Mike’s LP #6—CANDY APPLE GREY (Husker Du)

“Worrying is like paying on a debt that may never come due.”
--Will Rogers

I’ve got a few albums from the 80s on my list, and I’m guessing that quite a few will fall into the “had to be there” category. CANDY APPLE GREY is just not one of them. The album has caused me untold anxiety over the course of my life, and if nothing else, I’m glad that I can put this chapter to rest.

I really wanted to like it. The title and the cover art were both pretty cool. And the band name had not one, but two umlauts. There would have been an excellent story arc here if I ended up enjoying it.. After all, the tape sat in a drawer in my bedroom for years, lend by that weird Southern dude who moved to Long Island during my junior year. I felt bad every time I opened the drawer. I felt guilt over keeping the tape for so long. I also felt the loss of opportunity, the shame over neglecting this tape when, let’s face it, all I had to do was pop it into the stereo. I had no idea what it was going to sound like. For all I know, it could have evoked an awesomeness that could have rivaled the Replacements. And yet I passed it over each and ever time I opened that one drawer, as if I were the Angel of Death, and that drawer were smeared with lamb’s blood.

The album caused me stress once again this past week, as I could not bring myself to listen to it the six times that I’ve committed to previewing each album I review. I made it through twice, but then that was all I could do. Meanwhile, I put off writing the column, and the album once again became a source of anguish for me.

In the end, all of the stress that the album caused me was for naught. It was never going to be something that would touch me, make my life better in any way. I’ve learned a valuable lesson, though—one that Will Rogers knew long before I was born.

Mike’s Album #5—SOMETHING ELSE (The Kinks)

We can’t listen to every record out there. Can we? I consider myself a pretty serious aficionado, but still, I’ve got to draw the line somewhere. That’s the lesson I learned as I collected every single Yes album back in the 80s. The progression went like *this:

1) I hit the major albums and enjoyed them immensely
2) I found the hidden gems and deepened my appreciation for the band
3) I suffered through a handful of lesser albums as I forced my way through their catalogue.

I think I may have “overlearned” the lesson, though. Overlearned. That’s an expression I learned recently as a radio commentator discussed Congress’ failure to pass a health care bill. It was said that Obama overlearned Bill and Hilary Clinton’s lesson in 1993, when they pushed hard for health care reform and were seen as responsible for the debacle that ensued. And so Obama stepped back and allowed Congress to take the initiative (and watched the whole thing unravel).
Thankfully, my mistake hasn’t had such an adverse affect on the average American. I overlearned the lesson that eventually the quality of music from a band will wane. And there’s no better example than the near total lack of full-length Kinks albums in my collection.

I’ve been a Kinks fan since the mid 90s, and though I’ve collected a ton of their songs, the only proper album I own is THE VILLAGE GREEN PRESERVATION SOCIETY. What’s crazy is that I’m absolutely bonkers about that album, and yet I never dug any further. But how could I overlook the rest of their catalog when they’ve got at least a double album worth of ‘hits?’ I think it simply was a fear of tarnishing my feelings for the band. Let’s face it—anyone who went out and watched the Jerky Boys movie pretty much stopped listening to their tapes from that point on. I did NOT want that to happen with my favorite bands. It turns out that I was being pretty silly.

I decided to go back and check out SOMETHING ELSE this week—clearly an excellent choice. Just like LONDON CALLING, this one started and ended with songs that I knew but was otherwise filled entirely with newcomers to my consciousness. Just like VILLAGE GREEN, this one is filled with fun and sometimes quirky tunes about life and people in suburban England. The pinnacle is “Afternoon Tea,” a sweet love song that’s nearly as happy as “Sunny Afternoon.” But the one song that’s been grabbing me by the collar all week has been “Tin Soldier Man,” a strange tune (see/hear below) like no other by the Kinks, complete with baritone sax and goofy-as-anything lyrics:

...winky wack wacky goo/
and he’s got a little tin lady too/
just to put a little shine on his shoes/
and keep his uniform tidy...

Overall there was only one song that I’d consider tossing off the iTunes list, while I put most of the rest of them into heavy rotation. And as I discovered with Bowie’s STATION TO STATION last month, hearing a song like “Waterloo Sunset” in its proper context gave me a great appreciation for a tune I’d otherwise discounted.
No doubt, I’m going to be checking out a few more of their albums, most likely Arthur, Muswell Hillbillies and Face to Face. It turns out that the Kinks aren’t done stunning me.

* By the way—the Yes albums, by category, were 1) Fragile, 90125, The Yes Album, Close to the Edge 2) Relayer, Time and a Word, Yes, Tales from the Topographic Oceans and 3) Tormato, Drama, Big Generator, Union.

Mike’s LP #4—AT BUDOKAN

All the greats do it eventually. I’m not talking about trashing a dressing room or going through a Christian phase. No, I’m talking about recording a live album. I’m not quite sure what mine would sound like, but there are a handful of no-nos. I wouldn’t open the LP with a lengthy introduction by an unknown emcee. I wouldn’t include emotional, cliché transitions between songs, uttered by my excited-yet-out-of-breath lead singer. And I sure wouldn’t include excess cheering and clapping. Maybe there’s be some residual evidence of an actual audience, but in my eyes, good taste would dictate that leave that low in the mix. And no way in hell would I start off with a song called “Hello There” and end with “Goodnight.” One of the two would be okay, but not both.

There’s a funny thing about rules: If you break them all at the same time, it’s sort of okay. And yes, you guessed it, that’s exactly what happened with Cheap Trick’s classic live LP, AT BUKOKAN. I can’t say I’m going to listen to this whole thing through very often, if ever again, but I can appreciate where they’re coming from (and what the appeal was).

Here's a new feature here at my Take 52 Classic LP blog: Stat Time!

* Times I could stand to listen to this all the way through: 3
* New songs that stuck with me: Hello There; Need Your Love
* Tunes I already knew: I Want You to Want Me; Surrender
* Random fact I learned through the process: How to spell “Budokan”
* Random fact I won’t need for another 20 years or so: see above

P.S. I was wrong when I said “all the greats do it.” The Beatles never officially released a live one. That’s just how they rolled.

Mike’s LP #3—YOU DON'T MESS AROUND WITH JIM

It all started with a mustache: a thick, beefy mustache—on my face and mistaken for the one belonging to Jim Croce. I looked him up on the ‘net, just to see if the comparison was true. Then I fell for the man. Youtube has a bunch of clips taken from TV appearances, and all of them feature Croce with his right hand man, Maury Muehleisen. It turns out that Croce had previously backed Muehleisen, but the roles reversed in the early 70s as Croce’s success grew. On tour they played stripped down versions of his classics, and the results are pretty beautiful. Needless to say, I’ve been digging into the Croce hardcore through all of 2010. So I decided, for the purposes of this blog, that I’d go back and check out his studio albums—all three that were released prior to his death. What I found is that he’s got some decent songs in between the huge handful of sing-a-longs. All the albums have plenty of songs you know and love, but as the years go by, the songs in between seemed to grab me less and less.

If I were to recommend one proper Croce album, it would have to be 1972’s YOU DON’T MESS AROUND WITH JIM. 1973’s LIFE AND TIMES had some good tunes, several of which made it into my iPod playlist, but they didn’t grab me quite as much. There was a bit more cliché working there. I GOT A NAME (also 1973) didn’t do a whole lot for me outside of the standard “I Got a Name,” “Workin’ At the Car Wash Blues,” and “I’ll Have to Say I Love You With a Song.” But the first one really was outstanding. Three new tunes (well, new to me) made it into heavy rotation on the iPod. These include “Box #10” and the closer, “Hey Tomorrow,” a wistful and hopeful tune that had just enough cheese to make it tasty. “Hey tomorrow, where are you going?” he sings. “Do you have some room for me?”

Sadly, the answer was no. Croce and Maury Muehleisen were both killed in a plane accident on September 20, 1973. But those guys left a heck of a lot of beauty behind before they departed.

Mike’s LP #2—LONDON CALLING

I want my childhood back. Or at least the part of it that missed out on The Clash. There was a brief period in middle school when I was into COMBAT ROCK, but that was only because the radio served me copious amounts of “Should I Stay or Should I Go” and “Rock the Casbah.” The rest of the album wasn’t enough to sustain a life-long relationship, and that was that. I moved on to Def Leppard, The Cars and eventually The Beatles. When I made my way back to punk in the late ‘80s, the Clash never came up.

Would I have dug LONDON CALLING, had I listened to it back in the day? No freaking doubt. Joe Strummer’s vocals are a dead ringer for Mike Peters of The Alarm (vice versa, to be fair), and that would have been enough to suck me in, had I given the album a chance. Then the songs would have grabbed me, probably with more force than they did this past week. And that’s saying a lot, because I really fell for this album.

I couldn’t help but be impressed by the variety of styles represented here: ska and reggae, rockabilly, blues and (of course) punk. On top of that, the tunes were extremely catchy and fun. Now I’m wondering: how would my musical tastes have been different with this diversity in my teenage musical arsenal? It wasn’t until college that I started checking out ska (English Beat; Bim Skala Bim). Perhaps if I’d listened to London Calling I would have been open to something beyond pop and rock at an earlier age.

The album doesn’t seem dated. Okay, maybe it's a little dated. But hardly so compared to most of its contemporaries, anyway. Ann Landers says it’s never too late to send a ‘thank you’ note. And I say it’s never too late to get into The Clash.

Mike’s song picks: Lover’s Rock (dancy fun), “Train in Vain” (the only song other than “London Calling” that I’d heard before) and “Death or Glory” (with the head-scratching lyric, “he who f@#*s nuns will later join the church”)

Mike’s LP #1 – Bowie’s Station to Station

I’ve been a pretty big Bowie fan since early in high school. I can’t say I’ve listened to everything he’s done since “Let’s Dance,” but I’ve been through most of his stuff from the 70s. STATION TO STATION is just one of those albums that escaped me—I never knew anyone who owned it, and I never took the risk of buying the CD when Bowie was still growing on me.

For this experiment, I decided to listen to the CD at least six times. I wanted to really give it a chance to enter my consciousness. It worked—I got to the point where I knew which songs were coming up and could anticipate certain hooks and lyrics.

I was prepared for this experience by my brush with LOW, which is the LP that comes after Station chronologically. Station doesn’t have as much electronic weirdness (Brian Eno hadn’t jumped on board yet), but it’s got it’s own brand of strange. The title song is so different from other Bowie album starters—lengthy like some, but more so—it is basically two looooong extended grooves. It’s not bad in the background if I’m taking a long walk, but I don’t think I’d subject any of my loved ones to it.

Next comes “Golden Years,” which I’m glad to finally know in its proper context. The fuzz guitar and incessant hi-hat are the perfect, fun parfait after the extended opener. “Word On a Wing” brings it down again before the incredibly strange yet intriguing “Tvc15,” a science fiction romp set to honky-tonk piano and 50s-style doo-wop vocals. It really starts to sound like a Bowie song, in the traditional sense, when he brings in the hand claps, screeching guitar and horns during the chorus.

“Stay” keeps the party going. It’s downright groovy, complete with funky guitar and a bass line that borders on disco. Last comes the other song I’d previously heard, “Wild is the Wind.” It’s still not exactly a favorite of mine, but in the context here, it’s an appropriate romantic let down after twelve minutes of motion.

Overall, I’m glad that I took the chance to get to know this album. While I don’t expect to play the whole thing very often,“Tvc15” and “Stay” will be residing in my iPod, where they’ll join my all-too-managed shuffle playlist.

Next Week: London Calling (The Clash)