band, and two more drummers were recruited: Skip Hadden and Ishmael Wilburn. And although Vitous was still around for some of the recording sessions for Mysterious Traveler, Alphonso Johnson was brought to play electric bass. Almost immediately his playing changed the group’s dynamic: listen to the difference between “American Tango” and “Cucumber Slumber,” two back-to-back tracks on Mysterious Traveler. It was a turning point for the group: a Rolling Stone review called it “their most complete and perfect statement.”

By early 1975, they were becoming a formidable live act, too, although one still in flux: Wilburn left in 1974 and they burned through a few more drummers before settling on Chester Thompson (fresh from a stint in Frank Zappa) for a tour the following year. His style harkens more to their jazz roots, but with Johnson’s furious basslines, has as much power as a freight train. Listen closely and you can hear seeds of what was coming down the pipe on live performances like this one, taken from a show in Paris in November 1975: Thompson holding down a furious rhythm and Johnson’s driving, fast-paced bass, often answering Zawinul’s keyboard workouts.

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Clarence Reid / Blowfly :: In Memoriam

We lost  Clarence Reid last week. While the world at large may know him from his notorious alter ego ('dirty rapper' Blowfly), Reid was quite possibly the most important figure on the Miami soul scene that blossomed in the late '60s, becoming massive throughout the 1970s. Although a very prolific artist himself, Clarence saw far greater success as a brilliant songwriter (Betty Wright's "Clean Up Woman" being a shining example, and probably his biggest hit).

Clarence turns in a superb performance, here, that is wrought with emotion, and the expressive drumming pushes the song into a mini-masterpiece of southern soul. (Note, his name was misspelled on the release.)

Clarence Reid :: I'm Sorry Baby (1967)

The well of excellent songs that were penned (usually co-written with a partner) is both deep, and VERY satisfying. Shortly before their smooth, Philly soul period, Harold Melvin & company recorded this all-out burner that, in an ideal world, would have been a smash hit. Note: even though this group had released several earlier records where Harold Melvin was given top billing, for whatever reason they are simply The Blue Notes here. Undoubtedly the same group, though.

The Blue Notes :: Hot Thrills And Cold Chills (1969)

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