Tell Tchaikovsky the News

Chuck Berry passed away last weekend, so I’m going to devote this post to the man himself.

I first got introduced to the music of Chuck Berry when I was in 9th grade. My dad had quite a bit of his music in his library and it just clicked with me right away… I was just discovering rock n’ roll in a very strange chapter in my life and the do-or-die attitude of his music connected with me immediately.

It wasn’t until a little bit later when I truly began to understand just how important he was. I was obsessed with the Beatles and the Rolling Stones and I couldn’t help but notice these names of other people that would show up in the credits of their early albums, particularly one C. Berry. It’s incredible to think of how many careers Chuck Berry is responsible for, especially in the case of the Stones. For one thing, his guitar playing was so sophisticated and intricate but it still had a toughness to it that no doubt appealed to many an angst-ridden teenager in the midst of the clean-cut 1950’s…Sure, he was heavily influenced by other players like T-Bone Walker, but he still managed to always have his own distinct sound…

The thing that really, really knocked me out though was his uncanny way with words… Many people view rock n’ roll songwriting as dumb cliches hastily strung together, but Chuck’s lyrics always focused on everyday life with an incredibly detailed and witty sensibility… When listening to songs like Maybellene or Johnny B. Goode, the energy is practically bursting from the speakers, it’s still amazing after all these years…

I remember one day after a really bad day at school, I was driving home with my dad and he played School Days… the lyrics just grabbed me right away, it just about described my day verbatim. When he got to the lyric “the guy behind you won’t leave you alone” I couldn’t help but laugh and I felt that things weren’t so bad after all. That was the first time I really understood just how important music can be… Chuck Berry had a wonderful ability to connect with people of all ages and his music will last forever, long after we’re dead and gone…

R.I.P. Chuck Berry, you were the king of them all

Stop Stop Stop (1966)

When I’m listening to music, there are few moments I love more than when a particularly unusual lyric comes out of nowhere and makes you think “Wait, what did they just say?” Things like that are capable of completely changing one’s perception of the overall mood of the song, be it one of PJ Harvey’s gripping psychodramas or even Elvis Presley singing about wearing a chain around his neck and being dragged around by his lover in “Let Me Be Your Teddy Bear”

The first instance I can remember being struck by really strange lyrics that really grabbed my attention immediately was when I first heard an underrated gem entitled “Stop Stop Stop” by that severely underrated group, the Hollies. They were masters of the 60’s pop single, but since they weren’t an album oriented group they sometimes get categorized among lesser bands of the period unfortunately. I remember driving in the car with my mom listening to the oldies station in Lancaster, which would play some really great overlooked 60’s records that I never would have discovered on my own. You would usually have to sit through some Freddie and the Dreamers and Peter and Gordon, but it would be worth it to hear that Kinks song with the killer drum break. Anyway, out of nowhere this song came on that just sounded different in every way.

The song’s lyrics tell the story of a guy who is so enraptured by a dancer that he becomes confused and uncomfortable by these feelings as he watches captivated at the sweat “falling just like teardrops running from her head” What a line! As the song progresses, he attempts to make a move by stumbling into the spotlight and creating an awkward situation before he gets promptly kicked out of the establishment. By the end of the song, we find that this a regular occurrence for our protagonist as he explains, “Can’t they understand that I want her Happens every week” It’s really cool how they managed to tell a story with a beginning, middle, and end within the span of 2:48 and though I was bewildered at the abstract nature of the lyrics at the time, the lyrics of this song would come to my mind while attending many a high school party in which everybody seemed to be having an infinitely better time than I was.

What really makes this record is the marriage between the lyrics and the music. The Hollies were a tight group, from the harmonies of Allan Clarke, Graham Nash, and Tony Hicks down to the excellent drumming of Bobby Elliott. 1966 was a year in which many bands incorporated elements of Indian music into their work (for which George Harrison is directly responsible), but the Hollies added a twist by deciding to use a banjo instead of a sitar and it works spectacularly. The song’s structure is very simple, 3 chords with the verse consisting of a one chord vamp, it works very well as it just builds up so much tension from the very first note that you almost feel like the character in the story is slowly going insane. The chorus is a perfect payoff, with those signature harmonies accentuated by crashing cymbals provided by Mr. Elliott that are so vivid that they really put you in the place and atmosphere of the lyrics. When we were in the car, the song was only half way through when we got home and I made my mom leave the car running in the driveway so I could hear the rest of this song…When I think of songs that are just perfect in every way, this is definitely one of them

Drifting Along

One of the most interesting things about looking into the behind-the-scenes information of songs is that sometimes it can give a song a completely new dimension. A perfect example of this is a record that I’ve been rather obsessed with lately, “I Don’t Want To Go On Without You” by that unsung group of the 1950’s and 1960’s, the Drifters. While the group is known for quite a few classic songs, the lineup of the group was constantly changing so as a result quite a few members have become unfortunately anonymous to most music listeners (apart from Clyde McPhatter and Ben E. King who both had successful solo careers after stints with the Drifters)

I must admit, when I first heard this song it didn’t exactly blow me away. I was so used to the A-Side of this single, “Under the Boardwalk”, that the B-Side felt pretty average to me. Yet there was something about the song that really intrigued me for some reason. Fast forward a few months later. I happened to read a Wikipedia article about the Drifters and there was a passage about the recording session of this session that really altered the song completely for me: “the song was recorded in May 1964 under the direction of songwriter and producer Bert Berns. After the death of The Drifters’ lead singer, Rudy Lewis, who unexpectedly died of a heroin overdose the night before, the song was led by longtime Drifters tenor Charlie Thomas.” What at first seemed to be a lament towards a lost love turned into an incredibly moving tribute towards a lost friend. It really says a lot about the passion of Charlie Thomas (who delivers a tremendous performance in his first lead vocal spotlight) and the Drifters that instead of cancelling a recording session, they decided to channel their pain and sorrow into a beautiful send-off for Rudy Lewis, a man who lived a rather difficult life.

What a beautiful song this is. Bert Berns’ arrangement is so delicate and fragile, you can really feel the pain that Charlie is going through. I especially love the direct feeling of the minimal lyrics, particularly the line: “Here in the gloom of my lonely room, I hold her handkerchief and smell her sweet perfume.” What a great line, it’s so painfully honest that it just really connects the listener with that feeling of desperation whenever a loved one is no longer with us, be it a friend or lover. And like all great songs, once it’s over I find myself playing it right from the beginning once it’s over.

Since so many musicians of that era go unrecognized for some great performances on underrated records, I’d just like to say that Charlie Thomas did an absolutely terrific send-off for someone who clearly meant a lot to him. I’ve shed a tear listening to this song before and it serves as a great example of how music can be used to help overcome a painful experience or situation.

Reflections on Buddy Holly (1936-1959)

It’s hard to believe that Buddy Holly would have been 80 years old today. He died so young that the image that remains of him is one of perpetual youth frozen in time, I can’t even imagine what he would have looked like at 80 years old. Out of all the musicians that have influenced me, Buddy Holly has and always will be my number one influence, which makes it all the more frustrating that the world will never know how his music would have sounded like in the 1960’s. Would he have collaborated with the people he inspired, like the Beatles and Bob Dylan? Would he have ended up making that album with Ray Charles that he always wanted to make? If this were an ideal world, we never would have to ask ourselves these questions.

In remembrance of Mr. Holly, I thought that it would be appropriate to write an entry about my all time favorite song, “Listen to Me” (from the 1958 album “Buddy Holly”) My sophomore year of high school was an unforgettable one, as it was a time of fun yet an extremely difficult and frustrating period as I was going through some problems with my family. Music was the one thing that helped keep me in a positive light during some very negative surroundings. When I was visiting my mother who lives in a different city about 3 hours away from me, I was highly disillusioned about the music that I was starting to grow out of, testosterone driven 70’s classic rock. I just thought to myself “Wow, this has absolutely nothing to do with my life at all.” Before I went to Lancaster, I bought a second-hand tape of an artist that I wasn’t too familiar with, Buddy Holly. The tape was a greatest hits compilation entitled “20 Golden Greats.” During one beautiful and starry Autumn night, I decided to play the tape and when I heard those songs I just remember the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. The songs were so simple, but I was completely knocked out by the honesty of his singing and guitar playing (Never has a Stratocaster sounded so bright and joyful) As an extremely shy person in school, I was really impressed that this lanky guy with the glasses could make music that said so much with so little, that do-it-yourself attitude of his inspired me greatly, and to top it all off the guy knew how to rock ‘n’ roll. When I heard “Listen to Me,” the ethereal guitar solo brought tears to my eyes. It’s moments like those that you live for as a music listener.

Rest in peace, wherever you are Buddy Holly. Although I’ve changed a great deal since those days in high school, your music will always be a part of my life. Whenever I need to be reminded of the joy of life and how important it is to always be yourself no matter what anyone else says, I listen to Buddy Holly and the Crickets.

Just Like a Ballgame on a Rainy Day

As someone who spends a lot of time listening to music whenever I’m going to work or running errands, etc. it’s almost as if I have an impromptu soundtrack underscoring various everyday activities.Sometimes though a song will always take me back to certain incidents that occurred while listening to them and as a result I am always taken back to that moment in time whenever I hear it, for better or worse.

One song that accompanied a rather absurd incident in my life is “I Feel So Bad” by Chuck Willis, a rather obscure rhythm and blues singer who perished very early on his career unfortunately. He’s a very good singer and the song is just a very groovy number (the drummer really nails it on this one) that has been memorably covered by Elvis Presley and Little Milton (I recommend both of these versions as well) I remember the day very well. After spending a really enjoyable night at a friend’s house staying up until the early hours of the morning, I awoke the next day with the most horrific hangover imaginable. Despite my ill condition, I foolishly decided I was in good enough condition to still make it to work later that afternoon. I was doing okay, but as the day went on, I began to feel worse and worse. I walked to the the bus station and caught the 309 to get to my job which was about a 40 minute bus ride away. Throughout all this, I was listening to my music in a vain attempt to keep myself in light spirit which needless to say was not working. About half way through the bus ride, I was beginning to realize that I was on the verge of throwing up in a bus in front of a dozen or so people. As my face turned a whiter shade of pale, I steadfastly attempted to make it through the journey and to make things worse, I had a splitting headache. Then, the aforementioned song began playing as Chuck began singing the blues. In the song, our protagonist tells of how he “feels so bad, just like a ballgame on a rainy day” To say that I felt like a rained out baseball game at that moment would have been a gross understatement, but I nonetheless identified with what he was saying. So much, in fact, that I threw up inside a plastic bag that I fortunately had inside of my backpack that I had with me for the remainder of the song. All I remember after that was feeling horrifically embarrassed and the girl who was sitting at the other end of the bus coming up to me and asking me if I was okay with genuine concern. “I’m okay,” I lied as I could feel all traces of energy wiped away from my body in one fell swoop. I got off the bus, promptly threw away my backpack, walked into work, went straight towards the back of the store and lied down on the floor on my back for what must have been an hour. Nobody noticed.

Whenever I hear that song, I always remember that day and though I was highly embarrassed by it at the time, now I can’t help but laugh at that strange, strange day. Who knows, maybe good ol’ Chuck Willis had a good laugh about it wherever he maybe. I doubt he ever thought that one of his songs would provide the soundtrack to a teenager’s hangover 60 years later.

R.I.P. Bobby Hutcherson (1941-2016)

I was very saddened to hear about the passing of the great Bobby Hutcherson yesterday. It appears that the grim reaper is working overtime this year as more and more excellent musicians enter the sweet afterlife. As the number of living jazz musicians who came to prominence during the genre’s peak (1950s-1960s) grow fewer and fewer, it really serves as a reminder to just how important that era was for music.

Bobby Hutcherson was an exceptional musician. He is one of the three greatest pioneers of that unique instrument, the vibraphone (the others being Lionel Hampton and Milt Jackson). He is my favorite player of the instrument, however, because he displayed a remarkable sense of versatility. Whether he was playing alongside more straight-forward musicians like Donald Byrd or Grant Green or more free-thinking innovators like Eric Dolphy, Bobby was always able to hold his one and add a unique sense of texture to whatever he played. In memory of the great musician, here are three of my favorite performances by him.

The first is the title track of the wonderful Grant Green album “Idle Moments” This song is a really terrific atmospheric piece, everyone is in fine form here and Bobby’s solo is just so beautifully introspective. The rest of the lineup on this one is Grant Green on guitar, Joe Henderson on tenor sax, Duke Pearson on piano, Bob Cranshaw on bass, and Al Harewood on drums.

This next track is “Tranquility” from Mr. Hutcherson’s “Components” album. This is an amazingly peaceful tune, in the liner notes Bobby describes this number as “so tranquil as to almost suggest no time at all.” He really explores the ambient nature of the instrument to great effect in this number, while the connection between the musicians is so strong that the song practically floats in midair. Bobby is joined by Freddie Hubbard on trumpet, Herbie Hancock on piano, Ron Carter on bass, and Joe Chambers on drums.

Finally, here is my all time favorite performance of his, the track “Hat and Beard” from Eric Dolphy’s masterpiece “Out to Lunch” This is probably my all time favorite record right here, it took me awhile to understand but once I got into it, it really changed the way I thought about music. Bobby was the first player to really bring the vibes into a more avant-garde environment and he wasn’t afraid to go outside of the box. This whole entire album is brilliant in that you won’t hear a single musical phrase that sounds contrived, it really stands out as a beautiful piece of art. He is joined by Eric Dolphy on bass clarinet, Freddie Hubbard on trumpet, Richard Davis on bass, and Tony Williams on drums (The call and response bit between Bobby and Tony Williams at 6:10 is one of the finest moments of spontaneous improvisation I’ve ever heard)

Rest in peace, Bobby Hutcherson, and thank you for the wonderful music that will live on forever.

The Inaugural Post

Hello to whoever may be reading this. I’ve been feeling an urge to do more writing lately, so I thought I’d start a blog where I’ll be writing various things about stuff that I enjoy. If I were to choose a single thing that fascinates me the most, it would definitely be music. Isn’t it something how music can encompass practically every emotion just in the atmosphere a song can create? Lately I’ve been finding myself fascinated by the element of menace that is found every now and then in the various genres that I listen to.

Howlin’ Wolf is the first person that comes to mind whenever I hear the word menace. If Muddy Waters was the guy that you wouldn’t mind having a beer with, Howlin’ Wolf was the guy at the other end of the bar that you would want to avoid at all costs. There’s one song, “Forty Four”(a reworking of the Roosevelt Sykes classic), that really sums up the genius of the Wolf. The song is very unusual in that there’s a very interesting drum pattern in which the first beat of every bar is given an extra emphasis and it almost sounds off but it really gives the song an added heaviness that really drives the song forward. Then, there’s some terrific interplay with the two guitarists, the innovative Hubert Sumlin and the sadly overlooked Jody Williams. Jody plays the riff while Hubert throws in some very subtle guitar fills and the two just weave together so very nicely. Then there’s the man himself, Howlin’ Wolf.

Howlin’ Wolf had that uncanny ability to turn a standard blues number into a veritable psychodrama. Lyrically, the song is very simple, only two verses, but that’s the great thing about it. We don’t know why he’s so angry and we don’t know why he’s got his .44, all we know is that he’s “so mad this mornin’, I don’t know where in the world to go” It’s that distance between the performer and the audience that really gives the song that bitter edge while that incessant beat continues to play long after the song has ended.

Here’s the song below, feel free to leave any comments