my latest cd review for the paper

IN YOUR EAR



Kevin Wood / Daily Yomiuri Staff Writer

Everything Must Go

Steely Dan

Warner Music, 2,400 yen


Back with a new album after a relatively short break this time, Walter Becker and Donald Fagen's follow-up to 2000's album-of-the-year Grammy winner Two Against Nature is more of the same jazz-infused pop soul that made the band one of the greatest of the '70s and '80s.

Becker and Fagen have not mellowed with age, merely honed their dry, dark wit. The differences between Everything Must Go and earlier classics like Aja (1977) and Can't Buy a Thrill (1972) are superficial and tracks from the new album would have been quite at home on any of the band's earlier albums.

Gone are hot studio guitar players like Skunk Baxter and Denny Diaz from the early incarnations of Steely Dan. In their place we find Becker's polished, precise riffs and Fagen's lush horn arrangements.

Fagen's keyboard chops and clear, plaintive voice have lost nothing from the band's heyday, and Becker, in addition to playing all the driving, funky bass on the album, has come up yet another notch on this album from his exceptionally tasty solo guitar work on Two Against Nature. He also makes his debut as a lead vocalist on "Slang of Ages."

From their earliest work, there has always been a decadent feel to Steely Dan's immaculately arranged studio pop. That theme continues here on songs like "Things I Miss the Most," with the singer bemoaning the loss of "the talk, the sex, the somebody to trust, the Audi TT, the house on the Vineyard, the house on the Gulf Coast."

Such delightfully snide criticism of materialism runs through album bookended as it is with "The Last Mall," a singing commercial for an Armageddon day sale, and the title track, a last memo from a corrupt CEO whose corporate malfeasance has caught up with the whole company.

A Steely Dan album is like a chocolate eclair--its arrival gives us pleasure and its departure merely makes us hungry for more.



On and On

Jack Johnson

Universal, 2,427 yen


Former professional surfer and filmmaker Jack Johnson's second album On and On, is, like its creator, a product of Hawaii.

The album was recorded in Johnson's studio there, with one track recorded live, complete with breaking ocean wave accompaniment, at a beach barbecue at his brother's home.

Johnson is reminiscent of that guy you knew in university who played old classic rock tunes on acoustic guitar around the bonfire or in late night dorm-room jam sessions. He wasn't the greatest guitarist or singer, but fun to listen to. Now suddenly that same guy is making hit records, but he hasn't really changed.

By most accounts, Johnson's success as a musician has come almost in spite of his relaxed approach. The intimate feel of On and On gives new meaning to the term "laid back."

Simple three-chord guitar grooves, backed with basic drums and bass and topped with idiosyncratic lyrics delivered in an almost hip-hop cadence make for a folky, eminently listenable, relaxing album.

Despite the laid back feel of On and On there are flashes of poetic cleverness in songs like "The Horizon Has Been Defeated" ("People are lonely and only animals with fancy shoes") and Symbol in My Driveway ("I've got a perfect set of blueprints/I'm gonna build somebody else") and some fairly muscular guitar work that in another setting might seem bombastic, but here acts more like an extra

Gunpowder was invented, not discovered (it doesn't occur naturally and therefore must have been developed by someone) in China in about 300 A.D. but didn't make it to Europe until the middle ages, at least not to stay anyways.

This is enough to make me homesick.

I want to complain about the new quote you put up in place of the Marx. The Andre Maurois one. Gunpowder war was "invented" (I'd say discovered) aprox. A.D. 300, and that's not the middle ages!!!
Mr. Literal

Speaking of chronolgy ...a few historical tidbits for those of an historical bent.

June 17, 1497- Italian explorer Giovanni Caboto, on a mission for the English Crown and therefore known to most of us as John Cabot, 'discovers' Canada (actually for about the third time, but this time the idea caught on in Europe and people remembered where it was.)

June 18, 1876. - Indians 200, Yankees 0 - 200 members of the US. 7th calvary under egotistical moron and genocidal maniac Gen. George Armstrong Custer are wiped out by the Sioux at Little Big Horn, Montana. Also on June 18, 1903 George Orwell is born.

This is mainly to see what "reverse chronological order" will do.
So post something. Like.......

Hey folks, while you're downloading the new Metalica album with your favorite software (nyuck, nyuck).... check this one out.
The more you know Frank Zappa the more you will appreciate the song "Genius in France" on the new Weird Al album. I honestly thought it was going to be about Jerry Lewis. Be warned, its just short of nine minutes long. If you know Frank, that should already be funny. I havent laughed so hard in a loooong time. He does a Dylanesque one called "Bob" too, but I didn't think it was near as good as "Genius". Oh, both are original Al-tunes and not a specific song parody.

Post............ or should I say "sign my poodle".

I swear I've heard that Doors bit done as a song. I think it was L.A. Woman you had to listen to when stealing the car though.

Speaking of comedy ruining perfectly good music. I can no longer listen to The Doors without seeing Bruce McCulloch demand that I steal a car........
The Doors
Transcribed from: Comedy Central
Transcribed by: sheridan01@hotmail.com
Cast-
Bruce- Record Store Clerk
Kevin- Customer
Vito Viscomi- Second Customer
[THE SCENE: An old record store somewhere, presumably Los Angeles. There is a couple looking at records and a Bruce is talking to them.]
Bruce: Yeah...those are all hacked...[shrugs and gestures to couple] Take care.

[The Couple leaves and a Kevin enters the store and begins looking around the record bin.]

Kevin: 'Scuse me.

Bruce: Yeah?

Kevin: Do you have the new Depeche Mode record?

Bruce: Yeah it's over there, [motions to the record bin] but it sucks.

[He continues to work on paperwork.]

Kevin: Well, do you have the latest Pixies album?

Bruce: Yeah, but it sucks. All that new stuff sucks, but it's over there.

Kevin: You know, actually I was thinking of getting into something vintage. Anyway...I don't know, maybe The Doors?

[Bruce spins around and looks at Kevin.]

Bruce: Really! Never had you figured for a Doors fan.

Kevin: I'm not really a Doors fan, but sure I'd like to get into them...

Bruce: No no no my friend! Doors fans aren't made, they're born. I think right now in Africa there's some guy madly beating on a drum. He's a Doors fan. Or an old lady sitting on the bus sucking humbugs. She's a Rider On The Storm, but she ain't never heard the sounds.

[Bruce looks at Kevin and snaps his fingers.]

Bruce: So what about you?

Kevin: Well I heard a record of theirs last night at a party...

Bruce: Yeah?

Kevin: ...and I've always liked Love Her Madly.

Bruce: Well, if you become a Doors fan, Love Her Madly is the only song you won't like.

Kevin: Oh right! [Looking through the record bin eagerly] I guess I should start with the Greatest Hits?!

Bruce: Hey! Greatest Hits are for housewives and little girls!

[He takes the record away from the Kevin and throws it across the store, and starts pushing the Kevin out of the store.]

Bruce: You're not serious! You don't want to be a Doors fan! Get out of my store! We're closed, get out!

[Bruce walks back toward the counter, clearly offended.]

Kevin: No no no no! I want you to show me the way!

Bruce: turns and looks at Kevin with disgust.

Bruce: Was that a Frampton reference in my store?!

[Kevin thinks for a second as a look of terror crosses his face.]

Kevin: No no no no! No lyrics, just words, just words...words?

Bruce: All right if you want to be a Doors fan, you cant just buy any album. It's scientific.

[Bruce goes to the record bin and picks out an album.]

Bruce: You gotta buy this...Waiting For The Sun. It's the departure point.

[Bruce kisses the album tenderly and glances at the credits on the back.]

Bruce: Listen to it around dusk every night for about a month.

[He hands the album to Kevin.]

Kevin: Sounds good! Then what...?

Bruce: Who's playing bass?

[Kevin looks frantically at the back of the record.]

Kevin: Umm duuuu baaaa.... No one?!

Bruce: No bass!

Kevin: No bass?!

Bruce: That's right! The gypsies had no homes, The Doors had no bass. But don't let that scare you, my friend let that liberate you! 'Cause when you're free flying with the Doors, man - what do you need a safety net for?

Kevin: [shouting] Viva Le Doors!

Bruce: Viva Le Doors. But listen, there's a burden that every real Doors fan has got to live with. That's the fact that the greatest rock n' roll band of all time is never going to play live again. You can't live in the past...

Kevin: No wait...there's hope. I heard once that Iggy Pop is going to front them and the Doors are going to tour again!

Bruce: Where did ya hear that?

Kevin: I heard it somewhere...

Bruce: Yeah?!? Read it in your precious Creem Magazine maybe? Well, it's not going to happen.

Kevin: Well how do you know that?

Bruce: Because somebody told me.

Kevin: Well, who told you?

Bruce: Do you wanna know who told me?

Kevin: Well, yeah...

Bruce: Jim Fuckin' Morrisson told me, that's who!!

[Vito runs into the store.]

Vito: Hey! Do you have the new Depeche Mode album?

[Kevin points at Vito and screams...]

Kevin: SUUUUCCKKSS!

[Vito runs out of the store.]

Bruce: I forgive you. Here. [Hands Kevin a copy of Morrisson Hotel] Take this, it's an 8-track tape. It's one of the last in existence. I want you to steal a car...

Kevin: I have a car...

Bruce: Steal a car!

Kevin: Steal a car!!

Bruce: I want you to get in it and drive West. Play the tape full blast. When the tape ends, get out and get into a fight, then get back into the car, come to town and meet me at the Carcas Club.

Kevin: What will you do?

Bruce: I will let you in to the most prestigious hotel of all time...

Kevin: Which is?

Bruce: [rolling his eyes] Mor'son Hotel!

Kevin: Then what?

Bruce: Then, you're gonna be a Doors fan, man.

[A door opens to a bright new future, which the soon to be Doors fan walks through, with his spirit guide, the Bruce.]



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Credit to Kids in the Hall/Broadway Video

just a little something from the kids in the hall for pete and mike.......

Transcribed from: Comedy Central
Transcribed by both: KdsInThHal@aol.com and I Hecubus@aol.com
[Opens with Shadowy Men On A Shadowy Planet playing music, Bruce McCulloch sitting in a chair playing bass. Kevin McDonald appears from behind Bruce]
Kevin: That's the best bass player I ever heard. He's playin' so sweet, I'm gettin' chubby. You know what I like best about the bass player? His neck.

[Bruce bobs his head a few times]

Kevin: Oh, he made a little mistake. You may not have noticed it, but if you did, I think you'll enjoy my tale. Hmmm....

[Singing:] The mother, the father, the serpent, the priest. The foreman, the woman, the widow, the beast.

Hey, bass player. Look at the bass player. Look at that smile, there's sadness in that smile. Look at that chord structure, there's sadness in that chord structure. Look at him flail like the wailin' wall with nothin' but stubby fingers and a dumb look on his face. He don't know it but he's balding...spiritually. But everybody hates the bass player. No one invites the bass player to the party after the show.

Bruce: Hey, what are you guys doin' after the show? Oh, nothin'? Okay.

Kevin: If he does go to the party, he can only get the good looking girl's... best friend.

Bruce: Is Heather coming?

Kevin: [laughing] Heather...The bass player is the loser of the band, yes he is, if you don't believe me take a look at the one you're with. But, there's something beautiful about the bass, sometimes when I listen to it, I--I don't know, I get caught up in the swirl, I'm flying, I'm flying Ma, over a big beautiful lake. He's playing the bass and I'm flying. Sometimes when I land I'm in a different neighborhood, but that's okay, 'cause whenever I listen to the bass player, I always bring cab fare. But after all, aren't we all bass players? Aren't you all bass players? They told me this was a bass players convention, you are all bass... Pick up the beat, pick up the beat. Hide the sadness, and tap your feet.

Singing: The mother, the father, the serpent, the priest. The foreman, the woman, the widow, the beast. Aren't you glad that you're not one?

[Kevin hides behind Bruce's chair and SMOASP begin playing once again]

Adam Little? I don't know him....but this is a big place. In any case, he's not in the email system.
That Prokofiev is James Ehnes - violinist from Brandon, Man. great great great young player.
I have taken up string bass - German bow. Mebbe Rob Clutton can give me some lessons.

np - various artists - Gotta Serve Somebody: The Gospel Songs of Bob Dylan

got a copy of the new Steely Dan cd 'Everything Must Go' for review - Dan definitely still stands up!

I shave about two thirds of my head... God has forever shaved the rest for me.

Music that does not hold up? Hmm. In general I'd say I'm much less willing to listen to aimlessness. I don't mind long solos or space but it's gotta saysomething. I have a hard time with Dead 'tapes', and yes parts of the Allmans at Filmore. But I wonder how much of that is due to the way I listen these days. If I doesed and put on headphones.... who knows. All in all though, with the exception of certain songs, I still like everything I ever have. Just added to it.

Led Zep. I just can't listen without thinking of Spinal Tap. I put on Led Zepelin IV, for the first time in about a decade - Goin' to California? the "punch on the nose/I think I might be sinking" bit? I literaly doubled over with laughter. What a silly band. Odd how thinking of Spinal Tap doesn't change my liking for Kiss or Alice Cooper.

I too have found that some artists I absolutely HATED are now among my favs. Ella Fitzgerald, Frank Sinatra, Meat Loaf, Bach, hell I even like AC/DC now. and what's wrong with the Police Kev? I like 'em more now than I did then.
The last cd I bought that really blew me away was the Benny Goodman 1938 Carnegie Hall Concert - Gene Krupa is a God. That was a couple of years ago though. I'm seriously thinking of going out and picking up this Prokofiev cd I heard a cut from on the radio (violin sonata #2 I think) some guy whose name sounded like Ennes (sp), Freakin' amazing. I'm listening to Body Count now.

Hey Mike, you work at cbc radio? Ever run into a guy called Adam Little? It's been a while but I heard that's where he was working.

I listen to Slug Bait and the Garden Gnomes, Liz Phair and the Ramones; sometimes a spot of Moorceeba (sorry splet that wrong), NoMeansNo, and Art Blakey. I think I listened to Nirvana last night too, but I may have been dreaming. I listened to Surreastic Pillow for the 1st time in about 11 years a few weeks back, gad my brain was j-e-l-l-o after that. It was great.

I also shaved my head and wear safe sex T-shirts when I lecture. Obviously, I get tenure this year.

-Bob

Egads, my regards to the good Dr. Roberts. I'm sure its been fifteen years since I've seen him. In fact I think the last time I saw him was at an Altogether Morris or Doug Feaver gig in Hamilton the night before he left to go to teacher's college at U of Western Ont.

my latest book review for the paper......sorry about the length.


Vernon God Little
By DBC Pierre
Published by Faber and Faber
Price:

By Kevin Wood
Daily Yomiuri Staff Writer
Acid-tongued author Dorothy Parker once remarked, “If you can’t say anything nice, come sit down next to me."
Judging by the delightfully dark and vicious satire of Vernon God Little, author DBC Pierre ought to pull up a chair.
“Dirty But Clean” Pierre is the pen name of Australian-born British novice author Peter Findlay, who reportedly grew up in Mexico and now lives in Ireland. How much first-hand experience Findlay has had with small town America is an open question, but in Vernon God Little he shows us the face of Martirio, Texas, highlighting every scar, wart, pimple and wrinkle in a way it hasn’t been done since Sherwood Anderson’s Winesburg, Ohio.
Vernon God Little – A 21st Century Comedy in the Presence of Death was a hit with critics in Britain, but the book has not been published in the United States and given the subject matter, it isn’t likely to see print there any time soon.
The book is a darkly comic account of the aftermath of a Columbine-style massacre at a small town high school, told in fluent profanity by Vernon G. Little. The G stands for Gregory, but also for Genius, God, Gonad, Gucci, Godzilla—an ever-changing middle name that is one of several running jokes in the novel.
Vernon, 15, was spared in the massacre by the need to move his bowels while running an errand for his teacher. When he returns to the school, his best friend, long the target of his classmates’ homophobic and racist abuse, is dead by his own hand, having first gunned down his entire class. As the only survivor, Vernon is sure he is about to become the town’s “skate-goat” and the novel opens with him being interrogated by an a swinish and sadistic barbecue-eating sheriff’s deputy who is convinced there must have been a second gunman.
“When the rubbing of her thighs has faded, I crane my nostrils for any vague comfort; a whiff of warm toast, a spearmint breath. But all I whiff, over the sweat and the barbecue sauce, is school—the kind of pulse bullyboys give off when they spot a quiet one, a wordsmith, in a corner. The scent of lumber being cut for a f----- cross.”
As the media descends en masse on the “barbecue sauce capital of America” and the minions of the law get closer to a misleading, but nonetheless damning piece of evidence, Vernon is too embarrassed to reveal his fecal alibi. His mother seems more concerned with materialistic one-upmanship, sleeping with a sleazy reporter and “trolling the town for sympathy” than doing anything to help her son, though she does reassure him in front of the police and press that “Even murderers are loved by their families, you know.” Vernon decides to head for Mexico, only to have every murder in the state tacked onto the list of crimes he’s now wanted for.
Vernon’s eventual capture, trial and incarceration on a death row that has been turned into a “reality TV” series in which viewers vote on which inmate should be executed next, ends happily -- as all comedies should, with Vernon's returns to his small-town life in a world more Jerry Springer than Norman Rockwell.
The cast of characters are named with a flair worthy of Thomas Pynchon: Sheriff Porkorney and his deputy Vaine Gurie, housewife Leona Dunt, journalistic poseur Eulalio ‘Lally’ Ledesma, sensitive teacher Marion Knuckles, high school redneck Lothar ‘Lard-Ass’ Larbey.
The author has managed to capture the profanity-laden vernacular of 15-year-old boys to perfection and voice of Vernon is absolutely authentic. Vernon’s near-miss cultural references to “Princess Debbie, or whoever the princess was who died” and “Ricardo Moltenbomb, or whoever Mom’s favorite was who had the dwarf on Fantasy Island” provide a comic counterpoint of innocence to the to petty maneuverings of the likes of Leona Dunt, an “almost pretty blonde with a honeysuckle voice you know got its polish from rubbing on her last husband’s wallet” who “only shows up when she has at least two things to brag about.”
It would be a mistake to write the book off as simply another tasteless swipe at pop culture. Many doubtless have been offended by the notion of a humorous take on something as horrific as the Colombine massacre and Vernon God Little is a merciless, nasty and at times intentionally offensive piece of work. However, it is also screamingly funny, truer than any of the news coverage of similar events and written with exceptional skill. By turning the satiric razor on such a tragic event, the author manages to provide some insight into how and why such hideous incidents occur. As the collective memory of the real tragedy fades, Vernon God Little is apt to gradually acquire the status of a vulgarian Catcher in the Rye.

Working at CBC Radio, I have access to tens of thousands of CDs through the record library. (Pause) Ohgodilovethisjob. I've been revisiting some of the same things, including the legendary Dr. Sardonicus, which I still love. The Dead is a little more difficult for me these days, as are a few other things. Even better is digging out the old vinyl and playing that, because it sounds better anyway to my ears and induces less listening fatigue (a real occupational hazard in what i do for a living).
By the by, I'm playing with Compton again in Edgar Breau's band....and the guitarist from Teenage Head took my pop music history class a couple of years back. We almost collaborated on a Teenage Head history, but in the end....didn't.

Ah an excellent question from mr. Johnston. The things that stand up and the things that don't are not always what one might expect. I still love the blues stuff on the Alllman bros. Fillmore east album and I think some of the more self indulgent stuff still stands up, like 'whipping post' and mountain jam - though the later is a bit long. Oddly enough stuff I didn't think would stand up like Spirit's The Twelve Dreams of Dr. Sardonicus, a psychedelic gem, are just as great now (Animal Zoo still kicks as hard as it did when the fabulous 'winged marsupials' covered it and the rest of the disc still gets me - "You've got a smile that turns me on") Stuff that was very poppy back in the day doesn't fare quite as well - anyone listen to their Police albums lately?- and don't even get me started on the stuff I thought was crap back then that is trying to come back like Duran Duran (although I think there might be a market for a punk cover band that changes the lyrics to be all about the Kennedys and is named Sirhan, Sirhan, but that is a totally different and much more tasteless story) Elvis Costello now ranks as one of the great songwriters for me, whereas back when he was popular I had little time for him aside from his watching the detective album. Ditto the clash - I liked them back in the 80's but they were hardly a favorite. The Beatles, the Stones, Zep and Pink Floyd still stand up, as do the Dead - though I am much more interested in Jerry's acoustic bluegrass stuff these days than yet another 80's bootleg with 'touch of grey' or 'Brown eyed women'.
I'd have to say that the bands I like in high school - largely thanks to being exposed to them by Brent and Clutton and Pentilchuk and Daley and to a large degree later on by Hoffman - are still groups that stand up now. Of course most of them were no longer popular when I got turned onto them (not many Jefferson Airplane fans around my high school in 1984, except for Compton Roberts) What amazes me are the band that were around then that I had no interest in at the time, labelling them New Wave or just plain Lame that I now appreciate like Talking Heads and Elvis Costello and Dead Milkmen.

The next question is what are all of us former sixties rock fans listening to now?

So, having read this my question is: Did they serve Freedom fries to the evacuees or just a heaping helping of crow?

CDs Revisited
I'm sure that I am not alone in buying CD versions of vinyl albums that I one adored. I find this a fascinating experience - there can be as much as a ten or fifteeen year gap between the last time I listened to the vinyl and when I buy the CD. It is very surprising what stands the test of time, and what doesn't.

For example I used to love that Allman Brothers album "At Filmore East" so I bought the CD. The first few blues numbers stand up (Stormy Monday is sublime). However the rest of the album - the improvisational jazz rock bit - is over indulgent nonsense and I can't bear to listen to it.

On the other hand, one of my most prized CDs is Teenage Head's "Frantic City", which to me sounds as fresh and vibrant as the day I first heard it. A tight band, superb guitar playing, and truly original vocals from Frankie Venom...what more could you want.

My question to the Woodshed is what stands the test of time, and what doesn't?

Hamish

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check the list of words not to use when writing a song according to steely dan