Aardvarks Aattic Blog

2011-07-15T19:40:00.000-05:00

Why Do I Love Queen?

The first time I heard Queen was on the awesome bootleg "Command Performance" documenting Queen's performance at the Hammersmith Odeon, London England on December 24, 1975. From there I branched out to their studio albums.

If you really want to know why I love Queen the way that I do, you need look no further than side two of their second album, Queen II... it goes something like this...

Ogre Battle (Queen II)

The Fairy-Feller's Master-Stroke / Nevermore (Queen II)

The March Of The Black Queen (Queen II)

Funny How Love Is (Queen II)

The Seven Seas Of Rhye (Queen II)

And that, my friends is why I love Queen...

2011-07-01T15:04:00.002-05:00

Klaatu Barada Nikto

No wait, while I am a big fan of The Day The Earth Stood Still, with Michael Rennie as our man Klaatu himself (Keanu who?) (Quick, what was the robot's name? If it took you more than a nanosecond to think of it, well, no bonus points for you...).

Hail to the king baby...

And while I love Bruce Campbell as Ash, the hero of all three of Sam Rami's brilliant Evil Dead movies, it isn't that Klaatu Barada Nikto of which I wish to speak.

Rather, I am here today (well, tonight technically) to speak of the Canadian Prog Rock band who took their name from Michael Rennie's iconic character.

The first I heard of Klaatu was following the August 1976 release of their debut LP release, 3:47 EST. I would have been hanging out at Star Records... the record store I grew up in, downtown Oshawa, when the proprietor Mike played it for me. Well, probably my best friend and I. While, at the time, Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, Alice Cooper and Deep Purple were more our usual musical fare, there was, nonetheless, something very unique and fetching about this new band.

From the opening strains of Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft (The Recognized Anthem of World Contact Day) to the decaying last notes of Little Neutrino (well, until the mouse squeak at the very least) the whole album struck a very powerfull chord. And we weren't the only ones that noticed. While Klaatu never really blossomed much outside of their, as it turned out, native Canada, enough people were intrigued by their musical supplications to analyze the album further.

At some point, not long after the release, rumours surfaced that Klaatu were, in fact, the reformed Beatles, recording in annonimity; not a bad feat for a rumour in a day and an age when the concept of the world wide web was still just a wet dream of one computer nerd or another.

In point of fact, Klaatu were Canucks John Woloschuk (vocals, bass, acoustic guitar, keyboards), Dee Long (guitars, keyboards, vocals) and Terry Draper (drums, percussion, vocals). The Beatles rumours were something that the band members chaffed at and always denied.

Part of the mystique that allowed these rumours to flourish in the first place had alot to do with the fact Klaatu never played live. They were a studio band; a concept which The Beatles, in their later days, had, if not invented, perfected. Lack of any real liner notes regarding personelle on their albums only helped to fan the flames.

Their second album, Hope, was considered by many fans to be equal or, in some ways, superiour to their debut release. Hope was a concept album recorded with The London Symphony Orchestra, about, as Wikipedia states "the sole survivor of an arrogant race of beings, who warns space travellers of hazards in the last days or his life"

For me this second album didn't quite resonate as strongly with me as their first. That being said, there were still some pretty fucking strong tracks and, as a whole, acquitted itself most admirably.

Songs like Madman, The Lonliest of Creatures, So Said the Lighthouse Keeper and Hope were more than worthy successors to the first album.

Klaatu releaed three more albums; Sir Army Suit (1978), Endangered Species (1980) and Magentalane (1981), but none of them ever managed to match their first two releases.

Here then are my picks for some of Klaatu's best works. If you have already known of the band, I hope this serves as some kind of reminder of a bright, young band... If you haven't, then I hope this serves as a sufficient introduction.

Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft (The Recognized Anthem of World Contact Day) (3:47 EST)

Sir Bodsworth Rugglesby III (3:47 EST)

Anus of Uranus (3:47 EST)

Sub-Rosa Subway (3:47 EST)

A friend of mine, by the name of Steve Douglas, asked after the song Sub-Rosa Subway from Klaatu's first album in no small part due to the fact it, of all the songs on the album, sparked the whole Klaatu are The Beatles kerfufel. Or Are Klaatu The Beatles? kerfufel, depending upon how you look at it. The song was left out by way of a brain fart I had. This is a great tune and, even after all these years, I'll be damned if they don't sound, at least a little, like that long ago band from Liverpool.

True Life Hero (3:47 EST)

Madman (Hope)

We're Off You Know (Hope)

So Said The Lighthouse Keeper (Hope)

By the by... in answer to the above mentioned question... the name of Klaatu's bright and shinny friend is... Gort.

Gort, Klaatu Barada Nikto...

And now you know.

2011-06-22T18:38:00.000-05:00

So, who out there likes live music?

Sorry, wrong question.

Who out there LOVES live music?

Yeah, that would be the right question.

If you LOVE live music the way that I LOVE live music, then, have I got a site for you. Do yourself a huge favour and check out www.wolfgangsvault.com.

Wolfgang's Vault is the place where a whole shit load of Bill Graham's meticulously compiled archives from the heyday of rock 'n' roll has been assembled. Don't know who Bill Graham is? Well, back in the day, he was only THE most influential concert promoter. How influential? Let me put it this way; if any band played in North America, odds were they were presented by Bill Graham. Were talking The Rolling Stones, The Who, The Band and a shitload more artists that didn't necessarily have the word "The" in their title.

How about The Sex Pistols very last public performance with Sid Vicious? Never mind audio, WV has it in pristine video as well.

The Who at Tanglewood outdoor theatre in Lenox, Massachusetts near the end of what for them I'm sure was an interminable run of playing Tommy start to finish in stunning quality video. Aerosmith playing a watershed show at the Schaefer Music Festival in Central Park back in 1975 shortly after the release of their seminal album Toys In The Attic.

The complete Last Waltz show on video. One of the last shows Lynyrd Skynyrd ever performed before that fateful day in October of 1977 when the Convair 240 ran out of gas and crashed just outside of Baton Rouge, again captured on video.

AC/DC, U2 back in their club days, The Tubes, A Flock of Seagulls, The Allman Brothers Band, Alice Cooper and OH so many more artists captured in audio, video or, sometimes both.

If you love live music, then you really owe it to yourself to check out Wolfgang's Vault. It's free to join but, if you do want to become a premium member you can download many of these amazing time capsule shows.

2011-04-04T16:01:00.000-05:00

So, here it is... a tentative, hopefull glimpse at the first couple of chapters of what will most likely be my next novel; a sequel to Not Only Am I With The Band... tentatively now titled I Am Not Animal.

Believe me when I tell you that the feed back you provide will most definately be taken to heart. So, if it pleases you, I now humbly ask for your feed back on the following. Be as brutal as you need be; the more honest the feedback, the better I can hope it to be come publication day...

Chapter 1: When an Animal Roars In the Forest

A point of view can be a dangerous luxury when substituted for insight and understanding.
Marshall McLuhan

I am not Animal
Slogan on a t-shirt circa 1981

Ruth had been working at the Whitby Free Press about two weeks before I finally worked up the courage to ask her out for drinks after the weekly newspaper had gone to press; which is to say that it had gone to Bowmanville to be printed, since our little slice of heaven in Whitby was nothing more than an expanded backroom and, therefore, had no room to house printing presses of our own.

There was a nice quiet bar right across the street; Larry’s Roost.

“I believe you promised me a drink this evening,” cooed Ruth in her Glaswegian accent.

The two of us had hit it off pretty well after the managing editor and owner Mike B had hired her, ostensibly to help his long suffering wife Marj out in the advertising department.

Ruth was petite, with shoulder length auburn hair that was almost too intense to look at. She cut a buxom figure, filled out in all the right places.

“I believe you are right,” I replied, hoping against hope that I had managed to maintain eye contact with her for a long enough period of time to remotely qualify as judicious.

She held out her bent left arm to me and bated her eyes coquettishly.

“Why sir, would you kehndly escort me to the digs so ah might avail mahself of a most refreshing Mint Julep?”

Guys, you really haven’t lived until you have heard someone with a thick Scottish burr attempting a deep southern U.S. accent.

“Either that,” I offered, “or we could hit Larry’s for a beer and a couple of Tequila shots.”

“Why sir, you was jest readin’ mah mahnd. Let me away and retrieve mah purse.”

Now on most press nights it was all hands on deck; the editorial staff, which consisted of Mike K and myself, would type all of our stories and headlines into a digital copy machine which would in turn spit out a block or strip of text which could then be cut as required on the layout board and “pasted” onto the copy sheet; the advertising staff which consisted of Marj B, Frank and, most recently, Ruth, hanging about and fighting it out with Mike K over page space and; the managing editor / owner Mike B who would screen any photographs earmarked for publication in that week’s paper using a similar process to the text. Once the last flat was finalized and approved for general edification all concerned parties would abandon ship in as expedient a fashion as to make even the speediest of rats proud.

On this particular evening I had no reason to assume that anything should be any different. I was under the impression that it was just Ruth and I left holding down the fort. Time was diligently chasing 11:30 pm so that situation should not have been that untoward.

As I waited in the customer facing convenience store front I heard another male voice engage Ruth. It was our glorious leader, Mike B.

In retrospect, words still fail me as to a physical description of Mike B; save to say that if Lou Ferrigno ever needed a stunt double then he had been born for that role. He was the type of leader who would, quite without any kind of conscious effort on his part, inspire undying scorn and ridicule amongst his charges.

Now what the fuck does he want?

Five minutes past; then ten while I remained upfront, as quiet as humanly possible. Pushing 15 minutes I was just working up the nerve to make my way back towards the bullpen when Ruth appeared from out the darkness. We stood and regarded each other silently for a moment. It was her who broke the silence, not with words per se, although her actions of pressing her boobs up against my youthful body spoke volumes.

“I’ll meet you over at Larry’s in fifteen minutes; twenty tops,” she purred. “Order me a Labatt’s Blue, and a Blow Job for yourself.”

Any rational thought that I might have been capable of at that point completely deserted me. If she had kept rubbing up against me like that I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t have given my all right then and there. Thankfully, she withdrew.

“F..f…f…fifteen minutes,” I stammered, “I’ll be there.”

Ruth smiled beatifically at me before turning and sauntering back into the darkness.

I stood, dumbfounded, watching her perfectly formed ass retreat from me; each subtle shift of her cheeks promising more than any young man could ever hope to imagine.

Chapter 2: Captain Kenny Strikes Again

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here another year and take your Grade 13?”

I was sitting in the principal’s office in good old M.C.V.I. Ken Ridge; Captain Kenny to those who haunted the hallowed halls of the school radio station C.R.S.M. The thought of spending one more year in this emotional hell hole freaked me out more than I could have ever known.

“Well?” he damn near bellowed; just daring me to resist; contradict him.

I looked balefully at my shoes as if they might provide some kind of hither to unknown pearl of wisdom. Nothing; well shit.

“Fine,” Captain Kenny continued, taking my silence as acquiescence, “we’ll get you all set up for…”

“No…” I interrupted meekly.

He paused.

“What?”

“No,” I managed.

“No?”

After a tentative moment.

“No.”

Well, this just changed things; changed things all to hell and back, didn’t it. Captain Kenny puffed himself up to prodigious dimensions in advance of the well rehearsed speech.

“Now you know…” he glanced surreptitiously at the dossier sitting on his desk, “Stephen that grade 13 grads are much more likely to…”

“I want to be a journalist,” I blurted.

He paused, briefly, but this revelation didn’t set him back much.

“Well now, if you want to be a…”

“Doesn’t grade 13 focus primarily on mathematics?”

My chutzpa still manages to inspire and amaze me to this very day.

“Well,” stammered my soon to be my former principle.

“I’ve already done the research; I don’t need grade 13 to attend Durham College for Journalism.”

“But,” continued Captain Kenny.

“So,” I overrode, “I will not be returning to M.C.V.I. next year to take grade 13.”

This, at last, seemed to stymie his attempts to bring me back. We sat there in his office; the minutes slowly ticking away. After five minutes of staring at each other he sprang purposefully to life.

“Please send in the next student,” he barked into his intercom.

Well damn; I knew when I have been dismissed.

2011-03-28T17:44:00.000-05:00

Aardvark's Musical Musings - Frank Zappa Edition

The new and (hopefully) improved Aardvark's Aattic will be launching soon. In the meantime, I thought it would be fun to resurrect a little project that I at one time did for my friend Stefan over at his excellent Freedomain Radio site.

I'd like to take you on a journey of my favorite bands, musicians and songs that helped to shape my musical milieu such as it is. If you are familiar with these artists, then it will be a good chance to revisit an old love. If you aren't, then give them a try. You just might find a new addition to your musical mosaic.

Let's start off near the end of the alphabet with my first subject, one Frank Vincent Zappa (December 21, 1940 - December 4, 1993). Zappa was, to my mind, a musical genius, dabbling as he did in rock, jazz, electronic and orchestral themes infusing each with a scathing sense of humour and flair. In his day Zappa was insanely prolific, with well over 100 releases to his credit. While alive Frank recorded every live show; when not on the road he recorded ceaselessly in the studio environment. So much so that his widow and current keeper of the Zappa Family Trust, Gail, is still able to release original, fully realized compositions and live recordings 18 years after the great man's death from prostate cancer.

Frank started his career with The Mother's Of Invention, and weren't they just all of that and more. Upon the Mother's disolusion, Zappa continued on. His musically demanding style naturally attracted like minded virtuoso players. During his time, Frank Zappa discovered currently day defacto musical giants such as;

Guitarist Steve Vai (David Lee Roth, Public Image Limited, Whitesnake, Alice Cooper, G3) who Zappa referred to as his "little Italian virtuoso". Vai was listed on Zappa recordings from that era as having played "stunt guitar" or "impossible guitar parts".

Drummer Vinnie Colaiuta (Gino Vannelli, Joni Mitchell, Megadeath, The Beach Boys, Leonard Cohen, Jeff beck, Sting)

Guitarist Adrian Belew (David Bowie, Talking Heads, The Tom Tom Club, King Crimson) who described his time with Frank Zappa as a "crash course" in music theroy, due in no small part to Zappa's rigorous rehearsals and often technically demanding music, and has commented "I went to the Frank Zappa School of Rock."

Trombonist Bruce Fowler (Captain Beefheart, Eric Clapton, Stan Ridgway (Wall of Voodoo vocalist))

Vocalists / Comedians Flo & Eddie (Mark Volman aka the Phlorescent Leech and Howard Kaylan aka Eddie) (The Turtles, T-Rex, Steely Dan, David Cassidy, Keith Moon, Bruce Springsteen, The Psychedilic Furs, Ramones, Duran Duran, Alice Cooper)

Drummer Chester Thompson (Weather Report, Genesis, Phil Collins, Steve Hackett)

I could go on and on. Suffice it to say that Zappa always endeavored to surround himself with players who would challenge him musically.

One of the first songs I remember hearing was Dancin' Fool from his Sheik Yerbouti release. My best friend at the time Bill played it for me. Here then is a version which Zappa performed on the show Saturday Night Live in October of 1978. I don't think I can introduce this any better than Frank himself did.

Tonight we'd like to do a song about an important social problem, Disco; it deals with lonely people with no natural rhythm impinging on each other in the darkness, it's called Dancin' Fool

Dancin' Fool

Of course, growing up a young Zappa neophite it wasn't to long until I heard of THE song; you know, the song that no one mentioned or talked about in polite society. That song was, of course, Dinah-Moe Humm. Check out the painfully young Adrain Belew on guitar and vocals.

I couldn't say where she was coming from, but I just met a lady named Dinah-Moe Humm...

Dinah-Moe Humm

One thing that has always amazed me about Frank Zappa is his ability to create a great song on just about any topic imaginable. Take this next song for example. For ten long years convicted felon Michael Kenyon cut a swath from Illinois to California, robbing and, more than just occasionally administering an enema to his female victims. This man became known as the Champaign Enema Bandit (named thus after his first known attack in Champaign Illinois), the Ski Mask Bandit and, as F.Z. famously immortalized him in song, The Illinois Enema Bandit.

Is that a song title or what?

Lookin' for some rustic teenage rump, that he just might wanna pump

The Illinois Enema Bandit

Like a lot of my original musical awakening, my best friend in high school was a big Frank Zappa fan. I remember listening to my first Frank Zappa album from start to finish at his folks place. That album was Zappa in New York. The version of this next song, The Torture Never Stops on that LP blew me away. That and Titties and Beer

A sinister little midget with a bucket and a mop where the blood goes down the drain

The Torture Never Stops

A highlight of many Frank Zappa live shows were the ad lib routines that followed a very basic format but took on the flavour of the current concert's city. Here is one such instance based loosely around a Frank Zappa call to Room Service.

Room Service

At the end of the day though, Frank was at his best when he was waging a full frontal assault on everyday sacred cows. If I might make a suggestion then please watch these next three videos one after the other, the way they were played live in concert on this particular tour. The first video, Dumb All Over calls into question the practice of oh so many people to blindly follow one particular religious dogma or another.

The second, a personal favorite of mine, Heavenly Bank Account skewers television evangelism right where it hurts. Last, but certainly not least, Suicide Chump ridicules, well, suicides.

Remember, there's a big difference between kneeling down and bending over...

Dumb All Over

Heavenly Bank Account

Suicide Chump

While I believe The Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame is, in many ways apocryphal, I'm sure that having contemporaries of yours speak sincerely and lovingly of your contribution to the vast cannon that is rock 'n' roll music must surely be gratifying. In that spirit, I feel pretty comfortable in the belief that Frank just loved this homage to his memory by non other than Lou Reed.

Just a pity that Frank's daughter Moon Zappa's acceptance speech was so forgettable...

Frank Zappa Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame Induction by Lou Reed

Check out Frank's testimony before congress on the topic of censorship and it's place (or non-place as the case may be) in popular culture. At a time when the PMRC (that would be Parents Music Resource Center) was a growing threat in music, Frank was one of the few that stood up and spoke out against censorship of any kind. It is down to his tireless efforts, at least in part, that we still are able to enjoy a fundamentally free view of the popular music landscape.

For that, if for no other reason, I will always love Frank Zappa.

I leave you now with one final video, and the text of a warning sticker which appeared on each and every Frank Zappa release since the threat of the PMRC became real:

WARNING/GUARANTEE: This album contains material which a truly free society would neither fear nor suppress.

In some socially retarded areas, religious fanatics and ultra-conservative political organizations violate your First Ammendment Rights by attempting to censor rock & roll albums. We feel that this is un-Constitutional and un-American.

As an alternative to these government-supported programs (designed to keep you docile and ignorant). Barking Pumpkin is pleased to provide stimulating digital audio entertainment for those of you who have outgrown the ordinary.

The language and concepts contained herein are GUARANTEED NOT TO CAUSE ETERNAL TORMENT IN THE PLACE WHERE THE GUY WITH THE HORNS AND POINTED STICK CONDUCTS HIS BUSINESS.

This guarantee is as real as the threats of the video fundamentalists who use attacks on rock music in their attempt to transform America into a nation of check-mailing nincompoops (in the name of Jesus Christ). If there is a hell, its fires wait for them, not us.

We're Turning Again

2010-12-17T13:59:00.002-05:00

Merry Christmas

Growing up there were two television shows that would be watched in our house that would tell me Christmas was right around the corner. One was televised on Christmas Eve itself. This was the annual broadcast of the 1951 version of "A Christmas Carol" more correctly titled Scrooge); the black and white classic which starred Alastair Sim as the quintessential Ebenezer Scrooge. Each and every Scrooge that has come along since owes, at the very least, a tip of the hat to this 1951 cinematic masterpiece.

Christmas still isn't Christmas without a viewing of that movie. I must have watched it a hundred times or more in my lifetime and I still tear up at Scrooge's redemption. I know for a lot of people Christmas is "It's A Wonderfull Life" and, having finally seen it for the first time a few years back, I can fully understand why. It is a wonderfull movie.

But for my money nothing can hold a candle to "Scrooge". Check it out on YouTube in nine parts. If you have never seen it, then do yourself a favour; you really, REALLY need to watch this movie. As Bill Murray

noted in the excellent parody Scrooged "You're life might well depend upon it.

Here then, on the ubiquitous youtube, is that great Christmas classic.

Scrooge - Part 1
Scrooge - Part 2
Scrooge - Part 3

Scrooge - Part 4
Scrooge - Part 5
Scrooge - Part 6

Scrooge - Part 7
Scrooge - Part 8
Scrooge - Part 9

The second television event which always spelt Christmas for me was, and still is A Charlie Brown Christmas. Is there any other special out there that so keenly captures the joy; the absolute beauty of a child discovering that there is more to Christmas than initially meets the eye. If there is I would sorely like to see it.

A Charlie Brown Christmas - Part 1
A Charlie Brown Christmas - Part 2

In the end though, for me, Christmas has always meant getting together with my Aunt Martha, Uncle Bruce and my three cousins, Bryan, Andrew and Katherine. My folks and I would come into Scarborough for Christmas Day dinner and they would go to my folks place for New Years Day dinner. The following year, the roles would be reversed. This tradition continued for many, many years; eventually incorporating Andrew's wife Sheley, Kath's husband Andy and their kids and my spouse Rhonda. The table got pretty darned crowded. Bryan, his spouse Judy and their kids live in Calgary so their appearances have been somewhat limited, although they are never far from mind and always in our hearts.

Contrary to popular belief I do like Christmas carols; I do. It's just that my tolerance for the genre was supremely challenged when I worked retail and would start listening to festive tunes somewhere around the first week of November. By the time Christmas rolled around I had little time for Christmas tunes. No "Bah Humbug!" when I left work. More like, thank goodness I can listen to whatever it is that I want to now. Sometimes that actually does include Christmas music. I've just never been able to see the logic in forgoing any other kind of music during the Christmas season.

What would my favourite Christmas carol be? "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing"; more of a Christmas Hymn, I know. It’s my favourite; I’m sure, in no small part to the fact, at the end of A Charlie Brown Christmas, the Peanuts gang all gather round Charlie Brown's beautiful tree and sang that hymn as the credits rolled. Then again, maybe it’s because it was the recessional hymn at our Carol Service on Christmas Eve while I was growing up. Either way, it is a very powerful song which can still bring a tear to my eye on that oh so Holy Eve. I remember some Christmas Eve's leaving church in the cold hours after midnight with a fresh layer of snow upon the ground when none had been present as we first entered a couple of hours earlier.

Just as Charlie Brown did in his special, I have felt for years that Christmas has lost its way somewhere. People seem far more concerned about buying a gift which will top the gift their friend might buy for them; Christmas lists get longer and longer; people's tempers get shorter and shorter. Isn't this supposed to be the time of year when we all embrace the phrase "Peace on earth, good will toward men" even if for only a little while?

If there has ever been a time of year to be with those you love, without condition, without reservation, then this must surely be it. Truth be told, the week between Christmas Day and New Year’s Day must surely be a time of sublime reflection and thankfulness; for all that we have; for all of our blessings, regardless of how copious or limited those blessings may or may not be; but mostly we must be thankful for those whom we love and those who love us; friends, family, acquaintances. Need not matter. To say that kind of appreciation and reflection should actually exist on a year round basis is a gross understatement. Yet, now is the time, if at no other time during the year. Count your blessings; smile at someone who has never smiled at you. Be the type of person that you have always wished you could be.

And so I leave you now saying to you and yours, have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy, Healthy and Prosperous New Year,

The Aardvark

2010-02-12T17:50:00.006-05:00

The Change Rock The Edge 102.1

On Saturday, January 23rd The Change played The Edge 102.1 streetfront studio's Steamwhistle Indie Club ; a small venue to be sure; much better suited to a summertime gig, what with it's ceiling to floor pane glass windows across the vast majority of the studios considerable street front. Yet once [check] struck the first chord of [check] the minus [check] tempertature just vanished. This was only my second time seeing the band in an electric setting, only serving to reinforce my first impression of them electric a mere mater of months before at [check].

Now, when you reach my advanced years [49 if you must know] odds are you have already gone through any number of music appreciation stages. This tends to follow a fairly set progression:

1) Oh My Freaking God, I've Never, Ever Heard Anything Like That Before
2) Oh My Freaking God, Nothing Else Compares To (artist refernced in #1, henceforth referred to as your first musical love)
3) Oh My Freaking God, Who The Hell inspired (your first musical love)
4) Oh My Freaking God, Why Have I Never Heard This Other Band Beofre
5) Oh My Freaking God, Why Did I Waste So Much Time Focusing On (your first musical love)
6) Oh My Freaking God... I Love Music

It's a bloody shame then considering the fact that a staggering number of people never, EVER, get past number 2 just previously referenced somewhere up there previously. Which is more than just a little more tragic than your run of the mill tragedies. Kind of reeks of 70 year olds lurking around wearing tie dye shirts and faded levi's expounding upon why nothing worth while ever happened in music once Dylan went electric back in 1965 at the Newport Jazz Festival. I would rather die than become one of THOSE. When you have spent a lifetime in love with music and have progressed beyond number 2, beyond number 4, perchance to progress, dare i say it, beyond number 5 and light upon number 6; that, for me, has always been the ultimate.

Falling in love with a song, an album, an artist is all about growing up musically. Fixating upon that song, that album, that artist for a lifetime is a crime and a tragedy rolled up into one.

So you might ask, what the does that have to do with The Change?

Well, if you are a number 2, then probably not much. If you are a number 4, 5 or, dare I say it, 6, then quite a lot I think.

There comes a point in every music affecianado's life when you must sit back and take stock of the music you love; why am I just not drawn to anything recorded past 1976, 1977, 1978 (insert your appropriate year here); is there something wrong with me? The long answer is, no, there isn't anything wrong with you. It just so happens the short answer is the exact same. When someone spends their entire life in love with a certain musical style and they awake one day to realize all the music they really, truely love is at least 10 years old; well, it can be pretty traumatic.

I have always tried to keep an open mind as well as an open ear to new artists, new bands, new songs, new CD's; but it hasn't always been easy. I'll tell you right here and now that Rap has, by and large, never done it for me. I understand the genre; I understand the origins, the wheres and the why fores. It has just never spoken to me on a viseral level. Now I did say "by and large"; there have been a few Rap artists that I have come to appreciate, largely because they wore their musical roots on their sleeve. Beat poetry of the late 50's early 60's, R&B from the same era; that, to me, is the paternaty of Rap music.

The whole American Idol mentality just leaves me cold. While there have surely been talented singers on the show they are being invested with some kind of musical legitamacy just by the fact they have, quite literally, won a game show. A game show more talent based than many of them to be sure but, what the fuck?

There are Indie radio stations bringing the cutting edge of new music, with all of it's teen angst revamped for the current generation; but I've lived through the uber raw reality of that years ago and come out alive on the otherside. Which kind of belies the thoughts and emotions expressed in that music. I lived it; I felt it with all of my being; yet I came out relatively unscathed on the otherside. So, while I can appreciate the words, while the music can take my soul on a magic carpet ride, I just can't loose myself in the message that music brings anymore.

Which is why happening across a band like the Change can have such a profound effect upon you. You, of course, being me.

If you are like me, how many times have your sat back and thought, what would it have been like to have been there when Elton John played that fatefull series of shows starting off the night of August 25, 1970 at the legendary Troubador Club in LA; when The Beatles rocked The Star Club in Hamburg, Germany or The Cavern Club in Liverpool in the early 60's; to have been there during The Rolling Stones eight month residency as house band at The Crawdaddy Club in 1963; at one of the mighty Led Zeppelin's early stints at LA's Filmore West or Boston's famed Tea Pary.

Growing up when I did the answer would be countless times. Then, out of the blue and quite accidently comes a fledgling group. A group which, as I have mentioned before, wears it's influences on their sleeve without being derivative; a group which takes old themes of love, angst and loss and brings them alive in the modern era; a group which, like most truely great groups, resists the temptation of lacing their set with "covers"; eschewing them for all original compositions.

Who out there has seen the movie "Almost Famous"? Anyone? Anyone? Beuller?...

Before each and every gig they play The Change go into a huddle onstage; what is said or discussed amongst them I can only speculate. In my minds eye I hear the fictional band Stillwater from Almost Famous going into their huddle and chanting

This band knows where they came from; this band seems to know where it is that they could potentially go.

You're right, how can anyone ever know that. Truth is, they just fucking rocked. They still do.

2009-12-07T13:51:00.005-05:00

The Change

The Change are Marcus Adrian - Vocals, Acoustic Guitar and Harmonica, Gregg McGean - Lead Guitar and Backing Vocals, Matt "Mars" Finbow - Rhythm Guitar and Backing Vocals, Kevin Pogue - Bass, Roy Bartell - Drums and Percussion. With influences as wide and varied as Aerosmith, Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, REM and Buddy Holly (to name a few), their sound is at once very unique and most familiar at the same time.

With one EP and one full CD of original compositions, under their collective belts the first year as a band has seen a lot of firsts for the Change. To mark the relase of their first full length CD, "Roll Y' Tongue", the band played a showcas gig at one of Toronto's prestigious rock clubs, The Horseshoe Tavern, a stage whose boards have been trodden by The Rolling Stones, The Police, The Ramones, Blue Rodeo, The Tragically Hip and Our Lady Peace (again, to name a few). The night was hosted by Toronto radio station 102.1 FM CFNY. This is a band on it's way up folks, make no mistake. One of those rare instances when five distinct personalities get together, strap on their instruments and gell in a way that, if it was easy, everyone would be doing. But it isn't, and so The Change are another comparatively rare instance.

I had the pleasure of catching them live in the kind of venue that you can only ever hope to catch a rising star in it's infancy. An acoustic gig at a coffee shop, For The Love Of Jo's in Port Perry; a location that had seen a number of the members performing solo as part of the usual open mike Friday nights. A kind of payback to Gabby, the owner to be sure. Call it The Change's Cavern Club; the comparison would not necessarily be that far off the mark.

For an aging music aficionado such as myself the pursuit of new music that actually speaks to me in a meaningful way is not as easy as it once was. How can one claim to be a lover of music when the majority of new music just leaves one cold. I will be the first to admit right here and now that I have just never, ever gotten rap, hip hop or techno. Valid musical styles I'm sure; just never for me. To me that music just sounds unabashedly derivative.

While I do hear the seeds of a number of artists which I grew up with and grew to love in their music the thing which sets The Change apart is the fact that they wear their influences on their sleeve for all to see. Marcus Adrian's vocals defy any kind of easy categorization. Kind of an unique amalgamation, if that makes any kind of sense. Marcus's overall range is most impressive.

Gregg McGean, with his bone white Fender Strat, adds tasteful, strident fills, while his solos hearken back to old Slowhand himself; not trying to flash with sheer speed (although he can when he wants to) but rather adding just the right kind of musical punctuation required to drive the song forward. Stratocasters have a very distinct voice, and Gregg takes full advantage.

While watching The Change on a small stage may not have given a true and accurate instance of their individual onstage personas I was still, none the less, drawn back to the energy that Matt Finbow consistently radiated. Playing rhythm guitar and singing backing vocals his energy was infectious. While I could sense the same kind of energy from the other band members, most demurred to the small stage which they occupied. Even Matt himself... but only for so long. Eventually he just could not contain the energy any longer.

There has never, EVER, been a band that I have admired that did not have a solid, killer rhythm section. The Stones with Bill Wyman and Charlie Watts, Aerosmith with Tom Hamilton and Joey Kramner, the mighty Led Zeppelin with John Paul Jones and John Bonham; a strong rhythm section

does any number of things. They anchor the beat, giving it continuity and presence. They allow it to expand beyond the norm; all the while keeping up and keeping pace. They provide a solid bedrock to allow the lead vocalist and guitar players to stretch out and let loose.

Kevin and Roy are just such a rhythm section. When all else seems to be coming apart at the seams they are capable of bringing it all back in focus. Kevin plays bass guitar almost as a lead instrument. He put me in mind of Geddy Lee in that respect. While the coffee house show pretty much limited Roy to a pair of bongos, I none the less had to check from time to time that he had not somehow snuck a full set of drums in, such was the beat that he was able to lay down.

And their CD? I like it; very much. The tunes are catchy in a way that stays with you even after a single listening. The harmonies are as tight as any band with five plus years of history; never mind that The Change have had, pretty much, one year to hone their skills. All original tunes I might add; which takes a certain amount of hutspa unless, of course, those original tunes can stand up on their own. Which, trust me, these songs not only can, but do.

A personal favourite of mine is "Her Revolution"; a tune which showed up both on their demo EP and their new CD "Roll Yr' Tongue". "Hit's The Spot" is another fave. "Citizen Of Grace", "I Feel Fine" and "The Change" all resonate with the same, true energy.

I hope that people who know me and know of my passion for music also know that I would not be touting these five young men if their music had not made me sit up and take notice. Trust me folks you owe it to yourself to check The Change out; you will not be disappointed.

Don't we all need a Change from time to time.

The Change - Roll Yr' Tongue is available on Amazon.com and iTunes (too name just two).

Links

The Change on Facebook

The Change on MySpace

2009-11-25T19:26:00.002-05:00

Say it isn't so Charlie!!!!

I suppose you heard the kerfuffle caused by the Charlie Watts Quits Rolling Stones headlines which cropped up at the beginning of September. It kind of got me to thinking "What if that had been true?" I mean, The Stones have survived other members leaving. Brian Jones left (was kicked out) the band and was replaced by a painfully young Mick Taylor. Mick Taylor quit the band, just as they were going to go into rehearsals for an upcoming tour of North America. Ron Wood stepped into Taylor's shoes as a temporary replacement and has just never had the good manners to leave. Bill Wyman, stoicism incarnate decided that, after the bands 1989 - 1990 comeback tour, he'd had enough. Journeyman bassist Darryl Jones stepped into his shoes most admirably and has been there ever since.

So, what then if Charlie had quit The Stones? If Mick Jagger or Keith Richards leave the band, well, the band has come to it's end; but Charlie? Hmmm. In a word, yes. That spells trouble for The Rolling Stones. Charlie is the one that keeps the beat. So what, you may think. So, Charlie is from the old school; the less is more school; the "shit, drum solos even bore me" school. Could any other drummer honestly step into Charlie's shoes and steer the mighty ship along it's course?

We may never know. The Rolling Stones camp, understandably, categorically denied these rumours. So Charlie remains with The Worlds Greatest Rock and Roll Band. At least until tomorrow.

Still, it got me to thinking of other bands from my youth that do not have those options; bands who had an integral member of the band kick the bucket before their time. Sure Brian Jones formed the Rolling Stones, and most likely named them, but by the time he left (was kicked out) he had pretty much become an also ran in the massive tsunami that was the writing partners Jagger / Richards.

Freddie Mercury, flamboyant lead singer for Queen came immediately to mind. A favourite band of mine who I saw live three times during their '70s heyday. The band disbanded after Mercury's death. They did reform (kinda) for a few years with ex Free / Bad Company vocalist Paul Rogers but without long-time bassist John Deacon. Did it work? Yeah, to a point it did. Paul Rogers is an awesome vocalist in his own right (check out Muddy Water Blues: A Tribute to Muddy Waters if you need any proof). He never was nor did he ever try to be Freddie, which is the only way anyone can hope to pull something like that off.

In the end he tired of the whole thing and handed in his resignation. No more "Queen".

Then there is the case of John Henry Bonham; an integral part of the engine that drove the mighty Led Zeppelin. When Bonham died during rehearsals for the 1980 North American tour (from and alcohol overdose no less (how rock 'n' roll is that?)) the band formally retired, citing the difficulty in finding someone else to helm the ship as good old Bonzo had.

For years afterwards Plant eschewed all things Zeppelin. Finally, in the early 90's he recorded and toured with Jimmy Page once again. But Plant eventually tired of that pursuit and quit. Then Ahmet Ertegun died. Who was Ahmet Ertegun I hear some of you asking? Why, none other than the person who assured Led Zeppelin was signed to their record contract with Atlantic Records.

So, when Ahmet passed on and joined the choirs invisible, the mighty Led Zeppelin took flight once more, with the late great John Bonham's son Jason at the helm. Even with the accolades ringing in their ears and the other two (three) members of the band ready, willing and able to tour behind their resurrected success, Robert Plant demurred.

Randy Rhodes (Blizard Of Oz), Steve Clark (Def Leppard), Joey Ramone (The Ramones), Bon Scott (AC/DC); the list goes on and on. And The Who. How could I ever forget The Who. Manic drummer Keith Moon and the Ox himself, John Entwistle have both died while active members of the band. A full 50% of the original lineup have snuffed it and still Roger Daltry and Pete Townsend continue. But they are a bit of a rarity in that respect.

Now the point of this little ramble isn't to question the relative wisdom of continuing on or breaking up once a member has joined that great big jam session in the sky. However, it did get me to thinking how many of the bands that I have loved growing up are no longer active.

So I Googled "Dead Rock Stars". Holy crap Batman, I don't think I am the only person who has considered this subject (Well no shit Sherlock). So, for your amusement, edification, rock and roll knowledge and just basically why the fuck not, here are some of my favorites:

Now, admittedly, this first one does have an axe to grind; witness "For their rock is not as our Rock... Deuteronomy 32:31. Still, that being said, it is a pretty comprehensive list of who died and what from. Premature Death Of Rock Stars

How could I ever hope to say it any better than this; Welcome to the club rock stars are dying to get into. Rock and Roll may never die but rock stars do! This site is a list of dead rock stars, dead people associated with rock and dead people whose music helped influence and create rock (which I feel includes Jazz and Country artists), sorted by the date of their demise. This is a tribute to them. LONG LIVE ROCK!! The Dead Rock Stars Club

A nice little site with selected dead rock stars Tribute To Dead Rock Stars

Now this one kind of rocks; that and it has a cool title. The 50 Most Awesomely Dead Rock Stars

Since so many rock stars that we here admire in North America originaly either came from or cut their teath in swinging London Town, here is a tour for you to take the next time you find yourself in that fair city. Dead Rock Star Tour Of London

Last but not least, one of my favorites. Find A Death. The link below will take you to a brief synopsis of Brian Jones, founder of the Rolling Stones (no Mick Jagger and Keith Richards did not found the band, regardless of what the spin doctors have managed to feed you over the years). But the website is so much more than that. In depth discussions of famous peoples deaths. More importantly there is a link to a site which will predict when it is that you are going to die. Creepy, n'est pas? My personal Day of death is Monday, August 22nd, 2033. I currently have 749,018,944 seconds left to live. O.K., so who's opening the book? Find A Death

The Aardvark

2009-11-17T19:32:00.003-05:00

I wonder what those veterans, those young men who went to war on our behalf and paid the ultimate price would think about the slow but long overdue resurgence of gratitude and admiration the younger generations seem to be brought up with these days. For many years it wasn't acceptable to thank and respect those that went to war so that we could be free.

It seems to be some defacto fact that, the further away that human kind gets from any kind of global conflict the further away the generations get from the truth, and therefore, a true appreciation of the sacrifices made by every countries youth, because youth make the best fodder. And so it was the further we got from the Korean and Veitnam wars the further our youth got from the whys and wherefores.

But 9/11 and all that came after has changed that, hasn't it.

It's ironic, is it not, that the freedom earned in blood and the future of every country's youth embroiled in conflict buys those that come after the freedom to question and criticize the sacrifices that bought them that self same freedom.

My uncle Alec fought in the second war to end all wars, proudly and without reservation. Not because it is what he wanted to do; rather because it was what he felt duty bound to do; for all those that could not to be sure.

He lost his best friend during Operation Market Garden. He once told me about crawling through a graveyard where he and a few comrades had gone to pay tribute to one of their fallen while the shells from an enemy bombardment fell all around. When they stood up afterwards, little tufts of grass had wrapped around their spit and polished buttons. While they could chuckle about it afterwards, while the bombardment was taking place they were terrified for their very lives; who could EVER hope to appreciate the kind of terror they felt, unless they, themselves, had been in a similar situation.

My parents and many of my relations lived through The Blitz, school aged children and therefore to young to take up arms. To me, sitting here safely in 2009. The thought of going to school in the morning after a bombing raid, walking past the bombed out hulks of homes and buildings that had been there just the day before is incomprehensible.

Freedom and democracy are the end results of the cost of a countries youth.

I have been fortunate in my lifetime to not only have known my much loved uncle, but also a very dear friend who served with both the 48th Highlanders and the Cape Town Highlanders. While Bob MacDonald was never called upon to go to war, he was always more than willing to do so. In fact, while a member of the Cape Town Highlanders, Bob was called to duty during those tumultous days during the end of Apartheid.

Growing up watching John Wayne, Sly Stalone and Ahnold beating back the bad guy it is very easy to say that, if called upon, anyone of us would have done the self same. But think about it. Could you honestly say you would be willing to crawl through the rat infested hell holes that were the trenches on the Western Front during the first war to end all wars?

Could you honestly say you could sit their and watch your best friend blown up in a tank from a hidden 88mm gun that you had been dispatched to find but never could.

Could you watch someone, friend or not, laying in a ditch futily trying to stuff their internal organs back into their own body just to stay alive.

Could you ever watch and attempt to comfort a friend while their lifeblood flowed inexorably from their body.

Unless you can, how could you ever hope to question the sacrifice that they make. You can hate and disagree with a war. That is your right, paid for in blood by soldiers. But do not; and I mean DO NOT question the soldiers who are there trying to protect the rights of freedom on your behalf.

All year through, but at this time in particular, each and every one of us owes those who currently serve and those who have served before a debt far to great to ever hope to repay. And those who made the ultimate sacrifice? Words fail me.

On November 11th, and during the entire week of the 11th, you owe it to a veteran to say a heart felt Thank You. That would be a start, because those who protect us from harm deserve our thanks, not to mention our prayers 365 days a year.

In Flanders Field

by John McCrae, May 1915

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields

A past remembrance of my Uncle Alec

2009-10-23T18:05:00.000-05:00

Revenge of the Extended Warranty

Is there anything quite as awful in this world as an Extended Warranty?

While it sounds like this wonderful marketing inspiration is there to give you piece of mind after you have made an expensive purchase, their true goal, their true raison d’être is to make money.

Business' are in business to make money, not to make you life any easier.

In November of '07 I bought a brand spanking new Hewlett Packard Media Edition laptop, 17" screen and all. When I made that purchase from a large big box store (Best Buy) I wanted to protect my investment. After all, I was dropping $1,400 on a new laptop. When the salesman innocently enquired if I wanted to sign up for their extended warranty I thought, shit I had probably better just in case something happened to this bad boy.

Seemed reasonable. $399.99 later I was the proud new owner of a kick ass laptop and peace of mind for the next three years that should anything happen my laptop and I were golden.

Skip forward 22 months. The display on my laptop started acting flakey. Weird patterns would arbitrarily crop up and then just as arbitrarily disappear.

WTF? After a few days the laptop would just boot up to a screen filled with vertical parallel lines and nothing more.

Video card is shot, right?

So, I made my way to the local Best Buy store, located in the Scarborough Town Centre complex. First thing I did was to check to make sure that the laptop was under warranty. Check.

Thus armed I made my way over to the much vaunted Geek Squad. Who ya gonna call? Geek Squad. Doesn’t have the same ring to it though, does it.

I fired my baby up for one of their techs to show the aforementioned behaviour. Sure enough, he concurred, my video card was FUBAR. Still under warranty? You betcha. So, no problems then, right?

Wrong.

After about a week I started getting antsy. The Aardvark without a laptop is not a pretty sight. The Geek Squad dude had given me a website where I might go and check the progress of my order. Which I did. It had been shipped; it had been received; it had been looked at and, wait a minute, that can't be right.

The problem wasn't covered under the extended warranty?

Again I say; WTF?

I checked with the Geek Squad (hitherto fore referred to as GS). You'll hear from someone soon, they assured me.

But what about the message on their website?

You'll hear from someone soon.

So I waited.

Two days later I did, in fact, hear from someone. This someone was telling me that once they popped the lid on my laptop they found extensive water damage.

Extensive water damage? WT... Well, you get the idea.

Plus things were cracked inside and not in generally good repair.

So they were reneging on their warranty. The self same one I dropped $399.99 (plus GST) on in happier, more naive times.

We can still fix it, they insisted, it will cost you $800 (plus GST).

Were they high? $800 to repair something which I had spent $399.99 (plus GST) on to protect against just such an eventuality? To the best of my knowledge I never spilled ANYTHING liquid on my laptop. But since it would only deteriorate to an I said - They said kind of thing I didn't dispute the fact to stridently, other than to say that I never spilt anything on it.

I told them to stuff the $800 (plus GST) where the proverbial sun doesn’t shine and to send it back to the big box store (Best Buy) that I dropped it off in the first place.

Should be there in a day or two they assured me.

At that time I started looking online to see how much a new system board would cost for my laptop. This was the thing that they said was screwed up. $200 give or take (plus GST). Fine, much better than what they were going to charge me.

I am quite comfortable under the hood of a computer so replacing a system board would be a new challenge but not one which I would be uncomfortable with.

Well, their day or two turned out to be a full seven days. When I got my laptop home I tried to fire it up, expecting to see the previously observed horizontal parallel lines. Except pressing the power button did nothing.

Nothing I tells ya.

It wouldn`t even start to boot up. Definitely not the same shape that I dropped the damn thing off in the first place.

The next day I went back to Best Buy (a big box shop) to complain, loudly and robustly) to anyone in a position of power that cared to listen.

All I got for that pain was a not so subtly veiled suggestion that I knew damned well that I had spilled something all over the keyboard but was just trying to put a fast one by them.

Bastards. My hackles still bristle with the memory.

So, I went home, called my insurance company and three days later was in possession of a cheque for $1,199.99 ($1,399.99 less a $200 deductible).

That was Tuesday of this week. My immediate reaction was to run out and buy a new laptop. Yet I hesitated. I didn`t want to buy the first laptop that presented itself and, since I knew that the October 22nd release of Windows 7 was going to bring a veritable flood of new computer hardware I waited a couple of days.

So, after much investigation, I ventured forth to a big box shop (Best Buy, but not the one at STC) and purchased the puppy that I am now typing this entry out on. It has more horsepower than my old laptop did, a larger faster hard drive, Windows 7 Home Premium OS (soon upgraded to Windows 7 Ultimate once I got the darned thing home) and so much more. At 15.6 inches the screen is smaller by 1.6 inches, but then again, size doesn’t matter (right ladies?)

The point of this entire diatribe? Well, I hope to warn you off purchasing extended warranties for any of you big budget purchases. It just isn't worth it and, in many ways, is just a money grab from you, the consumer who feels vulnerable after laying down your hard earned cash on a big purchase.

Extended warranties, by and large, are a cash grab. Nothing more and nothing less. If you still feel compelled to go that route... well, question anyone trying to sell you on the concept mercilessly; about every kind of contingency that you can possibly imagine. If they agree that everything is good, get it in writing. If they blanche at any point? Well, you can always thank me latter.

The Aardvark

R.I.P. Les Paul (June 9, 1915 – August 13, 2009

2009-09-04T12:18:00.001-05:00

The world of rock music lost one of it's pioneers Thursday. Les Paul, who was instrumental (so to speak) in the development of the solid body electric guitar, an instrument which "made the sound of rock and roll possible" passed away of complications from pneumonia. He was 94.

To say that he had a profound effect on the world of rock 'n' roll would be a gross understatement. Along with pioneering his eponymously named guitar Paul developed and produced the first multi track recording machine, accomplished by stacking eight mono tape machines and sending their outputs to one piece of tape. This allowed him to record each element of the music on a separate track. In this way Paul was able to mix the volumes of the vocals and instruments separately as well as the ability to add effects to each channel individually.

Another innovation of his was the addition of an extra playback head to his tape recorder which produced a delayed effect which became known as tape echo. This technique gave the recording more of a "live" feel and allowed the player to simulate different playing environments.

Les Paul was a true legend. Thinking back now over all the guitarists who adopted his creation as their signature axe; Jimmy Page, Jeff Beck, Eric Clapton, Duanne Allman, Mike Bloomfield, Eddie Van Halen, Peter Frampton and Slash to name but a few. Paul is Steve Miller's godfather. Jimi Hendrix consulted him about the construction of Electric Ladyland Studios. He was inducted into the Rock 'n' Roll Hall Of Fame at the 3rd annual induction dinner. Jeff Beck was his presenter.

The Gibson Les Paul has always been a personal favourite of mine. I like the look, I love the sound. In that I am not alone.

It isn't everyday that we loose a true original. Thursday, August 13th, 2009 was one of those days. So rest in peace Les, and thank you for your gift.

Enjoy that great jam session in the sky.

The Aardvark

For more information on Les Paul check out the following links:

In Loving Memory of Les Paul (Gibson Guitar)

Les Paul: Lesson's Of A Legend by Jim O'Donnell

Rock 'n' Roll Hall Of Fame Inductee

2009-08-26T14:47:00.005-05:00

Emerson, Lake and Palmer - Pictures At An Exhibition - Deluxe Edition

Artist: Emerson, Lake and Palmer

Label: Sanctuary Records

Release Dates:

Original: November, 1971
CD: October 7, 2008

Discs: 2

Aardvark's Rating:

out of 5

Emerson, Lake and Palmer's take on Ravel's arrangement of Mussorgsky's classical piece "Pictures At An Exhibition" has never been one of my favorites works in their cannon, yet it still stands up as a uniquie glance back at a time in progressive rock's infancy, when anything went.

Originally the band recorded and filmed an entire concert at the Lyceum Ballroom, but an intermitent hum from the vocal mikes negated any kind of release of that material. It was decided to give it one more go and their performance of Mussorgsky's masterpiece was captured to the bands satisfaction at the Newcastle City Hall in England. ELP's encore from that period, B Bumble and the Stingers hit "Nut Rocker", a rock take on the Nutcracker Suite, was included.

At the time Pictures was intended to be included as a bonus disc with their then current release, Tarkus. The idea was scraped and was, instead, released as a budget priced disc on it's own.

The piece, or an abreviated version of the piece, would remain in the bands repetoire throughout the rest of the 70's and for their 90's reunion tours.

With more modern recording and editing techniques, any sonic issues with the original recordings meant to comprise the Pictures LP have been eradicated. Their entire set from that night is included in this deluxe edition on disc two.

If your idea of the quintessential Emerson, Lake and Palmer song is Lucky Man, then run, don't walk, away from this release. If, however, you enjoy some of their more demanding pieces this release is for you.

Disc One (Recorded live Newcastle City Hall, England 26th March 1971): Promenade (Instrumental) The Gnome / Promenade (Vocal) / The Sage / The Old Castle / Blues Variation / Promenade (Instrumental 2) / The Hut Of Baba Yaga / The Curse Of Baba Yaga / The Hut Of Baba Yaga (Part 2) / The Great Gates Of Kiev / Nut Rocker / Pictures At An Exhibition Medley i) Promenade (Instrumental) ii) The Gnome iii) Promenade (Vocal) iv) The Sage v) The Hut Of Baba Yaga / The Great Gates Of Kiev/

Disc Two (Bonus Tracks - Live at the Lyceum Ballroom, December 9, 1970): Promenade (Instrumental) The Gnome / Promenade (Vocal) / The Sage / The Old Castle / Blues Variation / Promenade (Instrumental 2) / The Hut Of Baba Yaga / The Curse Of Baba Yaga / The Hut Of Baba Yaga (Part 2) / The Great Gates Of Kiev / The Barberian / Knife Edge / Rondo / Nut Rocker

2009-08-25T12:18:00.012-05:00

Emerson, Lake and Palmer - Brain Salad Surgery - Deluxe Edition

Artist: Emerson, Lake and Palmer

Label: Sanctuary Records

Release Dates:

Original: November 19, 1973
CD: October 7, 2008

Discs: 3 (2 CD / 1 DVD)

Aardvark's Rating:

out of 5

Originally titled "Whip Some Skull On Yer" (Cockney slang for fellatio), "Brain Salad Surgery" (a slightly less obvious euphamism for fellatto) was to became Emerson, Lake and Palmer's masterpiece. Forward thinking and original for it's time Surgery is one of those albums that sounds best when played start to finish without a break.

From the opening strains of the bands take on "Jerusalem" and on to the rather abrupt end of the album, ELP took the themes which had been dabbled with on past releases and brought it into a sharp, cohesive focus.

The electronic cacophony of "Toccata" followed, a song for which Carl Palmer used home made drum triggers for what could well have been the first drum synthesizer ever captured on record.

Following in the footsteps of "Lucy Man" and "From The Beginning" Greg Lake penned and recorded the poignant "Still... You Turn Me On" which led right to "Benny The Bouncer" a fun ragtime, piano driven song.

And then, there is Karn Evil #9: a song which Pete Sinfield, an old friend from Lake's King Crimson days helped with the lyrics and also helped title the song, commenting that it sounded like the music sounded like a carnival. And so, the 30+ minute epic was born.

This deluxe edition sounds fantastic and has two discs of bonus content: a CD of b-sides, and outtake and the original first mix of the album rejected by the band and a DVD of the album mixed in 5.1 surround sound.

If you love Progressive Rock, or are just curious about what all the fuss was about, you owe it to yourself to pick this title up.

Disc One (Original album remixed): Jerusalem / Toccata / Still... You Turn Me On / Benny The Bouncer / Karn Evil 9 1st Impression Part 1 / Karn Evil 9 1st Impression Part 2 / Karn Evil 9: 2nd Impression / Karn Evil 9: 3rd Impression

Disc Two (Bonus Tracks): When The Apple Blossoms Bloom In The Windmills Of Your Mind I'll Be Your Valentine / Brain Salad Surgery / Karn Evil 9: 3rd Impression - Original Back Track / Jerusalem - First Mix / Still... You Turn Me On - First Mix / Toccata - First Mix / Karn Evil 9 1st Impression Part 1 - First Mix / Karn Evil 9 1st Impression Part 2 - First Mix / Karn Evil 9: 2nd Impression - First Mix / Karn Evil 9: 3rd Impression - First Mix / Excerpts from Brain Salad Surgery - From the NME Flexidisc

Disc Three (DVD 5.1 Mix): Jerusalem / Toccata / Still... You Turn Me On / Benny The Bouncer / Karn Evil 9 1st Impression Part 1 / Karn Evil 9 1st Impression Part 2 / Karn Evil 9: 2nd Impression / Karn Evil 9: 3rd Impression

2009-07-30T15:49:00.016-05:00

R.I.P. Michael Jackson (August 29, 1958 - June 25, 2009)...

So the long saga, sometimes thrilling, sometimes not so much so, has come to a premature end. The talent of the self proclaimed King of Pop is undeniable. While his tabloid lifestyle dominated the later part of his life, it is not my intention herein to question the whys and wherefores. Whether you considered him a freak or a genius, I shall leave the non musical flotsam and jetsom of his life to those more knowledgable than I to debate.

Jackson, who was awarded a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 1984, dominated the pop landscape during the 80's in a way that few, if any, had before or have done since. As a solo artist he had a total of 13 number one Billboard Hot 100 hits, including 3 during 1983 alone (yeah, they were from THAT album). His first number one was a love song to a rat that went by the name of Ben (1972). His last was You Are Not Alone (1995) from his double cd HIStory.

Thirteen more number ones on the Billboard R&B charts, 29 Top 10 Hot 100 its. During his heyday, high profile guitarists Eddie Van Halen (Beat It) and Steve Stevens (Dirty Dianna) added their considerable guitar prowess to the proceedings. Sir Paul McCartney dueted with MJ on Say Say Say, one of those three aforementioned number ones achieved during that heady year 1983. Not to shabby for any artist.

Then there was Thriller. The world wide number one selling album of all time which, to date, has sold in excess of 100 million copies. That's a lot of damned zeros folks; and it will only go up in the days and weeks to come.

Admitedly Michael started to loose me the night I sat in anticipation of the video premiere for his then current single Black Or White. The song itself was quite good; very catchy even. But when the main part of the video ended and Michael went on a rampage in a city street, smashing car windows, "Hooooooooooooo"ing here and there, with no aparent rhyme nor reason, well, it just reaked of being controversial for controversy sake.

I understand and appreciate that sometimes you have to shock to get your point across, but, for the life of me, I just can't figure out what the hell his point was. Apparently, neither could he since the very next day he made a public apology following the world wide approar that followed. While I never followed Michael that closely at the best of times, I believe that was the one and only time the full video was played on the public airwaves.

The first time I heard a young Michael singing was when he performed "ABC" with his brothers in The Jackson Five. I still love that song.

So rest in peace MJ. Visionary, humanitarian, freak? From today and moving forward non of that should matter. At the end of it all, the only thing that any artist can truely hope is that their art stands the test of time, long after they are gone.

On that point alone I don't think Michael Jackson has anything to worry about.

The Aardvark

2009-07-10T13:16:00.016-05:00

Black Sabbath - Paranoid - Deluxe Edition

Artist: Black Sabbath

Label: Sanctuary Records

Release Dates:

Original: September, 1970
CD: April 7, 2009

Discs: 3 (2 CD / 1 DVD)

Aardvark's Rating:

Would it suprise you to know that Black Sabbath's sofmore release was originally slated to be called "War Pigs"? Yet, at the last minute, after the cover artwork had already been shot, the producer announced that the album which they had just struggled to produce was too short. Well, shit; what to do?

Why, record another song, naturally. And thus was born Paranoid, one of Black Sabbath's most easily recognizable songs; a song which, to this very day, finds it's way into their encores with alarming regularity.

Paranoid, the song, became the title of the new release. And what a release it was. One of the things that sets a true superstar band apart from all other bands is their ability to release a second disc which exceeds, if not just meets, the popularity of their first one.

While Black Sabbath, by Black Sabbath had such notable songs as "Black Sabbath", "The Wizard" and "N.I.B., Paranoid produced and entire album of notable songs... "Paranoid", "War Pigs", "Fairies Wear Boots", "Iron Man" and "Electric Funeral"... well, what can I say.

Black Sabbath was THE band which laid down the blueprint for most, if not all, heavy metal bands to follow. Steppenwolf may well have been the band to coin and popularize the phrase, but Black Sabbath made it manifest and real.

For anyone who likes Black Sabbath, or even just wonders about the roots of their favorite metal, thrash band need look no further than "Paranoid".

Dig it!

Disc One (Original album remastered): War Pigs / Paranoid / Planet Caravan / Iron Man / Electric Funeral / Hand Of Doom / Rat Salad / Fairies Wear Boots

Disc Two (Quadrophonic Mixes): War Pigs / Paranoid / Planet Caravan / Iron Man / Electric Funeral / Hand Of Doom / Rat Salad / Fairies Wear Boots

Disc Three (Early takes, demos etc): War Pigs / Paranoid / Planet Caravan / Iron Man / Electric Funeral / Hand Of Doom / Rat Salad / Fairies Wear Boots

2009-06-30T13:16:00.003-05:00

HAPPY CANADA DAY!!!

** A FRIEND OF MINE PUBLISHED THIS NOTE, I HAD TO BORROW IT ***
(Thank you Shawn, loved this)

Sunday Telegraph Article From today's UK wires: Salute to a brave and modest nation - Kevin Myers, The Sunday Telegraph LONDON

Until the deaths of Canadian soldiers killed in Afghanistan , probably almost no one outside their home country had been aware that Canadian troops are deployed in the region. And as always, Canada will bury its dead, just as the rest of the world, as always will forget its sacrifice, just as it always forgets nearly everything Canada ever does.

It seems that Canada 's historic mission is to come to the selfless aid both of its friends and of complete strangers, and then, once the crisis is over, to be well and truly ignored.

Canada is the perpetual wallflower that stands on the edge of the hall, waiting for someone to come and ask her for a dance. A fire breaks out, she risks life and limb to rescue her fellow dance-goers, and suffers serious injuries. But when the hall is repaired and the dancing resumes, there is Canada , the wallflower still, while those she once helped
Glamorously cavort across the floor, blithely neglecting her yet again.

That is the price Canada pays for sharing the North American continent with the United States , and for being a selfless friend of Britain in two global conflicts. For much of the 20th century, Canada was torn in two different directions:
It seemed to be a part of the old world, yet had an address in the new one, and that divided identity ensured that it never fully got the gratitude it deserved. Yet its purely voluntary contribution to the cause of freedom in two world wars was perhaps the greatest of any democracy.

Almost 10% of Canada 's entire population of seven million people served in the armed forces during the First World War, and nearly 60,000 died. The great Allied victories of 1918 were spearheaded by Canadian troops, perhaps the most capable soldiers in the entire British order of battle.

Canada was repaid for its enormous sacrifice by downright neglect, it's unique contribution to victory being absorbed into the popular Memory as somehow or other the work of the "British."

The Second World War provided a re-run. The Canadian navy began the war with a half dozen vessels, and ended up policing nearly half of the Atlantic against U-boat attack. More than 120 Canadian warships participated in the Normandy landings, during which 15,000 Canadian soldiers went ashore on D-Day alone. Canada finished the war with the third-largest navy and the fourth-largest air force in the world.

The world thanked Canada with the same sublime indifference as it had the previous time. Canadian participation in the war was acknowledged in film only if it was necessary to give an American actor a part in a campaign in which the United States had clearly not participated - a touching scrupulousness which, of course, Hollywood has since abandoned, as it has any notion of a separate Canadian identity.

So it is a general rule that actors and filmmakers arriving in Hollywood keep their nationality - unless, that is, they are Canadian. Thus Mary Pickford, Walter Huston, Donald Sutherland, Michael J. Fox, William Shatner, Norman Jewison, David Cronenberg, Alex Trebek, Art Linkletter and Dan Aykroyd have in the popular perception become American, and Christopher Plummer, British.

It is as if, in the very act of becoming famous, a Canadian ceases to be Canadian, unless she is Margaret Atwood, who is as unshakably Canadian as a moose, or Celine Dion, for whom
Canada has proved quite unable to find any takers.

Moreover, Canada is every bit as querulously alert to the
achievements of it's sons and daughters as the rest of the world is
completely unaware of them. The Canadians proudly say of
themselves - and are unheard by anyone else - that 1% of the
world's population has provided 10% of the world's peacekeeping
forces. Canadian soldiers in the past half century have been the
greatest peacekeepers on Earth - in 39 missions on UN mandates, and
six on non-UN peacekeeping duties, from Vietnam to East Timor, from
Sinai to Bosnia .

Yet the only foreign engagement that has entered the popular
on-Canadian imagination was the sorry affair in Somalia , in which
out-of-control paratroopers murdered two Somali infiltrators. Their
regiment was then disbanded in disgrace - a uniquely Canadian act
of self-abasement for which, naturally, the Canadians received no
international credit.

So who today in the United States knows about the stoic and
selfless friendship its northern neighbour has given it in
Afghanistan? Rather like Cyrano de Bergerac , Canada repeatedly
does honourable things for honourable motives, but instead of being
thanked for it, it remains something of a figure of fun.

It is the Canadian way, for which Canadians should be proud,
yet such honour comes at a high cost. This past year more grieving
Canadian families knew that cost all too tragically well.

2009-04-02T12:18:00.146-05:00

Favorite Live CDs

Now to finally complete something that I only just started on the old version of the Aattic, here are a list of my top 20 legitimately released live CDs along with explanations as to why they are on this list. There is a heck of a lot of great live music out there to enjoy. Hopefully this will help serve to guide you in some way or another.

Maybe you agree with them, maybe you don't. Maybe this might inspire you to go and check out these little chunks of music history.

Either way and as always, please enjoy.

1. Live in Santa Monica 72 - David Bowie & The Spiders From Mars
2. What Do You Want from Live - The Tubes
3. How the West Was Won - Led Zeppelin
4. The Best Band You Never Heard in Your Life - Frank Zappa
5. Seconds Out - Genesis
6. Hammersmith Odeon 75 - Bruce Springsteen
7. Live At Leeds - The Who
8. Budokan! 30th Anniversary Edition - Cheap Trick
9. Live! Bootleg - Aerosmith
10. Weld - Neil Young and Crazy Horse
11. All The Worlds A Stage - Rush
12. Made In Japan (Expanded Edition) - Deep Purple
13. The Last Waltz (Expanded Edition) - The Band
14. Welcome Back My Friends - Emerson, Lake and Palmer
15. Plays Live - Peter Gabriel
16. Pack Up The Plantation - Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers
17. Frampton Comes Alive 25th Anniversary - Peter Frampton
18. Crossroads 2: Live In The Seventies - Eric Clapton
19. Here And There - Elton John
20. Get You Ya Yas Out - The Rolling Stones

Live in Santa Monica '72 - David Bowie

David Bowie live in 1972. Long available as a bootleg, this seminal concert presents all that is good about his Ziggy Stardust persona. The band was still just a four piece with Mick Ronson on guitar and vocals, Mick "Woody" Woodmansey on drums, Trevor Bolder on Bass and Mike Garson on piano. This was well before he became tired of the Ziggy persona and perpatrated one of the greatest rock 'n' roll exits of all time; his legendary Hammersmith Odeon show when he announced his retirement, much to the shock and horror of his drummer and bass player.

The Santa Monica concert itself was a revelation for a staid North American crowd. Ziggy took androginy to a new level. Coupled with a frenetic stage presence and the mock oral copulation during Ronson's The Width Of A Circle guitar solo... time stood still.

If you would like to find out more about this fascinating era of David Bowie then I highly recommend you check out The Ziggy Stardust Companion for more info.

Tracklist:

Hang On To Yourself
Ziggy Stardust
Changes
The Supermen
Life On Mars?
Five Years
Space Oddity
Andy Warhol
My Death
The Width Of A Circle
Queen Bitch
Moonage Daydream
John, I'm Only Dancing
Waiting For The Man
The Jean Genie
Suffragette City
Rock n Roll Suicide.

Classic rock 'n' roll at it's finest folks.

What Do You Want From Live - The Tubes

The Tubes in the 70's were a group of nine lunatics from the San Fransisco area who took theatrics in rock to the edge, and then promptly leapt over with wild and reckless abandon. Creating musical frameworks for such diverse characters as Johnny Bugger (with his band the Dirt Bags), a Cleausau like detective in Smoke (La Vie en Fumer) and the quintescential burnt out rock and roll singer Quay Lewd (the latter in 12 inch high platform boots, a massive shock of blonde hair, glasses that lit up and spelt the name Quay and a mirrored Q shaped guitar), well, let's suffice it to say that I have never, and I do mean NEVER, seen another band quite like the Tubes.

Of course the fact that they are all consumate musicians only helps to enhance their legacy. If you would like to catch an in depth vision of who and what The Tubes were, then look no further than The Tubes Project, a feature length documentary currently in production and created by one time Tubes keyboard player Michael Cotton. Check out his MySpace Page for mor information and cool videos.

WDYWfL was recorded at the famous Hammersmith Odeon, London England in November of 1977.

Tracklist:

Overture: Up From The Deep / Young and Rich / Madam I'm Adam / Mondo Bondage
Got Yourself A Deal
Show Me A Reason
What Do You Want From Life
God-Bird-Change
Special Ballet
Don't Touch Me There
Mondo Bondage
Smoke (La Vie en Fumer)
Crime Medley
I Was A Punk Before You Were A Punk
I Saw Her Standing There
Drum Solo
Boy Crazy
You're No Fun
Stand Up And Shout
White Punks On Dope

How The West Was Won - Led Zeppelin

Ya know, Led Zeppelin never got the mainstream props they were due... but this fact never seemed to bother them. Their fan base always had more to do with true music afficianados than it did with top 40 kind of tripe. The self same thing that usually precludes a band from having to come up against the usual kind of time sensitive scrutiny only served to preclude the mighty Led Zeppelin from the same. They loved and embraced their blues roots.

As of 1973 the Zepps were already behind four albums, an unheard of state of affairs by these days standards. I mean, let me ask you this... how many CURRENT bands do you know that have already put forth such timeless classics as; Communication Breakdown, How Many More Times, Babe I Gotta Leave You, Dazed and Confused, Whole Lotta Love, Living Loving Maid, Ramble On, Heartbreaker, Thank You, Rock 'n' Roll, Black Dog, Misty Mountain Hop, Stariway To Heaven, Going To California, Gallows Pole, Celebration Day, Since I've Been Loving You in a matter of a couple of years... need I go on.

This set has been culled from two seperate shows (June 25th, 1973 - LA Forum and June 27th - Long Beach Arena) to find out which track came from which date, or, more acurately, which part of which track came from which date then check out The Garden Tapes.

Miss this live offering at your peril...

Tracklist:

Disc 1:
LA Drone
Immigrant Song
Heartbreaker
Black Dog
Over The Hills and Far Away
Since I've Been Loving Your
Stairway To Heaven
Going To California
That's The Way
Bron-Yr-Aur-Stomp
Disc 2:
Dazed And Confused
What Is and What Should Never Be
Dancing Days
Moby Dick

Disc 3:
Whole Lotta Love
Rock And Roll
The Ocean
Bring It On Home

The Best Band You Never Heard In Your Life - Frank Zappa

I don't think I could introduce this CD any better than Frank Zappa himself did on the liner notes to this CD:

The 1988 road band self-destructed before U.S. audiences in the south, Midwest and West could hear it perform. It was, however, heard and appreciated by East Coast and European audiences during its brief existence (four months of rehearsal in 1987/1988, followed by a tour, February through June, 1988), and it is from those performances that this compilation has been made.

The collection features big-band arrangements of concert favorites and obscure album cuts, along with deranged versions of cover tunes and a few premiere recordings.

In a world where most of the "big groups" go on stage and pretend to sing and play, we proudly present this quaint audio artifact. Yes, once upon a time, live musicians actually sang and played this. All material contained herein is 100% live, and there are no over-dubs of any kind

A number of wicked covers are true highlights of this disk which, along with the CD's Broadway the Hard Way and Make a Jazz Noise Here
documented this wonderful tour. A tour, I might add, that proved to be Zappa's last before succombing to prostate cancer in 1993.

I'm here to tell you right now that you really haven't lived until you have heard Zappa's arrangement of the Led Zeppelin classic Stairway To Heaven. Nuff said.

Tracklist:

Disc 1:
Heavy Duty Judy
Ring Of Fire
Cosmic Debris
Find Her Finer
Who Needs The Peace Corps
I Left My Heart In San Fransisco
Zomby Woof
Bolero
Zoot Allures
Mr. Green Genes
Florentine Pogen
Andy
Inca Roads
Sofa No. 1

Disc 2:
Purple Haze
Sunshine Of Your Love
Let's Move To Cleveland
When Irish Eyes Are Smiling
"Godfather Part II" Theme
A Few Minutes With Brother A. West
The Torture Never Stops Part 1
Theme From "Bonanza"
Lonsome Cowboy Burt (Swaggart Version)
The Torture Never Stops Part 2
More Trouble Every Day (Swaggart Version)
Penguin In Bondage (Swaggart Version)
Eric Dolphy Memorial Barbecue
Stairway To Heaven

Seconds Out - Genesis

With the departure of lead singer Peter Gabriel after the conclusion of the 1975 Lamb Lies Down On Broadway tour Genesis were left looking for a new vocalist. Fortunately they didn't have to look far as they soon promoted Phil Collins from within their own ranks. Two successful studio albums later (A Trick Of The Tail and Wind and Wuthering) and it was time to release their second live album.

Enlisting the aid of Chester Thompson (ex Weather Report, Frank Zappa) and or Bill Bruford (ex Yes, King Crimson) on various tracks Genesis flex their musical muscle with a healthy mix of old Gabriel era songs (classic version of Supper's Ready here) and newer tunes from the two post Grabriel releases.

While the album was being mixed guitarist Steve Hackett handed in his resignation, making him the third member of the band to leave (Anthony Phillips was the first in 1970).

If you like progressive rock you should definately check this double disc set out.

Tracklist:

Disc 1:
Squonk
The Carpet Crawlers
Robbery, Assault and Battery
Afterglow
Firth of Fifth
I Know What I Like (In Your Wardrobe)
Lamb Lies Down On Broadway
Musical Box (closing section)

Disc 2:
Supper's Ready
Cinema Show
Dance On A Volcano
Los Endos

Hammersmith Odeon, London '75 - Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band

Following the success stateside of Springsteens seminal Born To Run release his record company were hot to introduce The Boss to the United Kingdom and Europe. To that end they organized a brief tour.

The first of two dates at the Hammersmith Odeon in London England was professionally recorded and filmed on silent 16mm stock.

In 2006 to celebrate the 30th anniversary of Born To Run, the record company release a special edition of the classic platter which included the aforementioned 16mm film dubed with the professional recording to produce a true treat for fans of this seminal album.

Several months later they released this two cd set with the soundtrack from that long ago November evening in 1975. Classic Springsteen with his long time partners in crime, the E Street Band.

Tracklist:

Disc 1:
Thunder Road
Tenth Avenue Freeze Out
Spirits In The Night
Lost In The Flood
Mona/She's The One
Born To Run
The E Street Shuffle/Havin' A Party
It's Hard To Be A Saint In The City
Backstreets

Disc 2:
Kitty's Back
Jungleland
Rosalita (Come Out Tonight)
4th Of July / Asbury Park (Sandy)
Detroit Medley:
Devil With A Blue Dress On, Jenny Take A Ride, Good Golly, Miss Molly and CC Rider
For You
Quarter To Three

Live At Leeds (Deluxe Edition) - The Who

Long considered one of the best live albums ever recorded the original live album contained only six songs from this classic set.

This title has seen three different incarnations on cd. The first mimiced the original LP release. For fun I have italisized the songs which were contained on the original release.

The second incarnation consisted of the entire non-Tommy section of the concert (with the exception of Amazing Journey and Sparks).

The third itereation, and the one I am recommending here, contains the entire concert including bits of between song banter that had been removed from previous releases. The only thing that stops this from being an all time classic is the fact that the entire Tommy set has been dedicated to the second disc rather than residing in the true concert running order.

For informational purposes the Tommy set resided between The Who's mini opera A Quick One While He's Away and their take on the old Eddie Cochran staple Summertime Blues. If you would like to get a fair representation of this then check out Live at the Isle of Wight Festival 1970 a concert recorded the following year.

Tracklist:

Disc 1:
Heaven And Hell
I Can't Explain
Fortune Teller
Tattoo
Young Man Blues
SubstituteHappy Jack
I'm A Boy
A Quick One While He's Away
Summtime Blues
Shakin' All Over
My Generation
Magic Bus

Disc 2:
Overture
It's A Boy
1921
Amazing Journey
Sparks
Eyesight To The Blind
Christmas
The Acid Queen
Pinball Wizard
Do You Think It's Alright?
Fiddle About
Tommy Can You Hear Me
There's A Doctor
Go To The Mirror!
Smash The Mirror
Miracle Cure
Sally Simpson
I'm Free
Tommy's Holiday Camp
We're Not Gonna Take It

Budokan! 30th Anniversary Edition - Cheap Trick

Back in 1978 Cheap Trick were a band out of Rockford, Illonois with three studio albums to their credit who seemed destined to languish in relative obscurity. Cheap Trick, In Color and Heaven Tonight were full of catchy pop musings with a harder edge and their wicked sense of humour but none of them had broken the U.S. top 40.

It was suggested by the record company that they should go and tour Japan, where all three albums had gone gold. Upon arriving in Japan the band were greeted with a frenzy approaching Beatlemania.

As a thank you to their Japanese fans the Triksters recorded their April 28th and 30th 1978 appearances at the venerated Nippon Budokan in Tokyo with an eye to releasing a Japan only release.

Cheap Trick At Budokan soon became a highly coveted U.S. Import. Such was the interest shown in the album, Epic Records capitulated and release the LP as a domestic product. Cheap Trick has never looked back since.

This 30th Anniversary edition houses one DVD filmed on that fateful evening, and three CD's. Two of which contain the Complete Concert. The third CD contains an audio companion to the DVD concert.

For anyone who, like me, wondered what gave with Robin Zander's slow "I want you... to want... me" intro to the song of the same titler, the man himself finally comes clean, admitting that he was afraid the Japanese audience wouldn't understand him speaking his native tongue. So in the great tradition of people caught in a foreign land who can only speak English, Robin talked really... really... slowly...

Tracklist:

DVD
Hello There
Elo Kiddies
Speak Now (Or Forever Hold You Peace)
Lookout
Downed
Can't Hold On
Oh Caroline
Surrender
Auf Wiedersehen
Sothern Girls
I Want You To Want Me
California Man
Goodnight
Aint' That A Shame
Clock Strikes Ten
Come On Come On
(above tracks are from the original April 28th 1978 show)
Voices
If You Want My Love
(taken from the 30th anniversary concerts performed at the Budokan in 2008)

DVD Soundtrack:
Hello There
Come On Come On
Elo Kiddies
Speak Now (Or Forever Hold Your Peace)
Big Eyes
Lookout
Downed
Can't Hold On
Oh Caroline
Surrender
Auf Wiedersehen
Need Your Love
High Roller
Southern Girls
I Want You To Want Me
California Man
Goodnight
Ain't That A Shame
Clock Strikes Ten

Complete Concert

Disc 1:
Hello There
Come On Come On
Elo Kiddies
Speak Now (Or Forever Hold Your Peace)
Big Eyes
Lookout
Downed
Can't Hold On
Oh Caroline
Surrender
Auf Wiedersehen

Disc 2:
Need Your Love
High Roller
Southern Girls
I Want You To Want Me
California Man
Goodnight
Ain't That A Shame
Clock Strikes Ten

Live! Bootleg - Aerosmith

I've always loved Aerosmith, ya know. Sure, in the 70's the original and classic line up kind of self destructed due in no small part to the copious amounts of substances they were ingesting. Especially lead singer Steven Tyler and guitarist Joe Perry. Nick named The Toxic Twins for very very good reason, as messers Tyler and Perry went, so went the band.

Yet, through the drug haze, Tyler must have had a vision of his bands future when he wrote a set of rather prophetic lyrics for a favorite song of mine, No More No More from their classic Toys In The Attic release. It goes sometihng like this:

It's the same old story, never get a second chance for a dance to the top of the heap

Except, in the case of Aerosmith, they did get a second chance and took full advantage of said chance in 1987, when all five original members got clean and released the classic Permanent Vacation.

Yet despite Aerosmith's relative logevity they have released a dearth of original studio material. For a band that has been around for pushing 40 years to have released a mere 13 albums of original material, eight during the heyday of vinyl records (read 30 - 35 minutes each) and then you are really in trouble.

Now, ponder this statistic. In that same time period the band have managed to release no less than eight Greatest Hit / Box set packages with an additional four live albums and a studio album of old blues / Rhythm and Blues covers and, well... what can I tell you.

Still, through it all I have remained a fan of the bad boys from Boston, primarily because of their live chops. These guys are one of THE best live bands I have ever had the pleasure of seeing. To this very day.

And, other than a popular bootleg from back in the day called Look Homeward Angel, Live! Bootleg was my first introduction to the magic which is Aerosmith in concert. Recorded at various venues during their Rocks / Draw The Line tours the sheer energy hold up 30 odd years on.

Sounds best when played loud!!!

Tracklist:

Back In The Saddle
Sweet Emotion
Lord Of The Thighs
Toys In The Attic
Last Child
Come Together
Walk This Way
Sick As A Dog
Dream On
Chip Away The Stone
Sight For Sore Eyes
Mama Kin
S.O.S. (Too Bad)
I Ain't Got You
Mother Popcorn
Draw The Line
Train Kept A Rollin'/Strangers In The Night

Weld - Neil Young & Crazy Horse

While I will readily admit that Neil Young is not to everyone's taste, there is still no denying his musical legacy. To call his output prodigious would be an insult. From his earliest days with the Winnipeg band The Squires, through stints with the legendary Buffalo Springfield and on to his on again off again tenure with Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young he has managed to turn out memorable song after memorable song.

And we aren't even talking about his solo career yet. Nor his time with Crazy Horse, or The Stray Gators, the Trans Band, The Shocking Pinks, The International Harvesters, The Bluenotes... shit, need I go on?

Hell, Neil also recorded with the late great Rick James of "Super Freak" fame before James was arrested for being AWOL from the army.

But, as always, Neil marched very distinctly to the beat of his own musical drummer.

Weld is a two disc set recorded with Crazy Horse while touring behind his Ragged Glory offering. Inspired in no small way by the then current Gulf War, this release was drowned in a feedback distorted angst which prompted then current music heavyweights Kurt Cobain (Nirvana) and Eddie Vedder (Pearl Jam) to dub Neil Young as the godfather of grunge.

At the time of Weld's release a companion single disc titled Arc consisted in its entirity a sound collage of guitar noise and feedback, no doubt influenced by Young's choice of Sonic Youth as his opening act.

Listen to his feedback and siren drenched take on the old Dylan chestnut Blowin' In The Wind; his guitar solo during Cortez The Killer or Powderfinger; the mournfull dirge which is Tonight's the Night.

For a reminder that the fire still burns within some elder statesmen of rock, look no further than Weld!

Tracklist:

Disc 1
Hey Hey, My My (Into The Black)
Crime In The City
Blowin' In The Wind
Welfare Mothers
Love To Burn
Cinnamon Girl
Mansion On The Hill
F*!#in' Up

Disc 2
Cortez The Killer
Powderfinger
Love and Only Love
Rockin' In The Free World
Like A Hurricane
Farmer John
Tonight's The Night
Roll Another Number (For the Road)

All The Worlds A Stage - Rush

O.K. So your name is John Rutsey. You are the drummer for a power trio from the GTA (that would be Greater Toronto Area for all you neophites). After recording your first album but two weeks before your first U.S. tour you decide to quit the band. Good career move or not so much so?

Well, if the band you just quit was Johnny and the Bum Fuckers, then, yeah, maybe it was a good career decision.

If the band you just quit was Rush, well, maybe not so much so.

But here's the rub. John Rutsey's replacement Neil Peart soon became the bands primary lyracist. Which begs the question... if old JR had stayed the coarse, would Rush be the band that they currently are?

Considering the fact that Neil has put the words in Geddy's mouth time after time I would have to vote a great big NO!!!

That being said, Rutsey quit the band in no small part due to his ongoing battle with Diabetes. So there ya go.

All the Worlds A Stage was recorded during a three night stand at the bands home town venue Massey Hall in support of their 2112 release. By the bands own admission this live album marked the end of the "first chapter of Rush" and would start a trend for the band of four studio albums followed up by a live album.

If you are a fan of Rush then you owe it to yourself to listen to this, their first live offering. Everything, every hint of future glory is contained on this release.

This disc still finds it's way into my playlist with alarming frequency.

Tracklist:

Bastille Day
Anthem
Fly By Night/In The Mood
Something For Nothing
Lakeside Park
2112
Overture
The Temple Of Syrinx
Presentation
Soliloquy
Grand Finale
By-Tor And The Snow Dog
In The End
Working Man/Finding My Way
What You're Doing

Made In Japan (Remastered Edition) - Deep Purple

While I can't say for sure that the band Deep Purple have had the most major iterations in band membership I nonetheless don't feel as though I am going out on to big a limb by saying they have had their fare share.

Deep Purple MK I, MK II, MK III, MK IV, MK IIb, MK V, MK IIc, MK VI, MK VII, MK VIII... well, you get the idea.

For many, myself included, the heyday of the band was the original MK II incarnation. Ian Gillan on vocals, Roger Glover bass, Ian Paice drums, Jon Lord on keyboards and the enfant terrible himself, Ritchie Blackmore on guitar.

This was the lineup that recoded the seminal In Rock album, Machine Head with the riff that launched a thousand guitarists, Fireball and Who Do We Think We Are with a personal favorite tune of theirs, Woman From Tokyo.

Then there was this live album. Like Cheap Trick to follow, Deep Purple toured Japan in 1972 and recorded three nights, August 15 - 17 in Osaka and at the Nippon Budokan in Tokyo. Originally intended as a Japan only release the album eventually broke world wide and became one of the quintesential live albums of all time.

Drawing extensively from their Machine Head release Deep Purple played with such ferocisty the Japanese audiences were left stunned into silence. Ian Gillan's vocal histronics on the In Rock chestnut Child In Time still sends shivers up my spine. And I dare anyone to listen to the opening Machine Head track, Highway Star while driving a vehicle and not exceed the posted speed limit.

In 1993 a three cd set titled Live In Japan was released. While the original Made In Japan release consisted mainly of tracks from the August 16th gig in Osaka (save Smoke On The Water from the 15th and The Mule and Lazy from the 17th, this triple disc offering filled in many of the gaps releasing the remaining tracks from the 15th and the 17th as well as those three non 16th tracks from the original release.

In 1998 an expanded edition of the set was released which includes three encores; Black Night and Speed King from the 17th and Lucille from the 16th.

Confused yet? No need. Just let the boogie take your soul and you will be just fine!

Tracklist:
Made In Japan

Disc 1
Highway Star (Osaka 16th)
Child In Time (Osaka 16th)
Smoke On The Water (Osaka 15th)
The Mule (Tokyo 17th)
Strange Kind Of Woman (Osaka 16th)
Lazy (Tokyo 17th)
Space Truckin' (Osaka 16th)

Disc 2 (The encores)
Black Night (Tokyo 17th)
Speed King (Tokyo 17th)
Lucille (Osaka 16th)

Live In Japan

Osaka, August 15th 1972
Disc 1: Good Morning
Highway Star
Child In Time
The Mule
Strange Kind Of Woman
Lazy
Space Truckin'
Black Night (encore)

Osaka, August 16th, 1972
Disc 2: Next week, we're turning professional
Highway Star
Smoke On The Water
Child In Time
The Mule
Strange Kind Of Woman
Lazy
Space Truckin'

Tokyo, August 17th, 1972
Disc 3: Can we have everything louder than everything else?
Highway Star
Smoke On The Water
Child In Time
Strange Kind Of Woman
Lazy
Space Truckin'
Speed King (encore)

The Last Waltz (Expanded Edition) - The Band

In 1976 Robbie Robertson, erstwhile leader of The Band decided, unilaterally as it turns out, to have one final big shindig before calling it quits.

The Band had been there in Toronto when Ronnie Hawkins was looking for a backup band, The Hawks.

The Band had been there when, in 1965, Dylan first eschewed his acoustic folksy roots and plugged in his Fender Strat and blew away all the allusions his fans had of who it is that he was.

Freed of Dylans reigns The Band toured and recorded in their own right. Moondog Matinee, Songs From Big Pink... The Band had been there, done that and then done that again. By 1976 they were tired of the road; tired of the musical grind. Robertson convinved the other members that maybe it was time for them to hang up their hats while they were on top.

Fried as they were, Levon Helm, Richard Manuel, Rick Danko and Garth Hudson agreed. The Last Waltz, recorded at Bill Graham's Winterland Ballroom on Thanksgiving Day, November 25, 1976 was to have been The Bands swansong.

Director Martin Scorsese was there to capture the proceedings for posterity sake.

Inviting a number of friends and special guests, The Band turned in one of the, if not musically best, most emotionally charged rock 'n' roll concerts of all times. Bar none.

Don't believe me? Check out the tracklisting of this remastered and expanded version of the original double lp set.

Tracklist:

Disc 1
Theme From The Last Waltz (w/ Orchestra)
Up On Cripple Creek
The Shape I'm In
It Makes No Difference
Who Do You Love (w/ Ronnie Hawkins)
Life Is A Carnival
Such A Night (w/ Dr. John)
The Weight
Down South In New Orleans (w/ Bobby Charles)
This Wheel's On Fire
Mystery Train (w/ Paul Butterfield)
Caldonia (w/ Muddy Waters)
Mannish Boy (w/ Muddy Waters)
Stagefright

Disc: 2
Rag Mama Rag
All Our Past Times (w/ Eric Clapton)
Further On Up The Road (w/ Eric Clapton)
Ophelia
Helpless (w/ Neil Young)
Four Strong Winds (w/ Neil Young)
Coyote (w/ Joni Mitchell)
Shadows And Light (w/ Joni Mitchell)
Furry Sings The Blues (w/ Joni Mitchell)
Acadian Driftwood
Dry Your Eyes (w/ Neil Diamond)
The W.S. Walcott Medicine Show
Tura Lura Lural (That's An Irish Lullaby) (w/ Van Morrison)
Caravan (w/ Van Morrison)

Disc: 3
The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down
The Genetic Method/Chest Fever (Excerpt From Movie Soundtrack)
Baby Let Me Follow You Down (w/ Bob Dylan)
Hazel (w/ Bob Dylan)
I Don't Believe You (She Acts Like We Never Have Met) (w/ Bob Dylan)
Forever Young (w/ Bob Dylan)
Baby Let Me Follow You Down (Reprise) (w/ Bob Dylan)
I Shall Be Released (Finale)
Jam #1
Jam #2
Don't Do It
Greensleeves (From Movie Soundtrack)

Disc: 4
The Well
Evangeline (w/ Emmylou Harris)
Out Of The Blue
The Weight (w/ The Staples)
The Last Waltz Refrain
Theme From The Last Waltz
King Harvest (Has Surely Come)
Tura Lura Lural (That's An Irish Lullaby) (w/ Van Morrison)
Caravan (w/ Van Morrison)
Such A Night (w/ Dr. John)
Rag Mama Rag
Mad Waltz (Sketch Track For "The Well")
The Last Waltz Refrain (Instrumental Version)
The Last Waltz Theme (Sketch)

Welcome Back My Friends To The Show That Never Ends, Ladies and Gentlemen Emerson, Lake and Palmer - Emerson, Lake And Palmer

A litle bombast anyone? A little prog rock goodness? A little excentric noodling?

Emerson, Lake and Palmer were all that was good and all that was bad with the genre. But when they were good, they were very very good. Kind of like they were on this 1974 release. A rare triple LP recorded during their Brain Salad Surgery support tour, the tri-gatefold from the original release was Quite unlike anything we had ever seen.

Taking tracks liberally from their first four studio albums Welcome Back My Friends... offers up a blend of shorter rolicking tracks "Hoedown" (Trilogy) and "Jeremy Bender" (Tarkus)/The Sherif" (Trilogy) "Still... You Turn Me On" (Brain Salad Surgery) and "Lucky Man" (Emerson, Lake & Palmer). But the corner piece, the anchor of this set are the epic numbers, of which there are three. Tarkus is played here in it's 20 odd minute entirity. Take A Pebble from their debut release is performed in two parts. From it's unique opening string section (created by Keith Emerson dragging a pick down the length of the strings of a grand piano) it then incorporates the aforementioned Still... You Turn Me On and Lucky Man, as well as a Piano Improvisation section before wrapping up with the conclusion of Take A Pebble.

The highlight for me is when their new epic composition off the Brain Salad Surgery release closed off the set.

Karn Evil 9 was performed in three parts, in the studio and live. The First Impression itself was actually devided into two unique pieces. Most people don't even realize they have heard this song before but the "single" release from this album started off with those famous lyrics, encorporated in a fashion for the title of this disc.

"Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends, we're so glad you could attend, come inside, come inside."

Heard it, haven't you.

If you are feeling like a trip back to one of the original movers and shakers of progressive rock and roll, you need go no further than this live offering.

Tracklist:

Disc 1
Hoedown
Jerusalem
Toccata
Tarkus
Eruption
Stones Of Years
Iconoclast
Mass
Manticore
Battlefield
Aquatarkus
Take A Pebble incl. Still You Turn Me On and Lucky Man

Disc 2
Piano Improvisations incl. Friedrich Gulda's "Fugue" and Joe Sullivan's "Little Rock Getaway"
Take A Pebble (Conclusion)
Jeremy Bender / The Sherif
Karn Evil 9
1st Impression
2nd Impression
3rd Impression

Plays Live - Peter Gabriel

In the summer of 1983 I got my first job in computers after graduating from the Honeywell Institute for Continuing Studies. It was with a company called Microplace. The whole idea behind Microplace was to train people, well, kids mostly, about the joys of computers and what it was exactly that you could do with said computers.

Being as it was 1983, the computer of choice was the Commodore 64; mocked now I'm sure but at the time the C64 was well ahead of it's time in computing power, multi voice sound and, for the era, cutting edge graphics.

As happens so often, the owners of Microplace opened up far to many locations from the get go. Those centered around larger populations like the one in Oshawa at Camp Samac flourished. Those centered in far flung regions, such as the one that I was originally assigned to in Peterborough... well, not so much so.

While making the daily hour long trek (give or take) up Highway 35/115 from Oshawa to Peterborough, I discovered and fell madly in love with a tape of Peter Gabriel Plays Live. That tape became the soundtrack of my life that summer. At the time it was quite unlike anything else that I had ever heard. Gabriel, the erstwhile former lead singer for Genesis, was now behind four solo albums; Peter Gabriel (Car), Peter Gabriel (Scratch), Peter Gabriel (Melt) and Security (sorry, not Peter Gabriel by this point) and obviously felt the need to express himself in a live context.

And what a context it was. Starting off with his hypnotic drum intro for The Rythm Of The Heat and ending with the haunting strains of his gut wrenching ode to the memory of noted anti-aparthied activist Stephen Bantu Biko the entire concert tape struck a chord so deep within me that it still reverberates in my soul to this very day.

Mellodramatic? Maybe... Hell, probably... but that dosen't diminish in the least, the fact that it is true. Peter Gabriel Plays Live is, for me if for no one else, one of those rare and special musical experiences that can best be described as a religious experience.

Check it out, I beg of you. It might just etch itself upon your psyche as deeply as it has mine.

If it dosen't, I none the less promise you that it will be a musical journey well worth your time.

Tracklist

Disc 1
The Rythm Of The Heat
I Have The Touch
Not One Of Us
Family Snapshot
D.I.Y.
The Family And The Fishing Net
Intruder
I Go Swimming

Disc 2
San Jacinto
Solsbury Hill
No Self-Control
I Don't Remember
Shock The Monkey
Humdrum
On The Air
Biko

Pack Up The Plantation Live! - Tom Petty And The Heartbreakers

Right. Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. I've always been a bit of an on again, off again Tom Petty fan. At times he can be so unique, so, if not cutting edge, certainly honing the edge. Then again, at times he can be so lame, so contrived, so predictable.

The live set Pack Up The Plantation was recorded primarily at the Wiltern Theatre, Los Angeles in 1985 with a handful of exceptions as noted below.

Fantastic takes on The Byrds "So you Wanna be A Rock 'n' Roll Star", The Searchers "Needles And Pins", The Animals "Don't Bring Me Down" and The Isley Brothers "Shout". Coupled with live versions of TP&tHb "Breakdown", "The Waiting", "American Girl" and "Refugee".

Southern fried rock at it's best.

Tracklist:

So You Wanna Be A Rock & Roll Star
Needles And Pins
The Waiting
Breakdown
American Girl
It Ain't Nothin' To Me
Insider
Rockin' Around (With You)
Refugee
Southern Accents
Rebels
Don't Bring Me Down
Shout
The Stories We Could Tell

Frampton Comes Alive - Peter Frampton

One thing that I love about all these remasters and deluxe editions of CD's that seem to be quite prevalent these days is the oppertunity they afford the powers that be to "do it up right". For proof possitive of this suposition look no further than the Deluxe Edition treatment afforded the quintessential live album "Frampton Comes Alive" (or as we used to like calling it when in my youth, "Frampton Comes All Over The Place").

The original album has not only been expanded with additional tracks not included in it's initial release, but all the songs have been rearranged and put back into the original running order of the concert itself.

Contrary to some folks belief artists don't just throw a wack of songs together and hope that something sticks. Setlists are a living breathing thing. Even if the exact same songs are played night in and night out they may not always be played in the same order. An artist tweaks here, adjusts there, until the entire concert experience is honed to a place that said artist wants it to be.

As much as I loved the original release, the running order afforded by this deluxe release makes much more sence to me sonically.

Frampton Comes Alive always has been and always will be right there with my favorite legitametly released live albums.

Tracklist:

Disc 1
Introduction/Somethings Happening
Doobie Wah
Lines On My Face
Show Me The Way
It's A Plain Shame
Wind Of Change
Just The Time Of The Year
Penny For Your Thoughts
All I Want To Be (Is By Your Side)
Baby, I Love Your Way

Disc 2
Nowhere's Too Far For My Baby
(I'll Give You) Money
Do You Feel Like We Do
Shine On
White Sugar
Jumping Jack Flash
Days Dawning

Crossroads 2: Live In The Seventies - Eric Clapton

What can you say about god. That would be god with a small "g" for all you keeping track at home. Clapton cut his teeth in such bands as The Yardbirds, John Mayall & The Bluesbreakers, the first supergroup Cream, the second supergroup Blind Faith, Delaney and Bonnie and Friends before finally winding up as the titular Derek in Derek and the Dominos.

After mediocre reviews for the album and a tour which degenerated into a haze of drug and alcohol abuse (despite rave reviews and an incredible live album Live at the Fillmore) Eric went into a prolonged period of self impossed seclusion.

It wasn't until early 1973 when close friend and fellow guitar hero Pete Townsend of The Who fame organized a coming out party of sorts for Eric at the London Rainbow Theatre. Townsend put together a group of stellar musicians to act as Clapton's backup band. Clapton, Townsend and Ron Wood (Traffic, Rod Stewart, The Rolling Stones) on guitar, Ric Grech (Blind Faith) on bass guitar, Steve Winwood (Traffic, Blind Faith) on keyboards and vocals, Jim Capaldi (Traffic) on drums, Jimmy Karstein on drums and Rebop Kwaku Baah (Traffic) on percussion.

They produced a killer live album called Eric Clapton's Rainbow Concert. Following this coming out (again) party Clapton started a solo career which has never stopped since.

This four disc set is culled from a variety of concerts played during Clapton's early solo days, anywhere from July 20th 1974 at Long Beach Arena in southern California through to November 28th, 1978 at the Victoria Hall, Hanley with four studio tracks thrown in for good measure.

I knew that I was going to love this set while I listened to it for the very first time. During The Sky Is Crying / Have You Ever Loved A Woman / Rambling On My Mind you can hear Eric calling out chord changes to his band mates, just as though he was teaching the song to his buddies in a rehersal hall somewhere. To me that captured a certain purity to live music.

You can almost sense Clapton thinking to himself "this is fun, let's try this..." and calling an audible to his bandmates.

If that was the only thing that I liked about this release, for me, it would be sufficient. The fact that the rest of the music just rocks your world is a decided bonus.

And if you can't believe in 'g'od, then who can you believe in?

Tracklist:

Disc 1
Walkin' Down The Road
Have You Ever Loved A Woman
Willie And The Hand Jive/Get Ready
Can't Find My Way Home
Driftin' Blues/Rambling On My Mind
Presence Of The Lord
Rambling On My Mind/Have You Ever Loved A Woman
Little Wing
The Sky Is Crying/Have You Ever Loved A Woman/Rambling On My Mind

Disc 2
Layla
Further On Up The Road
I Shot The Sherrif
Badge
Driftin' Blues
Eyesight To The Blind/Why Does Love Got To Be So Sad

Dics 3
Tell The Truth
Knockin On Heaven's Door
Stormy Monday
Lay Down Sally
The Core
We're All The Way
Cocaine
Goin' Down Slow/Rambling On My Mind
Mean Old Frisco Blues

Disc 4
Loving You (Is Sweeter Than Ever)
Worried Life Blues
Tulsa Time
Early In The Morning
Wonderful Tonight
Kind Hearted Woman
Double Trouble
Crossroads
To Make Somebody Happy
Cryin'
Water On The Ground

Here And There - Elton John

I think that I mentioned somewhere in my book Not Only Am I With The Band... that my first true musical love was Elton John. I think that I also mentioned somewhere in that tome that Elton John was my introduction to bootleg recordings.

Given the fact that I am now enraptured with live recordings, that first introduction must well have made an impression.

Elton's first legitamitly released live album was 11-17-70. As his popularity grew the fact that there would be a second live release was a no brainer.

Here And There is that second release. Recorded at two venues (Here being the Royal Festival Hall in London, England, There being Madison Square Garden in New York City) it captured two very different kinds of shows.

Here was recorded before a rather staid audience in London, when Elton and band put on a basic history of his career, starting out solo on the piano for Skyline Pigeon, switching to the late great Dee Murray on Bass guitar and vocals and his long time (and still current) drummer Nigel Olssen for the next three tracks.

A duet with Leslie Duncan on "Love Song" marked the first time (at the time) that Elton had written a song with anyone else other than Bernie Taupin, let alone done a duet with.

Davey Johnstone (guitar and vocals) and Ray Cooper (percussion) rounded out the band for the remained of the show.

In contrast, Elton and his full touring band let their hair down and cut loose on the Thanksgiving Day concert at Madison Square Garden. I love this part due in no small part to the inclusion of rarely if ever played anymore songs Grey Seal and You're So Static.

More importantly this night in NYC Elton had a guest star come up and sit in on three songs with him and the band. He had recorded a song with this guest and, on a whim, bet said guest that if the song they had just recorded ever went to number one that this guest would have to join Elton onstage.

The song was Whatever Get's You Through The Night. The song did go to number one. So, on this Thanksgiving concert the guest, one John Lennon, joined Elton and his band on stage to run through their hit song, Lucy In the Sky With Diamonds and I Saw Her Standing There.

John Lennnon was terrified but still managed to go through with his end of the bargain.

Introducing the final number Lennon said I'd like to thank Elton and the boys for having me on tonight. We tried to think of a number to finish off with so I can get out of here and be sick. And we thought we'd do a number of an old estranged fiancee of mine called Paul. This is one I never sang; it's an old Beatle number and we just about know it.

As it turned out, this was to be Lennon's last live public performance.

As far as I'm concerned, that is reason enough to grab this disc.

Tracklist

Here
Disc 1
Skyline Pigeon
Border Song
Take Me To The Pilot
Country Comfort
Love Song
Bad Side Of The Moon
Burn Down The Mission
Honky Cat
Crocodile Rock
Candle In The Wind
Your Song
Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting

There
Disc 2
Funeral For A Friend
Love Lies Bleeding
Rocket Man (I Think It's Going To Be A Long Long Time)
Take Me To The Pilot
Bennie And The Jets
Grey Seal
Daniel
You're So Static
Whatever Get's You Through The Night
Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds
I Saw Here Standing There
Don't Let The Sun Go Down On Me
Your Song
The Bitch Is Back

Get You Ya Yas Out - The Rolling Stones

Over the years The Rolling Stones have released more than their fair share of live offerings. From 1966's Got Live If You Want It,through Love You Live, Still Life, Flashpoint, Stripped, The Rolling Stones Rock and Roll Circus, No Security, Live Licks right up to their most recent offering Shine A Light.

While a number of those releases have their merits, there is far to many lost oppertunities on the bands part to release a definitive live recording. The closest they ever came was on their 1970 release Get Your Ya Yas Out, recorded over two days and three shows (one on the 27th and two on the 28th) at New York City's Madison Square Gardens in November of 1969.

These recordings were made a mere eight days before the infamous Altmount Free Concert at the Altmount Motor Speedway in Livermore California. And we all know how that ended, don't we.

After having been off the road for the best part of three years The Stones found themselves in a situation where they could actually be heard. No longer were bands playing to packed houses just off the output from their individual amplifiers. Bands could now tour with their own custom made sound system and all in attendance could hear them. Coupled with the fact that audiences were now more content to sit and listen to the music being played for them rather than screaming their heads off all the way through the show The Stones found themselves in unfamiliar but invigorating territory.

The playing on the album is universaly great. Jagger is in fine voice, Keith Richards pulls off licks the way only he can and new addition Mick Taylor played the type of lead guitar that helped define the Stones sound during this period.

However, the term "live" should be taken with a small grain of salt when talking about this release. The amount of studio sweetening has been kept to a minimum, but songs and in between banter have been pieced together from best sources and the likes.

Does this detract? Listen to the blistering guitar solos in Sympathy For The Devil, or the intensity of Midnight Rambler and ask me that question again. This coupled with the excellent documentary Gimme Shelter shot by Maysles brothers Albert and David of the 1969 North American tour stand as one of the best documented rock 'n' roll tours in history.

And now, with this the album's 40th anniversary release, the album is returned to the concept which Mick Jagger originally had in mind when it was first set loose upon an unsuspecting public. Conceived as a double album with opening acts BB King and Ike and Tina Turner's sets comprising the first album and The Stones set comprising the second, it has taken until now to finally realize this vision.

An additional CD contains five tracks not released on the original, rounded the set out to the bands full set.

An additional DVD presents video for those five songs which make a perfect companion piece to the Maysles Brothers excellent documentary, Gimme Shelter. If ever there was a doubt that, once upon a time anyway, The Rolling Stones were The World's Greatest Rock and Roll Band, then this anniversary edtion should lay them to waste.

For more great information on The Stones and this seminal release then check out this wonderful website Revelations On The Rolling Stones.

Tracklist

Disc 1
Jumpin' Jack Flash
Carol
Stray Cat Blues
Love In Vain
Midnight Rambler
Sympathy For The Devil
Live With Me
Little Queenie
Honky Tonk Women
Street Fighting Man

Disc 2
Prodigal Son
You Gotta Move
Under My Thumb
I'm Free
(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction

Disc 3
Everyday I Have The Blues (B.B. King)
How Blue Can You Get (B.B. King)
That's Wrong Little Mama (B.B. King)
Why I Sing The Blues (B.B. King)
Please Accept My Love (B.B. King)

Gimme Some Loving (Ike and Tina Turner)
Sweet Soul Music (Ike and Tina Turner)
Son Of A Preacher Man (Ike and Tina Turner)
Proud Mary (Ike and Tina Turner)
I've Been Loving You To Long (Ike and Tina Tuner)
Come Together (Ike and Tina Turner)
Land Of 1,000 Dances (Ike and Tina Turner)

Disc 4 (DVD)
Prodigal Son
You Gotta Move
Under My Thumb
I'm Free
(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction
Backstage footage (shot by Albert and David Maysles) with in-studio footage from album cover shoot

2009-03-20T14:44:00.011-05:00

As you may or may not be aware, I am currently working on my second book. This time, it isn't quite as autobiographical as my first, Not Only Am I With The Band... I should hope not considering the fact that it deals with a serial killer. Yep, and we aren't talking Dexter here folks. Cold, calculating, quite insane... fun stuff, nes't pas?

Which isn't to say that there isn't some of me and my experiences in this new novel; how could that ever be. Authors of fiction that say there is not some semblance of themselves, their experiences in their novels is lying. It is all just a matter of degrees. Sometimes there is alot of the author in the work, sometimes not so much so.

In the case of Dire Tides (catchy title, eh?) there are a number of elements from past experiences included. Rhonda and I met and honeymooned on Cape Cod the locale for most of this book. We spent a goodly number of hours in Provincetown ; the specific locale for most of this book. On holiday on the Cape I sang karaoke at the Governor Bradford in downtown P'Town which does in fact have karaoke seven days a week ("Drag Karaoke" no less).

The characters that frequent the karaoke bar at the Gov'nor are based in any number of ways on the real life people that I sing with on a weekly basis; on shared experiences (thank you Alina, I forgot all about the paper clip progression but you can bet your ass it is going to be integrated into the novel).

This is a work in progress folks. I have set myself a deadline for the end of May to have the first draft of this puppy all wrapped up. No deadlines from editors or publishers mind. Just something that I can shoot for. The amount of editing and draft revisions required afterwards are a black hole for me at the moment. With my first novel my editor said there weren't alot of edits required outside of grammer, spelling and some small breaches of continuety. But then again I had spent the better part of two years writing, reviewing and editing it before it ever reached his inbox.

Considering the fact that my first book was based in large part on personal experience, the task of writing a novel "from scratch" has been challenging; but in a fun and completely infecious way. I'm having a blast folks. I will continue to provide occasional updates and samples here as I believe are warrented.

If you are on Facebook, please come join my group there; http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/group.php?gid=53141012680&ref=ts. While there you might consider joining my group for Not Only Am I With The Band... at http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/group.php?gid=26129315315&ref=ts. Either way, please stay tuned. Here is a little taste, the first chapter of Dire Tides in it's current form. Hope you enjoy... comments most definately welcomed.

Chapter 1

Oh shit, it was dark. And damp. It was bloody damp. Brady could feel the sweat pouring off his scalp and down the neck of his tattered and stained shirt. Even if his hands were not currently trussed up behind his back, Brady sincerely doubted he would be able to see his hand right in front of his own face. Still he got the impression that the walls were ominously narrow; the ceiling unforgiving and low.

“A breath,” Brady’s mind capered, “Just take a breath. Slow and steady. Count to ten. Do anything that it might take to get me the hell out of this situation.”

But that didn’t seem to help at all. The ceiling still felt as though its raison d’être was to slowly squash the life out of him. Why was he still here? Why couldn’t he see? Why had no one missed him and come looking?

“I always thought Karaoke was perfectly safe,” he croaked out loud and chuckled.

“Guess I did one too many Bob Dylan songs,” his mind babbled.

He tried hard to focus on where he was. He tried to open his eyes but they seemed stuck shut.

He tried to settle his racing heart the better to hear ambient sound.

Listening, Brady could hear waves lapping against a wall somewhere very nearby. The rope by which he was trussed up squeaked in a gentle rhythm; swaying him gently back and forth. The lack of any other sounds forced him to the realization that no one would be around to hear his dying screams. He rightly concluded that he was on the waves; but too what end...

Just as he was contemplating these things Brady became aware that he was not alone.

“Hello,” he enquired.

A whimper greeted his entreaties.

“Who is that,” he hissed fervently.

Still no response; save another whimper.

“Do you know where we are?”

Silence.

“For God sake man,” he bellowed, “speak up!”

The volume of his own voice startled him into silence.

The air hung hot and humid all around. After the roar of his own blood subsided from his ears

Brady screwed up his courage enough to try and make contact yet again. Hanging there he had heard the occasional whimper coming from his unseen companion, the gentle lap of waves against the walls of the room which he was in and, worse, the sound of tiny feet scurrying around below him.

Actually, the approaching sound of heavy footsteps was worse. Brady was just ready to yell out when some primeval voice hissed for him to remain quiet. In this world of utter darkness how was one to tell friends from foes.

So he waited; waited and listened.

The footsteps grew inexorably closer. The perpetrator of these steps was in no hurry; savouring each and every footfall. Suddenly, the steps stopped; the ensuing silence unbearable.

Brady’s companion whimpered miserably.

“Shut up,” he hissed, “do you want them to hear us?”

From off to his right a low chuckle started, cutting through the darkness like a low voltage current through a sock full of marbles. The chuckle continued for a minute or two, playing counter point to the pathetic simpering of the unseen other.

“Ah yes, the new one.”

The voice; equally soothing and menacing, cold as a long abandoned graveyard at midnight, nearly ripped a scream from Brady’s throat. His roommate had no such self restraint.

“Now Leo,” this new voice reprimanded, “you are making Brady here uncomfortable.”

Upon hearing his own name Brady recoiled as though physically struck.

But at this rebuke Leo did shut up. Not even a whimper.

“There now, that’s much better. Isn’t that better Brady?”

Brady remained quiet, paralyzed with a terror as old as time itself.

“Yes? No? No worries, we will have plenty of time to get better acquainted later. In the meantime, you don’t mind if Leo and I play some more?”

At this Leo started to scream again. And when Leo’s voice finally gave out, Brady could hear the insistent chuckles, punctuated by the sound of ripping and of wet things hitting the floor with a sickening plop.Then the screaming started once more. It took Brady a couple of minutes to realize that, this time, it was him doing the screaming

2009-03-04T14:14:00.002-05:00

Have you ever been depressed? And I don't mean feeling blue because you had a bad day at work kind of depressed.

Have you ever been diagnosed as being severely depressed? By an actual practising physician no less.

If you haven’t, all I can say is keep up the good work. You may now go back to your regularly scheduled web surfing activities.

Last year, 2008, should have been one of the happiest years of my life. I celebrated my 23rd wedding anniversary, had a good job, had any number of very dear friends, and had a wonderful vacation just outside of Estes Park, Colorado. What more could a body hope for?

Oh yeah, my first book had been published to excellent reviews... So why shouldn’t I be as happy as a hive of bees with a whole field of flowers. (I bet you thought I was going to say as happy as a pig in shit, didn’t you?)

I should have been, if not on top of the world, at least on top of my world.

But depression doesn’t work like that. Depression for me is like being buried under 100 feet of cold tapioca pudding. Have I mentioned that I hate tapioca pudding, warm or not? Being depressed is like being buried deeply under sludge like material, in a place where you can see nothing but blackness around you and not be able to move side to side let alone worry about just how far up it is that you have to travel before your head can break the surface.

Depression is one of those terrible diseases where you know, instinctually if no other way, pretty much what it is that you need to do to find a cure but have a brutally hard time trying to follow your own advice.

Friends and loved ones of someone who is depressed are in a very tenuous position. They want to help but have no idea exactly how it is that they can do so. Telling a depressed person that they need to exercise, get out into the community more, get some focus in their life, take up an old hobby... just about anything really doesn’t work, despite the good intentions. But for people who are depressed, well, o.k., for me anyways that was one of the worst things.

Being told about all the stuff that I should be doing, stuff that I pretty much knew that I should be doing, only served to remind me of the fact that I was unable to do so. After a while, my own realizations of my failures coupled with the reminders of those who loved me were devastating. I dreaded my wife Rhonda's return from work and the inevitable question about what I did that day. Some days, as I started attempting to draw back from the abyss I actually did accomplish things. On those days I was only too happy to share my accomplishments with her.

Hello dear, I did the dishes, cleaned the litter box, spent time trying to straighten the storage room out and I even managed to get out of bed before noon. All the while I felt like an over zealous Cocker Spaniel pup trying to earn his next dog biscuit.

But the days that I just couldn't rouse myself to do anything? They just tore my soul apart. Another day that had slipped by without me making any kind of progress; the disappointment that I felt in myself; the fear I had for having to admit as much to the person that I loved. Even when Rhonda was supportive, as she mostly was, on the days when I accomplished a big fat goose egg, her eyes belied the pain; the disappointment that she felt.

And, in a very real way the disappointment that I felt in myself, for whatever reason, seems to have been the key to the length of my depression.

During this lost period my folks moved from their home of 40+ years into a 1,000 square foot apartment. It was time. My Father had well and truly shovelled more than his fair share of driveways over the years and my Mother had tended to their Home and Garden worthy backyard lovingly long enough that they were both due a respite.

As is usually the case when someone is moving, my folks had to unload some of their flotsam and jetsam. Forty years worth of ballast to be sure; and their first instinct was to give that which they felt strongly about but knew that they could not hold on to, to people they knew would appreciate those self same things.

A couch, two recliners (one of them a rocker), a rocking chair and a WONDERFULL hardwood kitchen table later Rhonda and I had been truly blessed. But there were the small things, those things that are the threads that tie a lifetime together.

My Mother, as many mothers do, kept all of my report cards. Why? As best as I can figure, because she was my mother.

We all grow up differently, don’t we; with pros along one avenue and cons along another. Those pros and cons go a long way towards defining who it is that we are going to eventually become.

I never truly had any real focused vision of myself as a youngster; only what it is that I heard and what it is that I wanted to hear. I never believed myself to be a diminutive Einstein, Descartes, or Solzhenitsyn.

One of the things that my folks bestowed upon me for which I shall be forever grateful, were my report cards, all the way from Kindergarten right the way through Junior High.

For whatever reason I had come to believe that every shortcoming in my person, my actions, and my soul were a direct affront to all the promise that I had showed in my early years. After all, I had been a genius growing up, under appreciated, unsung, hadn’t I?

As it turns out, not so much so.

I have been blessed with two of the best parents that anyone could ever possibly hope to be blessed with. They supported me at the right times, chastised me at the right times (but never, EVER to harshly). I fell DEEPLY in love with music and they went along with it. I decided to pursue Journalism as a career; and they supported it. I decided that Journalism had run its course (more for health reason than actual intellectual reasons) and they supported it.

After a while it became easier to see myself through their eyes rather than the cold, discerning eyes of those who are well and truly impartial.

Reading through my report cards from kindergarten onward I came to recognize those things in myself now which were, apparently, self evident way back when. Creative, good with words, imaginative, not so good with mathematics, not so good with practical science, even though he understands the theory. Loves music; loves theatre; loves all the artistic disciplines to the eternal detriment of all the practical ones.

Having read those reports, semester after semester, year after year had a profound effect on me. Any self loathing or disappointment that I had ever had for myself was, to a very large extent, self defeating. As surprising as it may be, today, as I sit here, I am pretty much the person that my grades kindergarten through grade six teachers originally had pegged me to be.

How fucked up is that.

But it has been a very liberating experience. Flagellating myself for ideals that would always and forever be outside my ability to reach are well and truly dead.

That I am a flawed human being has never escaped me. Hell, it has never even bothered me. To think of one self perfect and pristine is the worst kind of “sin”.

To my eternal shame I have managed over the past year to loose track of certain people who, always were well and truly worthy of being deemed friends. Stef, I love you my friend. Congrats to you and Christina on the birth of your first born. I know and truly appreciate what that must mean to you after all your trials and tribulations.

Depression is real, and it is as debilitating as any virulent disease, if not quite as terminal as some. Fortunately I managed to avoid the razor blades.

I'm not sure if my head has broken the surface yet, but I can certainly see the light.

And for today, that is just fine.

2008-10-01T13:01:00.004-05:00

My first book. I am very proud of this work and have received a number of good reviews. Witness;

This is one of those rare books that can take the reader through memory lane at the same time as treating them to wonderful new experiences. The story is excellent; very well written, with a good mix of the narrative and dialogue between some very good characters, whilst managing to sound both informal and intelligent.
Stephen writes so naturally and fluently; he easily changes mood and pace, his humour shines through and lightens the darker moments, but not in a way that is detrimental to the poignant moment. Very well done indeed.

- Mark - Angel Editing

Reading this book brought back fond memories of my own teenage years. The days when the freedom of having too much time on your hands was a way of life, and all the trouble that can lead to. The story of a life centered on a love of music, with all the friendships and life lessons one learns along the way.

- Steve Barrett

A truly thought provoking book for anyone who came of age in the 1970's. It brought back many memories of people & events in my own life, that I hadn't thought about for many years. A worth while read.

- Rob Patterson

What a fantastic read! A real page turner. I couldn't help remembering all the special times way back when while reading this book! Thank you, Mr. Greenaway, for one of the best 24 hours I have had between the pages of a book!

Hope there is a sequel!!!!!

- Marj Barton

What a great read. I thoughly enjoyed the entire book, and found myself recalling some of my earlier years and experiences. Great job, can't wait for the next book.

- Burt Bogue

Wonerful praise to be sure... and believe me when I tell you I am thrilled with all of it. I tried to write a book that I myself enjoyed, and it seems I was able to find kindred spirits.

Here is a breif synopsis:

What happens when a young man from a middle class family is introduced to the world of sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll? If you came of age in the 70's then you may well have lived a similar childhood. If you didn't then consider this an archeological remnant from the past. Where do love and sex collide? When do the drugs stop mattering quite as much? And Rock 'n' Roll. When should that cease to matter? Follow the exploits of Stephen, a young man coming of age in a small bedroom community for a large North American city. Then... imagine if you had access to most everything your teenage lust might desire...

If you would like to read a sample, here is the first chapter:

Chapter 1: Editor’s pick for disease of the month: The Bubonic Plague

You know that you are living the rock and roll lifestyle when someone offers a small block of hashish to you as payment for services rendered… and you accept it.

---------------------------------------------

The residents of Wiarton had two oddities descend upon them that weekend when The Hash Puppies pulled into town; a rock and roll band and a stripper. Now for those of you who have never been to Wiarton, it is a small sleepy burg which clings to the shores of Colpoy’s Bay inlet on Georgian Bay in Northern Ontario whose main claim to fame is Wiarton Willie. That’s the Canadian equivalent to Punxsutawney Phil. You know, that mangy rat that comes out of the earth every spring only to turn tail and disappear back into his hole leaving us with another eight weeks of winter.

The weekend started out inauspiciously enough with yours truly picking up the lead guitarist / vocalist and his girlfriend in my old metallic blue Datsun B210 hatchback. Eric and Christie; Christie and Eric; soon to be husband and wife; but I’ll get to that. Soon to be ex-husband and wife; but I’ll get to that as well.

Eric was a handsome specimen of masculinity… with a very androgynous persona. He was mid height, call it 5 foot 8. Curly black hair, wiry physique, well toned muscles… and a completely infectious grin. Man he was a goof, but a completely loveable goof. And man, could he play that guitar. He was always in great shape; despite the fact that his lifestyle dictated he should have no reason to be so.

On the other hand Christie, or Chris as her friends called her, was kind of stocky, red haired (which probably should have told Eric something) and completely manic, with breasts that could have seen a boy right the way through puberty. She was a mass of contradictions. One minute a real party animal and the next a complete party pooper. Sort of made your head spin to try and keep up. I never knew how she and Eric met. One day he just sort of showed up with her in tow.

“You know where we are going, right?”

“Relax Stephen” says Eric to me. “He’s so serious” says Eric to Chris.

“Eric, I need to know where we are fucking going!!”

“Here, let me spark up a doob…”

In those days, that made everything right. Now I am older and wiser. I know that it really doesn’t make everything right. But I’ll be damned if it doesn’t give you that illusion…

Needless to say we got lost. Not badly so. Not irreparably so. But lost is lost, especially when the band is due to be on stage at 9:00 PM, it is currently 8:00 PM and you have just got your bearings enough to realize that you are still two hours away from where you need to be one hour hence.

So what do you do? Why smoke some more dope of course. Didn’t get us any closer to our destination, but…

By this time my poor old Datsun was starting to make peculiar noises. You know, very un-car like noises. Ugly noises. Noises one can imagine a badly winded pony might make while carrying a pre-weight loss Richard Simmons up an extraordinarily steep hill. Death rattle sort of noises.

Well, two hours turned out to be closer to two and a half by the time we pulled into the parking lot of the Churchill hotel only to find a man standing nearby taking a leak on the front tire of an old grey beater Chevy pickup truck. Eric grabbed his overnight bag and guitar case, I grabbed my duffel and the amplifier and Christie grabbed the dope. Let me just say at this point that pot sort of messes with your sense of time. The fact that we might have just made a group of customers wait an hour and a half didn’t really perturb us too much. I mean, we did get there and we would just play later to make good. No biggie. And besides, the Stones, in their heyday, would sometimes make their audience wait upwards of four hours before they would take the stage. And they were already in the fucking building. It’s all good. All’s fair in rock ‘n’ roll.

When we walked in through the back door of the place we were suddenly forced to re-think our initial assessment of the situation…

Did I mention that the entertainment prospects in Wiarton were somewhat limited? As we would learn over the course of the weekend there were three bars in the town and three local acts (who played two types of music… country AND western) that rotated around those three bars on a weekly basis. New talent was somewhat of a rarity and, apparently, warranted considerable attention.

As such, when we came through the stage door we were confronted with the not to inconsiderable sight of eighty or so people, evenly split between Indians from the nearby reservation and Satan’s Choice from the local chapter. Many of the Choice wore a red bandana, which means they had either gone down on their old lady while she was on the rag or they had killed someone. Either way, I didn’t want to get on their bad side.

The whole assorted lot of them was pretty tanked by this point, not to mention pretty belligerent. Fortunately Ian and Roger had been there for quite some time and had all the gear set up, save Eric’s guitar amp. At least they hadn’t waited until Eric had shown up to break out their kit.

“Where the fuck have you been?!?!”

Ian, The Hash Puppies drummer; was a big blonde bear of a man who was usually quite loveable. That is, except when the coke was coursing through his veins and he was starting to peak. Starting to peak while not on stage yet; that just boiled down to bad timing.

Rock music and pharmaceuticals walk a very fine line together. Take a drug to soon, peak too early and give a sluggish performance. Take a drug to late, peak later than you intended and give a tentative performance. At this point Ian was pretty much drum solo intensity and he hadn’t even laid stick to skin yet.

“Right… all set” said Eric, completely non-plussed by Ian’s obvious disconcertion… “Let’s rock and roll”.

Roger, The Hash Puppies bass player was Bill Wyman incarnate. Black hair, new wave meets punk look; frenetically laid back. “Let’s play some tunes”.

Eric, Ian and Roger took their places on stage. I took mine behind the light mixer; Christie found Roger’s brother, Alan, in the crowd and ordered a drink.

This was rock and roll, folks.

The lights went down and the crowd was waiting like a pack of hungry wolves sensing that you only have another click or two left in you before you succumb to the cold. A final snort, the drumsticks rise before beating out a tattoo on the snare drum. The lights blaze, the guitar roars…

“Been a long time since I’ve rock and rolled, woman…”

The lights pulsed. The band was rocking. My back was to the crowd. Did I mention that the crowd was fairly belligerent?

Rock and Roll ended and the crowd responded with a guttural sound presaging a kind of anticipation. Whether this was of a good time to come or the prospect of disemboweling the hapless newcomers wasn’t quite clear.

Next up was J. J. Cale’s great song made classic by none other than god himself.

“She don’t lie, she don’t lie, she don’t lie… Cocaine.”

Listening to a band rehearse is a rare treat, especially when they are good and you love the music that they play. But watching a band play the music that they love live is taking it to a completely different level. The band was definitely on that night.

After Cocaine the crowd became a little bit more focused in their enthusiasm.

“Play War Pigs”

“Play Paranoid”

“Play Dazed and Confused”

The band swung into Roger’s first vocal excursion of the evening; Suffragette City by Bowie.

I hazarded a glance behind me. Drinks were flowing; bottles were taping in time to the music. Smiles were starting to appear. The vibe that had started out so ominously was now turning a corner. The band could feel it. The music was re-invigorated. Ian was peaking. Madison Square Garden was beckoning.

The response was gratifying after Roger’s tune finished. The requests started up again.

I had to smile. At a time when the best you could hear at most bars was lackadaisical covers of top 40 tripe, this crowd was calling for all the stuff that was The Hash Puppies stock in trade. Eric called Roger over to the drum riser and a brief discussion that I could imagine as readily as if I had been on stage with them ensued.

“Waddya think” asked Eric.

“What the fuck” replied Ian and Roger.

And just like that the set list became an all request evening. To their credit they never missed a one. Once the Choice realized these skinny white guys knew Zeppelin, Sabbath and the Stones like the back of their hand, everything for the rest of the weekend fell right into place. The band had won them over.

At one point during War Pigs a heavy hand fell on my shoulder. The lights on stage went dark for a moment until I regained my composure. When I turned to see who the hand belonged to I was confronted by this big mother fucking mountain of a man done up in Satan’s Choice regalia; including the red bandana. He wasn’t smiling. I could almost read my obituary.

“You guys are fucking awesome… whadyaalldrinking…”

It was hardly the legendary Stones Touring Party of 1972 but it was still pretty sweet. For the rest of the weekend we were well taken care of.

If you would like to buy a copy, you can do so at the following spots:

http://www.lulu.com/content/2593662
http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewwork.asp?id=28497

Or let me know personally... I always have copies on hand and can even personalize / sign them for you.

2007-05-07T11:50:00.000-05:00

So You Want To Photograph Concerts, Do You?

Step into my darkroom said the spider to the fly.

Is there anything in this life quite as satisfying as being able to photograph your favorite act live in concert? Well, I suppose there is sex... so, is there anything in this life quite as satisfying as sex and being able to photograph your favorite act live in concert? True, I imagine being rich could be pretty satisfying. So, is there anything in this life quite as satisfying as sex, being rich and photographing your favorite act live in concert?

Fine, being rich and having sex while photographing your favorite act live in concert then.

This isn't going quite the way I imagined it would.

Let's just say, for sake of argument, that there is nothing more satisfying in this life as photographing your favorite act live in concert.

The Cameras the Thing

Back in the day it was easy to photograph your favorite act. Just pack up your handy dandy gadget bag, procure a ticket to the show, stock up on film and get yourself to the gig. Intoxicants optional. So long as you weren't trying to smuggle anything into the concert in your gadget bag you were good to go.

These days it has become more difficult, but not impossible to bring a camera to a show. If you try to waltz in with a professional looking camera (read SLR either 35mm or digital) then you had best have a photo pass. But with the proliferation of cell phone cameras the rules have become a little more lax. While disposable cameras and point and shoot digital cameras are technically still not allowed, secutrity at most venues will turn a blind eye if you try to bring one in. Their only other option is to confiscate a shit load of digital camera equipped cell phones.

So now you have managed to get your camera into the concert. What now. Several things come into the equation. Some of these are under your control, some of them not so much so.

ISO That A Tripod In Your Pocket Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

I'm not going to get into the details of ISO other than to say it is a universal designation for a film's sensitivity to light. If you are real old school then you may remember it as ASA. While the designation originally applied to film there is an ISO setting on most digital cameras, approximating in the digital domain the camera's sensitivity to light.

The higher the ISO the less light you require to capture an image. But there's a trade off, both in the film and digital realm. The higher the ISO the grainier the image will be. Degrees of detail is sacrificed in exchange for capturing the image.

I suggest a minimum of 400 ISO, shot with the lens wide open (using the smallest f-stop you can). Unless you have a spot metre I don't suggest, under any circustances, that you attempt to use your light metre. That way disaster lays. The very first concert which I shot with a 35mm SLR was the Tubes at Maple Leaf Gardens in 1978. I didn't know any better so I let my light metre dictate shutter speed and aperature.

Some of the shots turned out alright. Some of them actually took on slightly sureal blurring flourishes which I could not have planned for. But if the light was in the slightest bit dodgy at all on stage then the pictures just plain didn't come out. The problem is that while the person you are shooting maybe sufficiently lit there may be a whole wack of black in the image which throws any light metre worth its salt to hell and gone. In this picture, if I had let the old light metre walk this way then Joe Perry's jacket would have been a white lit pale pink instead of the yellow lit red that wound up in the picture. The background would have been grey and any details in the fans would have been washed out.

Google 18% grey to read a little more about what it is that your light metre would have you do with every single photograph that you take.

So, you give the light metre a pass for concert photography.

What about your flash you ask? Blasphemer; Get thee behind me Satan!

Alright, let me be a little bit more objective. If you are close enough to the stage to take a great photograph and you use your flash what you will wind up with is a stark, contrasty image of your guitar hero, with none of the spectacular lighting effects which many bands spend scads of your hard earned money on. Flash photography is generally frowned upon and if you persist in taking alot of flash photographs you will draw security to you like you had walked into a dog kennel wearing Milk Bone underwear.

If you are no where near the stage then you will get an over exposed view of the first few rows directly infront of you and, if you are lucky, a welll it distant view of the stage.

So ditch the flash, you'll thank me in the morning.

That Dot Is Mick Jagger And That Dot Is Keef

While proximity to the stage is a real big plus it should in no way stop you from bringing your camera along if you are sat further back. .With the lighting and rear projection screens that so many acts use in their show these days, there is oppertunity a plenty to grab some very cool shots from a distance. There is a definate trade off; there are pictures taken close to the stage that you just can't capture from the back of the stadium. So to are there images you can get from the back of the stadium that you just can't hope to get close up.

One is not necessarily better than the other. Just different.

Let's Not Forget Why We're All Here In The First Place

The music, right. Let the music act as a guide to your pictures. Most bands are there to put on some kind of show as well as play you their music. Theatrical bands like Alice Cooper and The Tubes on one end of the spectrum with comparatively static bands like Pink Floyd and Genesis on the other. I'd rather shoot Cooper and The Tubes up close since both of these bands have a very active and theatrical front man. I'd be just as happy to shoot The Floyd and Genesis from a bit further back, due in no small fact that their theatricality comes more from the lights and rear projection screens.

Then there is everything act in between. The Rolling Stones who combind spectacular lighting with a lively cast of characters and one of rocks preiminent front men. Aersomith with the dynamic duo of Steven Tyler and Joe Perry providing the visual flash amidst the blazing lights.

Each and every act has it's strengths and weaknesses. Each and every act has it's merits as a photographic subject.

Dramatic musical passages will usually come with dramatic lighting, effects or onstage tableaus. Wait for it and be ready to click the shutter; you may wind up with nothing or you may catch Gowan mid leap from his keyboard, or a string of flash pods going off across the stage. These moments are over and done before you know it, so if you aren't anticipating them and ready, you will miss them.

While you can spend a good amount of your time watching a concert through your view finder the images you can capture with the right set up and a little patience will satisfy you over and over again.

Above all, have fun; enjoy yourself. This is a live concert after all.

2007-05-01T12:09:00.005-05:00

There is very little which a little bit of studio finagling can’t fix.

If you are into this kind of thing I highly recommend The Garden Tapes, a stellar website which get’s into pain staking detail about all of Led Zeppelin’s legitimately released live albums and how they are often Franken-Zeppelin efforts of meticulously pieced together performance montages. When introducing his dissertation on “How the West Was Won” Eddie Edwards, the author The Garden Tapes sites a then current interview with Jimmy Page where the interviewer asked Page why he had combined two concerts as he had for this release rather than just releasing one complete concert. “Presumably it was so that he could choose the best parts from each night? ‘No,’ he replied with uncharacteristic candor, ‘it was just to give that Garden Tapes bloke something to do.’

Classic live albums like “Get Your Ya Yas Out” and “Live At Leeds” have not escaped this malaise. While they are held up as quintessential representations of everything that a live album should aspire to be they themselves have not managed to escape a certain degree of studio wizardry.

Does this diminish their stature? Does this make them any less than the classic albums which they are? Not from where I sit.

But once you have graduated, once you have found yourself looking for the proverbial ‘more”, then, my friend, you are ready for the wonderful world of bootlegs. Recordings of Illicit Origin. The Great White Wonder.

Check out the following excerpt from my book "Not Only Am I With The Band..." for more on this subject.

Step into my parlor said the bootlegger to the fly
So many things in life are affected by where you are at any particular point in time. As an example, I met my future wife because of seaweed. Really. Doesn’t sound to romantic, does it? Romance is attributed to most things based upon any number of external forces. I mean, why are roses considered romantic? Of and by themselves they are just flowers. Very nice flowers I will grant you but not inherently romantic.

A woman may consider roses as romantic because the receiving of beautiful gifts makes her feel more beautiful herself. Also, roses are usually used in combination with a nice candle light dinner, again, not inherently romantic.

Guys find roses romantic because the giving of them usually leads to sex.

All the romantic guys are now saying “speak for yourself” and my wife is saying “hope you weren’t planning on seeing any of that sex for the foreseeable future.” What I can say in my defense is this. I am a romantic. Honestly I am. It’s just that I tend to look for the humorous, ironic and absurd in almost everything that I see. I just usually don’t express these observations out loud.

In my minds eye my face has been slapped a thousand times.

Yet I still cannot look at seaweed without thinking of when my wife and I first met. Maybe I’ll tell you that tale one of these days. Maybe if you keep on reading…

Now, where was I? Seaweed.. slap in the face… roses…. Romance… right place, right time… Elton John… oh right, Elton John.

My trek to find and acquire all music Elton lead me to start frequenting a record store located at the Oshawa Centre called Symphonette. Symphonette was situated on the upper level of the mall near Sears back in the days when the mall used to stretch from Sears at one end all the way to the Golden Griddle and bowling alley at the other.

By and large the people who used to work at Symphonette were one dimensional drones, there because they had to be, with no real passion for that which they sold; at least none that I could ever detect. One day I was in line waiting to make a purchase. The guy in front of me already had a red bag which obviously contained a record. He also seemed to know the guy behind the counter because he was spending one hell of a long time talking to him.

So, while waiting for them to finish whatever pressing business they had with each other I turned my attention to the red bag lying on the counter. You could almost make out what was behind that thin red veneer. Just when I thought I could suss out the title (something about “Strange Rain”) he snatched it up and mentioned the two words that were always guaranteed to get my attention in those days.

“I just picked up this Elton John boot” he said, withdrawing the record from its hiding place.

I was suddenly all ears and eyes. The album was a two tone job, blue-green and white. It showed an image of Elton John wearing some weird looking head gear and outrageous glasses. The title of the album was “Just Like Strange Rain”.

“Where did you get that????” I blurted.

“Go away kid,” snarled Mr. tall dark and pimply behind the counter.

“No, no. I really want to know. I love Elton John and thought I had all of his records. But I’ve never seen this record before.”

The owner of the record slid it along the counter to me. I snatched it up greedily.

Elton John – Just Like Strange Rain. Recorded live at the Hammersmith Odeon in London England on 12/24/1974. The record label was a company called “The Amazing Kornyphone Record Label. TAKRL for short.

Holy shit!! Where had this come from?

Imagine that you are a collector of fine art. You love Leonardo Da Vinci. You think that you were aware of everything that the master ever produced. Then suddenly, one day, you are made aware of a completely and hitherto fore unknown work. What do you do? What questions can you articulate? So many questions; so little time.

I split the difference and cut right to the chase.

“Where did you get this?”

I didn’t care what it was; I just knew that it was something I had never seen before, apparently recorded by an artist that I was currently enjoying a very intimate aural relationship with.

After an interminable period of time I got the information that I was after. Apparently the record was something called a “bootleg”. If I really wanted one I would have to go to a previously unheard of record shop called “Moonglow Records”.

“Ask for Marty” said Mr. Stridex pads.

“Thanks” I said, turning to go.

“And kid” this from the owner of the record.

I stopped and turned to face him.

“You won’t find this record in the Elton John section.”

I stared at him. Where was I to find it then?

“These aren’t like regular records” offered Acne central.

“Tell Marty that Jeff sent you.”

Jeff… right you are then…

That was all they would say, so I thanked them and fled Symphonette as if my life depended upon it. My initial urge was to charge downtown Oshawa and try to ferret out Moonglow Records that very instant. Yet there was something in their words and tone of voice that spoke of danger. Baby steps were required here; baby steps and a back up.

Cowardice being the better part of valour I decided to wait until the next day and enlist someone from the neighborhood to join me.

So next morning came around and the only person I could find to accompany me was Mike. With some effort I talked him into joining me on my quest. I tried to emphasize the implied danger and play down the fact that the root cause of this danger was a record. On the way downtown I filled him in more fully on what had transpired the previous afternoon. That these records were contraband was pretty evident. I had no idea how “Marty” would react to some kid walking into his store and asking to see some illegal merchandise.

We decided that Mike would wait outside the store for five minutes after I went in before entering. Then, if I was in trouble, he could quickly exit and fetch the local constabulary.

With our plan in place I screwed up my courage and entered the store.

Moonglow Records was a dimly lit narrow hole in the wall. No more than 20 foot wide by about 60 foot deep, it’s one aisle was lined down each side with record bins. Posters and additional record display racks fought it out for possession of the very walls themselves. As my eyes grew accustomed to the lighting I noticed that I wasn’t the lone customer in the store; two others listlessly flipped through albums near the back. Just inside the entrance was a counter flanked by a huge hand made display rack on the wall. Standing behind the counter was a stocky man with thinning black hair. I stood my ground as he spoke on the phone.

“… you can pick it up tomorrow afternoon. I have to go into Toronto so I can snag it for you tonight… yeah.. don’t worry, you’ll love this group… O.k. see you then…”

Hanging up the phone he turned his gaze to me.

“Can I help you?”

I swallowed dryly and ventured “I’m looking for Marty”

The man smiled and closed his eyes when he spoke.

“I’m Marty,” he chuckled, “what can I do for you?”

“I’d like to pick up the new live Elton John album.” I wished I could have remembered the title but the name escaped me.

Marty started to walk out from behind the counter and proceed down into the depths of the store. My heart swelled. Could it have been that easy? Near the back of the store Marty stopped in front of one of the bins on the left hand side. When I caught up with him I realized that he was standing by the Elton John section.

“You won’t find this in the Elton John section…”

My heart sank. Screwing up my courage one more notch I tried again.

“No… I’d like to see the new live Elton John album.”

Marty started flipping through the albums.

“Yeah 11-17-70. It’s not new but it is his only live album… and I’m afraid we’re all out of it. I could order it for you.”

“The record I’m looking for isn’t in the Elton John section…” I ventured, while wondering what this 11-17-70 album was.

Marty looked at me, with a baleful look, one that I would come to know only to well and said nothing.

“It’s a special album…”

“Special, eh?”

“Yeah, a special LIVE album by Elton John. “

I said this quietly so as to not attract the attention of the other patrons in the store.

Marty eyed me suspiciously. You know the look you get when you are loosing someone; bordering very much on the “whatever” vibe. Problem was that Marty was regarding me, very much on the “who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you blabbering on about” vibe.

I could picture myself beaten to a pulp, lying crumpled in a heap in some dark Oshawa alleyway.

In desperation I blurted out “Jeff sent me!!!!”

The gathering clouds receded from Martys face.

“Oh,” he said in understanding. “You mean the bootlegs!”

I recoiled, glancing furtively around trying to gauge what impact this pronouncement had made on the others. Where was my back up? Hadn’t it been five minutes yet? I needn’t have worried. The other patrons in the store continued flipping threw the bins, lost in their own little worlds. When I turned my attention back to Marty he was just disappearing behind the curtained opening of a doorway at the back of the store.

Should I follow? Was he going to get a gun? What should I do? Just as I made up my mind to follow him, he re-emerged clutching not one but two albums in his hand.

“Are these the ones you are looking for?” asked Marty as he passed them to me.

I didn’t recognize the first one. On its cover was a red and white picture of Elton John; he was wearing some weird looking costume or another. All Across the Havens was the title. It too was recorded live at the Hammersmith Odeon in London England on December 24, 1974. This was the same place and date as the other record but it had different songs. I quickly flipped to the second LP.

This was the one I had come for. Just Like Strange Rain.

Marty quickly explained.

“These two are from the same show; part one and part two if you will.

“I’ll take them both… how much are they?”

He smiled as he walked past me.

“Let’s go back up to the counter.”

As we approached the front of the store Mike came tentatively through the door. When he saw me walking towards him under my own steam he seemed to relax.

So I bought the two LP’s, raced home, slapped them on my turntable and proceeded to play them both over and over and over again. While I had seen a few concerts by this point I really wasn’t that familiar with the studio versions of the songs that were played. For the first time I was listening to live versions of songs that I was all too familiar with in all their studio finery; the experience was nothing short of a revelation.

Some songs were played faster, more frenetically, obviously picking up on the energy of playing before a live audience. Other songs sounded close to their studio incarnations, with various instruments up higher in the mix. Some vocals were done straight up, others placed emphasis on different lines, different words. Yet others were extended in length well beyond their vinyl constraints.

I was to find out through trial and error, that bootlegs were not always of the highest sonic quality. That’s not to say that the two discs I bought sounded bad; on the contrary. They both sounded amazing. Maybe that was part of the problem. If the sound quality had sucked my whole life might have turned out differently. But they didn’t and neither did it; the records and my life that is.

And that ladies and gentlemen was how I bought my first bootlegs.

We interrupt this tale for a sermon regarding bootlegs, counterfeit and pirated recordings.

Hot Wacks and the Great White Wonder

A pirated recording is a recording of officially released material dolled up to look like new product and released by someone who does not hold the copyrights to the material.

A counterfeit recording is an exact copy of officially released material in the same album sleeve and trimmings with absolutely no effort made to distinguish it from the officially released album. Much like those bogus Rolexes you can buy in Tijuana and Nogales.

A bootleg record is made up of live recordings, studio outtakes and demos, none of which have officially seen the light of day.

The Recording Industry Association of America, RIAA for short, lumps all three of these items into the same illegal milieu. I am in complete agreement with their view on the first two. Pirates and counterfeiters are ripping me, the consumer, off. That’s just wrong. If I am going to buy material released by my favorite artist then I am going to buy it from a legitimate source. The quality is just better, the artist gets credit for their work and the record company will continue to release their material. Profits from recordings also go towards the discovery of new acts.

Pirates and counterfeiters should be shot and pissed on, not necessarily in that order. At the very least they should have their executive washroom privileges revoked.

Bootleggers, on the other hand, are filling a demand for additional product that would not otherwise be available; this at the very least.

At their best, bootlegs capture moments in time that would be lost and gone forever if not preserved on tape. Many cultures throughout history have strived to preserve their accomplishments for posterity sake; even back when the word posterity did not exist. Think about it… why invent an alphabet if not to record words, thoughts and deeds so that future generations may gaze upon your nuggets of wisdom with rapt adoration. I look at recorded music as a historical time line of events and accomplishments. The record companies are responsible for releasing the major highlights that anyone of us would want to be remembered for, on behalf of their clients.

Only problem is, for many artists that represents only a part of the tale. In the same way that diaries and personal accounts flesh out any period in history, so too bootlegs flesh out the history of a recording artist. High points and low points unflinchingly captured for all to hear. When an artist is out on tour, night after night, each performance is not necessarily exactly the same; even if they play the same songs each night, eschewing the practice of switching certain tunes in and out of the set list in an attempt to keep things fresh. The guitar player could be having a particularly good night ripping off blistering solos and imbuing the proceedings with a certain magic. Or, the singer might be under the weather and, in an effort to prop up their band mate, the rest of the band rally round and give a truly spectacular performance. Or moments that are just out of the ordinary.

Jeff Beck’s musical turn on Jean Genie / Love Me Do and Around and Around during Bowie’s infamous Ziggy Stardust retirement gig at the Hammersmith Odeon in 1973 exists no where else save for on bootleg.

Mick Taylor joining his old band mates The Rolling Stones to play the entire show at Arrowhead Stadium in Kansas City on their 1981 tour of the Americas. You won’t find that filed under R for Rolling Stones.

Another sidebar here; it’s the whole issue of filing music. Elton John is a proper name. His records should be filled under J for John, Elton. The Rolling Stones should be filled under… no, no, not T for The. When filing an artist words like “The” and “A” are silent. You drop them before you file them. The Rolling Stones would be filed under R for Rolling Stones, The.

Jethro Tull? It’s a trick question. Even though Jethro Tull was an actual person he does not now, nor has he ever, played in the band. As a matter of fact Jethro Tull the person died in 1741. It is doubtful that he ever heard Aqualung or any of the other songs recorded by his namesake. Since Jethro Tull is not the name of anyone in the band you would file it under J for Jethro Tull. Same way you would file Lynyrd Skynyrd under L for Lynyrd Skynyrd.

George Thorogood and the Destroyers? Under T for Thorogood. As in Thorogood and the Destroyers, George.

This explains why you might go into your favorite record store from time to time and not be able to find your favorite artist. Don’t give up. After you have checked the right place for them to be filed try to imagine that you are illiterate. Where might you file them if you just don’t have a clue? Odds are you will find them there.

Right, back to out of the ordinary moments in music; you have the cases of a final performance of a beloved member of a band before they leave, or in really bad cases, die.

The late great Bon Scott’s final gig with his beloved AC/DC in France before his untimely death is captured on bootleg to enjoy over and over. As is Freddie Mercury’s final live gig with Queen at the Knebworth Festival, Stevenage, North Hertfordshire, England in 1986.

This more than anything in the transient world of rock and roll highlights the historical service which bootlegs provide. Capturing an artist’s or bands last shows… talk about priceless. John Bonham’s final performance as the power behind the mighty Led Zeppelin at Berlin’s Eissporthalle on July 7th, 1980; I could sit here and rhyme them off all day long; Stevie Ray Vaughn, Buddy Holly, Brad Delp, lions and tigers and bears (oh my).

Bootlegs come from many different sources. Everything from FM radio broadcasts, line recordings from the soundboard right the way down to the lone taper who sneaks his tape / MD / DAT decks into a concert and presses record.

Obviously, quality varies from source to source. Some albums are as good if not better than most live recordings legitimately released. Others not so much so; a boot of Deep Purple live titled “Glutton For Punishment” for example, sounded as though someone took their younger brothers first portable tape recorder into a concert hall and sat as far away from the stage as was humanly possible. Maybe even as far away as the parking lot.

It was a case of crowd with barely audible backing group. Hot Wacks, the bootleg bible, listed their review of “Glutton For Punishment” as “Piss poor, worst bootleg ever”.

No really, don’t hold back. What do you really think of it?

Needless to say I quickly introduced Jeff to the wonderful world of illicit live recordings. When a copy of Glutton became available Jeff, a huge Deep Purple fan, snapped it up. All so we could experience exactly how poor piss poor really was.

It was pretty poor. I think Hot Wacks succinct review hit the nail squarely on the proverbial head.

We ended up playing Frisbee with it, it the parking lot of the Oshawa Centre. Seeing as vinyl records could be used as lethal weapons we were lucky not to loose an appendage or vital organ. On one throw the record arced high into the sky before slicing it’s way back down to embed itself two thirds of it’s circumference into a flower garden.

I gotta tell you though; when it hit a solid brick wall… it blew up real good.

The biggest kick for me with bootlegs was the ability to relive a live performance over and over again. In all of it’s ragged glory; especially if it was a recording of a concert that I had actually attended. Many official live recordings just don’t hold a candle. They are edited, incomplete recordings. Or worse; they have been “sweetened” with studio overdubs correcting a bum note here or a missed cue there. Even records like the much vaunted “Get Your Ya Yas Out” by The Rolling Stones, considered by many to be one of the greatest live albums ever has been tainted by studio overdubs. Stones aficionados point to the bootleg “LIVEr Than You’ll Ever Be”, a show recorded in Oakland California as the quintessential document of the 1969 tour. It is an excellent sounding audience recording that was released in December of 1969, just over a month after its November 9th 2nd show recording.

As a matter of fact, “Get Your Ya Yas Out” was released by the Stones record company in large part as an answer to the release of “LIVEr”.

And that’s not the first time a bootleg has forced a studio into releasing a legitimate live product. Elton John’s live album 11-17-70 (titled 17-11-70 in Great Britain) was released as a direct result of bootleggers recording and releasing a live broadcast by Elton from New York radio station WABC.

Even the grandfather of rock bootlegs, Bob Dylan’s “Great White Wonder”, released on the Trade Mark of Quality label, had an impact on a major label. In the early days, bootleg vinyl came in plain white record sleeves with either a paper insert or a rubber stamp to identify the disc. GWW is widely recognized as THE first rock bootleg. It contained studio outtakes of songs by Dylan that had been recorded in his basement with his then current band (who were soon to leave Dylan and go on to become The Band).

So popular was this record that some legitimate record stores mistook it for an import and actually started stocking it.

Dylan’s record studio recognized a buck to made when they saw one and subsequently released the double LP “The Basement Tapes”.

True story; you can look it up.

One final argument that the RIAA uses against bootlegs goes something like this:
“People who buy bootleg recordings won’t necessarily buy the artist’s officially released material thereby denying them their due recompense.”

Or

“People who buy bootleg recordings of an inferior sound quality might hold the group erroneously responsible for the sub standard product.”

Let me say this about that. It has been my experience that people who buy bootlegs probably own every other officially released recording that they would be likely to have bought already. They are looking for the ever elusive “more”.

And in some cases the process works in reverse. Remember my first exposure to Queen in Kirk’s cannabis suffused lair? The next time I heard Queen was when Jeff brought his latest bootleg acquisition to my place to give it a spin. It was an album called “Command Performance” on The Amazing Kornyphone Recording Label.

“It was recorded at the Hammersmith Odeon in London around last Christmas.”

“Cool”

I remember the name Queen, as it applied the band, rang a bell. By the time the strains of the first song came throbbing out of my speakers I had made the connection.

“I know this song,” I blurted.

How could I not. It was one of the songs that Kirk had played for me after the Bowery Boys had left his basement to go and check out the myriad changes the mall had undergone since the previous day. It was off of their album Sheer something or another and it was called… it was called… Now… I’m…

“Here!” I cried triumphantly.

And it was. “Now I’m Here” the opening track from Queen’s third album “Sheer Heart Attack”.

Why do I bring all this up now? Well, just to say that the first Queen album that I ever owned was, in fact, a bootleg. That particular bootleg to be specific because, once we were through listening to it, I forced Jeff to travel right back down to Moonglow Records so that I might pick up my very own copy of it.

Now I own every single legitimate recording that Queen have released, including Brian and Roger’s more recent collaboration with Paul Rogers playing the role of Freddie Mercury. Not to mention an additional bootleg or 12.

So I can personally refute the RIAA’s assertions that buying bootleg records will take money out of an artist pocket. How, you might ask, do I know that I wouldn’t have caught on to Queen eventually of my own accord? Well, the answer there is… I don’t. This was, after all, right around the time that “Bohemian Rhapsody” was turning the Top 40 world on its very head. But that’s not how it happened. Bootlegs led me to buy into the artist’s catalogue; a trend that continues to this very day.

As I have mentioned sound quality on bootlegs can range from stunning to horrific, with many different aural shades in between. It is always wise to do some homework when buying them. With the advent of bootleg CDs it is possible to give a disc a listen to prior to purchasing. You need to determine your own personal tolerance as it relates to the minimum sound quality levels you will be able to live with. Just because bootlegs have the ability to capture historical performances doesn’t always guarantee that they will be the best quality. As with any illicit product the price is higher than its legitimate counterpart. And whatever you do, if you buy a bootleg and it is of substandard quality, do not, for heaven’s sake, blame the band. They had nothing whatsoever to do with its production, sound quality et al. The only thing a band is responsible for is their performance. Keep in mind too, like you and I, bands are not always at their best.

Most people who collect bootlegs know that the quality can vary wildly. Some will collect a performance solely on the merit of the historical significance, the rarity or for the sake of completeness, regardless of the sound quality. Others will only purchase excellent quality soundboards or radio broadcasts, forgoing some aspects of a performance to only gain quality. I tend to split the difference.

These people do not hold the band or the label liable. Except maybe to wonder why an exceptional performance has not be released officially.

Record companies just don’t like to see the profits going to anyone else….

End of sermon.

Can I get an “Amen”?

2007-02-12T13:38:00.000-05:00

Ode to our Angie

Angie came into our life a few months after we lost our first cat, Pushkin. Technically, Angie came into our life after my wife Rhonda got tired of me moping about the house following Pushkin’s death and told me it was time to go to the Toronto Humane Society (now Toronto Animal Services) near us.

And wouldn’t you know it, one of the very first cats we saw was the splitting image of the recently departed Pushkin.

Well shit. Divine provenance or a test. Who can say. The potential Pushkin the second was in pretty rough shape fur wise; badly matted, dirty and none to friendly. But what the hell, he had just been brought in and was in no way shape or form comfortable with his surroundings.

So we waited…

The next day when we went in we found out that this cat had bit someone. Understandable since he had been caged, but not the type of animal we wanted to bring into our household.

We noticed a brother and sister, much younger than the old fella we had our eye on and were working ourselves up to them. As we were looking at the duo a lady from the Humane Society entered the room and saw us admiring the two young cats.

"You know, I'd take that black one in the corner there before I took those two."

Rhonda and I had glanced in at the black one the lady had indicated but found her near the back of her cage eating. When we had tried to engage her, she had basically ignored us and continued to eat.

Not very sociable, we thought.

"Don't let the fact she was at the back of her cage eating and paying no attention to you discourage you. She was an outdoor stray and, as such, makes the most of any food presented her."

So we turned our attentions more fully to the black creature from the lagoon.

And there she was, front and centre at her cage bars, arching her back and rubbing against the rungs, purring up a veritable storm.

"Can we take her out of the cage?"

This from Rhonda.

"By all means."

And thus the love affair began.

So what were we going to call her? Blackie? Ebony? Midnight? Inkspot? Too predictable. Too pat. We settled on Angie, named directly after the Rolling Stones song of the same name. Me being a complete and utter music freak and Rhonda being not to terribly far behind, it was a no brainer.

We took Angie to our vet, Dr Black, to have him check her out, make sure we weren't buying a lemon as it were.

Angie was a three year old when we got her. She immediately entered our household and made herself right at home; both in our home and, more importantly, in our hearts. While she may well have been an outdoor cat in her previous life she certainly wasn't going to be one in her new home. Save during the summer; Rhonda and I aquiesed and let her out during the summer months, but only when we were outside with her.

She immdiately found every single depression in the ground under all of our fences and easiliy breached their defenses. Once we had all of these plugged she would still wind up in our neighbours backyard immediately to the back of us. How? We have no idea. The thought that the Angie we knew and loved near the end of her days could actually make the six foot leap up a fence to make her way into their back yard is foreign to us... and yet she must have. I made enough trips to our neighbours backyard for to retrieve her to verify the fact that she still made it out of our yard.

At some point or another, Rhonda and I decided that Angie needed a sister. Yeah, I know, but we were so much younger then.

The introduction of Angie to her newly minted sister Jade went just about as well as you could have expected. That is, so long as you expected the ruling Queen of the household to completely reject the usurper, to completely ignore us and pout for a couple of weeks. If you expected that reaction then you most definately would not have been disappointed.

Since Angie was named after a Stones theme, it was only just that her sister should be as well. Thus Jade was named after Mick Jagger's daughter.

Whereas Angie had been three years old when she joined our household, Jade was but eight scant weeks of age. Angie, God love her, deferred almost completely to the baby. Food is ready? By all means eat your fill and I will take what is left. Affection is there to be had? By all means get your share. There is more than enough love to go round in this house.

And how did Jade repay Angie for her troubles? Why, the same way that any spoiled child will repay their senoirs. She tried to monopolize our affections at every oppertunity. She attacked Angie at every chance. In a nutshell, Jade took everything that Angie offered her and then some.

And yet, Angie very rarely complained. From time to time she would look at Rhonda and I as if to enquire "and you brought this imp into our family because...?"

We had no response for that other than we thought she might have appreciated some company.

The "Cat Dynamic" as I liked to refer to it was born.

Angie spent the rest of her life deferring to the baby. And Jade gladly accepted.

She left us, just as January turned to February. Close but not quite right to the day that we first brought Angie home. It was her liver, you see. Leukemia? Cancer? Who can say; we heard both. Only one thing mattered. Our beloved Angie was sick and she wasn't going to get any better. Oh sure, there was some treatment we might have affected, but when you are talking the possablity of sucess in terms of 5% maybe, MAYBE 10% then the question must become, why? Who are we really doing this for? Who is going to benefit from this decision which has been placed before us? Her or us?

Unlike so many pet owners Rhonda and I were afforeded the oppertunity to spend some time with our Angie before she shuffled off this mortal coil. Hell, unlike Rhonda and I with Pushkin who died on the opperating table. Angie, who had always been pushing the 12 to 13 pound mark and was now reduced to eight to nine pounds thanks to her illness. At 15 1/2 years old we both, painfully, decided that she had earned a pass on us force feeding her for two months on the off chance that she might get better.

She was quiet, in her cage, upper level extreme right when we saw her last. So weak she could barely lift her head. Yet when we picked her up she still had a purr to give us, a purr to say that everything was alright, a purr to say that she still loved us. A purr to say thank you? We can only hope.

After spending an hour with her, trying as best we could to comfort her we had to take our leave. We could force feed her for two months on the slim chance that it might do any kind of good. But what good would that do when put up against the "big C". We would have been deluding ourselves.

Rhonda, God love her, signed the papers that basically said we would not hold Dr Black liable for having her put to sleep.

The decision made we wanted to keep her collar for sentimentality sake. I went back up to see our Angie one last time. To save Rhonda from having to see her yet again, with the decision which we fully anticipated cast in stone to be sure.

Angie always hated to have a collar on. Hell, what animal ever likes a collar; a brand to be around their neck.

As I unhooked Angie's collar for the very last time I kissed her on the forehead and whispered in her ear;

"Only the most special girl's get to have their collars off."

And she was; and she still is a most special girl.

Angie helped Rhonda and I get past the loss of our first pet, Pushkin.

Angie helped our much loved Jade be the cat that she is.

Angie will always be loved and most truely missed.

2006-11-17T11:55:00.006-05:00

Aerosmith - Devil's Got A New Disguise, The Very Best Of Aerosmith

Artist: Aerosmith

Label: Columbia

Release Dates:

Original: October 10, 2006
CD: October 10, 2006

Discs: 1

Aardvark's Rating:

How many greatest hits packages does any one band need? Well, if your name is Aerosmith then the answer to this question would be a whole whack. Let me see. In 1980 they released Aerosmith's Greatest Hits, not the most imaginative of titles but what the hell. 1988 saw the release of Gems, a collection of deeper cuts like Rats In The Cellar, No Surprize, Adam’s Apple and their ever welcome take on the old Yardbirds warhorse Train Kept A Rollin’. Then came the first of the Geffen era GH packages called Big Ones, released in 1994. 2001 saw Young Lust: The Aerosmith Anthology, another Geffen package which, this time, pulled together a few rarities like Love Me Two Times, Head First and the orchestral version of Amazing.

Next up came the career spanning O, Yeah! Ultimate Aerosmith Hits the result of Columbia and Geffen cutting through the legal red tape which comes with the division of royalties when you are talking about two competing companies trying to collaborate.

Throw in the re mastered and expanded Aerosmith - Greatest Hits 1973-88 in 1997 and I believe that brings the total up to six. Throw in any number of packages released in other countries and the number becomes even scarier. And, if you are the type to lump live albums in with Greatest Hits packages, you can tack another five onto the total.

So why another greatest hits package? Well... money, I suppose.

Don't get me wrong, Aerosmith have been through a hell of alot of shit this past year. First off, the band were forced to cancel the remainder of their Rockin' the Joint tour due to vocal problems that Steven Tyler was having; A trend whcih, sadly, had been becoming more and more the norm over the past number of tours.

Tyler had to go in for laser surgery on his throat, which necessitated him resting his voice for six weeks, a Hurculean task for someone as talkative as he is.

This would not have been the best of news at the best of times but, since the band were planning on working on a new album following the RTJ tour the timing just could not have been worse.

Next up, original bass player Tom Hamilton was diagnosed with throat cancer. The ensuining treatment has left him unable to tour with the band when they hit the road again for their co-headlining Route Of All Evil tour with Motley Crue this past fall.

So any plans to release a new album this year were pretty much DOA; shot down before they could really get started. But why release yet another greatest hits package instead? As I mentioned above, for the money, I suppose.

I was going to go into another little bit here about the merits of each indivdual song included herin. But then I thought "Why?" Each and every song on this disc, save two, are available elsewhere, most notably on the real career spanning O, Yeah! Ultimate Aerosmith Hits set.

Those two exceptions are a couple of new songs: Sedona Sunrise and the titular Devil's Got A New Disguise. Songs, I might add, which were originally slated to appear on the new album.

You see, the "new" album was to be made up primarily of reworked studio out takes, a practice not unheard of in the wonderfull world of rock and roll. Sedona Sunrise was originally a song demo'd for their album Pump from 1989 while Devil's Got A New Disguise was originally recorded for 1994's Get a Grip.

Both songs have been reworked from their original demo versions for release here.

Sedona is a song, not unlike their classic What It Takes and could very well have been a cross over hit on the new country stations with the right kind of promotion. Sadly, the studio seems to have missed that boat. But then again, what else is new for Aerosmith.

Devil's has the feel of a Love In An Elevator / Eat The Rich hybrid; an uptempo rocker with hooks you could rip your flesh on and a number of double entendres that Tyler has become famous for over the years ("If you see Kay, tell her I love her").

Neither of these songs are instantly great, but then again, how many songs truely are. I guess only time will tell if they become long standing staples in Aerosmith's set list a la Sweet Emotion and Walk This Way, or if they become relegated to the status of also rans. My gut tells me it will probably be the later.

Aerosmith are one of my favorite bands. Their musical cannon, while comparitively sparse for a band that has been around for as many years as they have is none the less strong (especially their first five albums). To get a true sense of who they are you need to see them live and see them in their natural habitat.

So, it is with a heavy heart that I give this recommendation.

If you are a long time fan this album is pretty much a non starter. Unless you are a completist (like I am) the two new songs may not be worth the investment. Rumours are running wild right now that these songs may well be included on the new album when it comes out, which will make this disc doubley redundent.

Even if you are new to Aerosmith there are far better discs to purchase. If you are only interested in one greatest hits package then go for O, Yeah! Ultimate Aerosmith Hits. It contains a fine sampling of their early Columbia days, their "comeback" days spent with Geffen and their later day Sony output.

But if you really want to get to know these bad boys from Boston, then why don't you just go out and buy each of their solo albums. I'd recommend starting with Toys in the Attic and Rocks from the early days, Permanent Vacation and Pump from their Geffen cannon and Nine Lives and Honkin' On Bobo from their Sony period.

In the end, I suppose it might make a good stocking stuffer. The music is all worthy; it's just been done any number of times before and in better configurations.

Disc One: Dream On / Mama Kin / Sweet Emotion / Back In The Saddle / Last Child / Walk This Way (Run DMC version) / Dude (Looks Like A Lady) / Rag Doll / Love In An Elevator / Janie’s Got A Gun / What It Takes / Crazy / Livin’ On The Edge / Cryin’ / I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing / Jaded / Sedona Sunrise / Devil’s Got A New Disguise

2006-11-07T12:18:00.000-05:00

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow,
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, saw dawn, felt sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Doctor Major John McCrae, 1st Field Artillery Brigade May 3, 1915, Second battle of Ypres, Belgium

Any time that I read the words to Lieutenant Colonel McCrae’s oh so famous poem it has never failed to bring a tear to my eye. The thought that men and women who I have never met were and are willing to lay down their lives so that I might enjoy the kind of freedom that I do has never ceased to touch me in the most profound manner.

The poem was rescued from a trash heap when McCrae, not satisfied with the words that he had written, tossed it away. It was originally published in England’s “Punch” magazine in December of 1915.

The general impression in my mind is of a nightmare. We have been in the most bitter of fights. For seventeen days and seventeen nights none of us have had our clothes off, nor our boots even, except occasionally. In all that time while I was awake, gunfire and rifle fire never ceased for sixty seconds..... And behind it all was the constant background of the sights of the dead, the wounded, the maimed, and a terrible anxiety lest the line should give way.(Prescott. In Flanders Fields: The Story of John McCrae, p. 98)

Unless you have been there, how could any of us truly appreciate the horror that war brings.

McCrae himself didn’t survive the Great War, the war to end all wars. During the summer of 1917, he was troubled by severe asthma attacks and occasional bouts of bronchitis. He became very ill in January 1918 and diagnosed his condition as pneumonia. He was moved to Number 14 British General Hospital for Officers where he continued to grow weak.

On January 28, after an illness of five days, he died of pneumonia and meningitis. The day he fell ill, he learned he had been appointed consulting physician to the First British Army, the first Canadian so honoured.

John McCrae was buried with full military honours in Wimereux Cemetery, just north of Boulogne, not far from the fields of Flanders. Bonfire led the procession, McCrae's riding boots reversed in the stirrups. His death was met with great grief among his friends and contemporaries. A friend wrote of the funeral:

The day of the funeral was a beautiful spring day; none of us wore overcoats. You know the haze that comes over the hills at Wimereux. I felt so thankful that the poet of `In Flanders Fields' was lying out there in the bright sunshine in the open space he loved so well.... (Prescott. In Flanders Fields: The Story of John McCrae, p. 129)

For me, Remembrance Day has always found a focus in one person; Alexander Greenaway, Uncle Alec to me.

My uncle enlisted in the Irish Guard Armored Division in 1943 as a radio man. He saw action in France, The Netherlands and Germany during the Second World War. He landed on the continent on D-Day +6. He took part in Operation Market Garden, the failed Allied offensive of September 1944. If you’ve ever seen the movie A Bridge Too Far then you have a general idea of what happened.

He never spoke very often of his time in the military; at least not to me. But when he did I was rapt. I have always had an extremely healthy fascination with history. The how’s, why’s and wherefore’s of what has transpired.

A few anecdotes that my uncle proffered to me come to mind.

My uncle and a few others visited the grave of a fallen comrade buried in a small graveyard somewhere in France. While paying their respects a German barrage started up, shells falling all around them. Uncle Alec and his friends hit the deck and crawled on their bellies until they could get out of the open and take shelter.

“Afterwards,” he said, “I remember looking down at my uniform. There were little tufts of grass twisted around the buttons.”

Following the bombardment they made their way back to the barracks which were situated several kilometers up the road. On the way they were greeted by any number of newly liberated French families brandishing bottles of Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon.

“Tommy,” they cried, “Come, eat, drink.”

By the time they made it back to their billet they were more than just a little tipsy.

Another time my Uncle’s tank was out on patrol. The forest they had been driving through suddenly gave way to a clearing. Feeling exposed, the tank commander ordered them to back up into the woods. No sooner had the tank retreated than a shell from an unseen enemy whizzed by the front of their Sherman and exploded on a hill to their left. Unbeknownst to them, a German Tiger tank had pulled up beyond a knoll to their right.

There were more stories of camaraderie, but the one that sticks out most in my mind is the story that my uncle told me about the death of his best friend, Billy Waters. It was during Operation Market Garden which started on September 17th, 1944 and ended on September 25th, 1944, short of their ultimate objective of the Arnhem Bridge. The 3rd Division of the Irish Guard were actively involved in this attempt to push through to Germany’s doorstep and end the war by Christmas.

While their tanks were in line along the approach road to bridge at Nijmegaen a German 88mm gun opened up on the column. My uncle’s tank along with a number of others was dispatched to hunt down and destroy this threat to their flank. It was only after he had returned from this action that he found out one of the tanks destroyed by this threat had been Billy’s.

On his next leave home he went to visit Billy’s mother, to pass on condolences and share in their grief. Mrs. Waters threatened to break both of my uncle’s legs, not because she blamed him in any way, shape or form for her son’s death. On the contrary, she wanted to incapacitate my uncle so that he would not have to return to active service. So much did she think of her son’s friend, she did not want to see the same fate befall him.

58 years later, sitting in my parent’s basement on the occasion of my fathers 70th birthday, this memory was still so fresh in Uncle Alec’s heart that it was all he could do to raise a glass in his friends’ memory. You see, my dad’s birthday is September 22nd a date which fell in the middle of the battle oh so many years ago. So sharp was the emotion that there was nary a dry eye amongst the men who had retired to the basement to have a drink and a friendly game of darts.

My uncle survived the war. He spent time in Palestine, joined the elite British Airborne before ultimately moving from Belfast, Northern Ireland to Toronto, Canada, a place which he called home until his death.

Even in his new homeland he continued to serve, joining the Toronto Metropolitan Police, a job which he held until his retirement. Always on the front line; always ready to give of himself on behalf of others. That was my Uncle Alec.

My uncle joined his fallen comrades this past fall. All of his years with the Guard, the Paras and Metro’s finest could not lay him low. In the end it was illness which felled him. In hindsight his sickness was mercifully short, although it never ever seems that way at the time to those that love him, does it?

Much to my ever lasting shame, I never took the opportunities afforded me to say thank you, to press, even a little, the better to understand all that he had been through. I can only hope that, having gone to his great reward, he can some how sense the admiration that I felt for him.

Not much to hang on too, but in the face of the death of a loved one, sometimes it is all that we have.

And so, while my thoughts have always turned to my uncle as a very real embodiment of all that Remembrance Day has stood for, it is now tinged with a deep melancholy; a tangible sense of loss.

If you know someone who has served; or even know of someone who has served, please take a moment to talk to them; to endeavor to understand the sacrifices they have made, and the brotherhood which they have forged in the process. At the very least, to say thank you.

In the end, regardless of whether or not you agree with the idea of war and the reasons why it is still waged, and probably always will be, remember, it is never started by those who serve their country, sometimes making the ultimate sacrifice, always marked by the experience even if they don’t.

Have a care, recognize that they are putting themselves in harms way for you, for me, for all of us.

Thank you Uncle Alec. Your duty is well and truly done.

I will never forget you.

2006-10-25T12:17:00.000-05:00

Live Review

Aerosmith / Motley Crüe
Monday, October 2, 2006
Air Canada Centre

It was the best of bands; it was the worst of bands (with apologies to Charles Dickens).

Rhonda and I made our way to the concert, not sure what to expect from one band and knowing full well what we were in for with the other.

We are long time Aerosmith fans who have seen them live 12 times dating back to 1977. It would be our first time seeing Motley Crüe. I’ll admit upfront that we are not huge Motley Crüe fans; that being said we really had nothing against them either. We knew any number of their more popular tunes; Dr. Feelgood, Same Old Situation, Kickstart My Heart, you know; their classics.

So, off we went. The Motley Crüe set started with a couple of scantily clad women, several rather large explosions and the amplified strains of Dr. Feelgood; so far so good. Mick Mars thrashed away on guitar, Nikki Sixx rumbled away on bass and Tommy Lee anchored the whole damn thing, wailing away on the drums like his life depended on it. And then there was Vince Neil, erstwhile silver throated singer and ring leader of the whole damn thing.

As with any time I am going to see a band live for the first time I had started to do my homework on all things Motley. I had read reviews that said Vince Neil was a rather bloated, drunken shadow of his former self. I had also read reviews that said he "ROCKED DUDE!!!" Let me just say this about that; having never seen the Crüe in their heyday I have no point of reference to definitively state whether he was, in fact, a shadow of his former self.

Right from the word go he let the crowd carry a goodly chunk of the vocal duties during the chorus. I mean, there is getting the audience involved and there is shirking your duties for fear of shooting for and missing those high notes. From a stage presence perspective he was pretty flat, regardless of what kind of energy his entire expletive laced ravings were supposed to inspire.

Now before you go thinking that I am dismissing Vince's performance based solely on the fact that he fucking swore a fucking whole fucking lot... well, think again... fuckers.

But it has always been a pet peeve of mine when performers feel compelled to cheerlead.

"I can't fucking hear you, you motherfuckers!!!"

"Well, maybe if you fucking played fucking better we would fucking cheer louder!!!"

And this between every expletive deleted song. I mean, low self esteem anyone?

Ten minutes into the show, Rhonda turned to me and screamed in my ear, "O.K., now we've seen Motley Crüe. They can get off the stage anytime."

Beside the aforementioned Dr. Feelgood just about every other song was unintelligible. Maybe it was all of the flash pots and explosions they set off every three or four minutes that deafened me, but most songs were nearly half way done before I was finally able to discern what the hell it was they were purportedly playing.

I like my music loud. If you are at a concert and can talk to the person next to you in a normal voice then the sound man just isn't doing their job. When the drummer hits the kick drum I want to feel it in my solar plexus. When the guitarist tears off a blazing solo, I want to feel like the sound is peeling my scalp back and exposing my skull. When a singer hits that high note I want to feel like it has pierced my very soul.

Motley Crüe just played to damn loud. I know, I'm old, I can't take the real deal anymore... Like hell. When a song sounds like one big mashed up ball of slush and the lead singer's voice is barely audible above the cacophony, that is, when he can remember the damn words at all, then that is too loud.

That and the pyro; I swear to God that if the Motley one's took all of the explosives they lit off during their 80 minute set and detonated them at the same time the world would have come to an end.

The only saving grace of their performance was Tommy Lee. Vince was drunk, Mick was catatonic and Nikki was... well, Nikki I suppose. The following day was Tommy's birthday so he was in fine spirits. When the band presented him with a birthday cake in the shape of a pussy (and I'm not talking cat here folks), he dove headfirst into the treat and lapped it up.

After the Crüe wound up with Kickstart My Heart, Nikki smashed his bass guitar for no readily discernable reason. If it was his response to the culmination of the energy the crowd had been feeding him all night then, well, he has a pretty low threshold for receiving energy. What kind of effect did this display have on the crowd? Some people cheered, others watched in a kind of detached fascination quite possible wondering what the hell had brought this all on. Me? I just found myself sincerely hoping that he didn't have a spare instrument. Fortuitously, he did not and their time in the spotlight was over. Done like dinner; Finito. Thank God for small mercies...

"Well, one good thing about their set," offered Rhonda.

I looked at her in, what I hope was my best “And what would that be” kind of look. The thought that anyone who truly loved live music could have gotten anything out of that set was foreign to me.

"I'm much warmer now than when I first came in."

And here I’d thought all those pyrotechnics had been a complete waste…

Aerosmith took the stage at 9:30 with a blistering version of Toys In The Attic. Compared to the Motley stage, Aerosmith’s set up was downright Spartan; a row of monitors flanking both sides of a modest drum riser with an elevated ramp in back. Presiding over the stage, a veritable revealer of the sanctum sanctorum was a massive video screen.

At the beginning of the tour the set list was pretty heavy on the Geffen era cannon, quite possibly in deference to the hey day of their co-headliners and, more specifically, the audience which said co-headliners would draw. Six tunes in all including Dude (Looks Like A Lady) and Rag Doll from 1987's Permanent Vacation and Pump's What It Takes… good songs to be sure but they had been done to death and all of them save What It Takes has never really done much for me in concert.

By the time the show made it to Toronto the majority of the songs were 70’s classics like the rarely played (before this tour anyways) S.O.S. (Too Bad) and a haunting version of Seasons Of Wither from Get Your Wings, Mama Kin and Dream On from their eponymous first album and all the usual suspects from Toys in the Attic, which, along with Rocks, is considered by many to be their finest hour musically.

As an early birthday present Joey graciously stepped aside to let Tommy Lee lay down the beat to a ragged but energetic and completely infectious reading of the Brad Whitford penned Rocks tune Last Child. The whole time Tommy had a sappy, star struck I really can’t believe I’m up here playing with Aerosmith kind of look on his face. Who says that the famous can’t get gob smacked themselves. And when Steven lasciviously commented that Tommy was “the luckiest guy alive” there were few present that didn’t get what it was that he was driving at.

For me, Aerosmith have never failed to please. And any show that they don’t break out that saccharine tome I Don’t Want to Kiss Your Thing; well, let me tell you. I could probably live the rest of my life without hearing that damn song again. Yeah, I know it’s their biggest hit. Yeah, I know that more women have given “it” up after listening to that tune than you can shake a stick at. Yeah, I know. That doesn’t change the fact that the song is just so damn formulaic; and here I bet you figured I was just going to take the weak assed road and say the song sucked, which it does.

The last couple of tours have been extra sweet for me since they broke out a couple of old favorites which I have never seen played live before. On their Rockin’ The Joint tour it was No More No More (a personal favorite). For this tour it was their cover version of the old Peter Green era Fleetwood Mac classic Rattlesnake Shake. The later song is the one that ostensibly provided the reason we have an Aerosmith in the first place, as Steven so gleefully relates to anyone who cares to listen. Which I can totally get behind; you can’t forget your roots now, can you.

Between S.O.S. (Too Bad) and Cryin’ Steven afforded some guy in the audience time on his microphone to propose marriage to his girlfriend. A crowd of 18,000 went pretty damned quiet while this guy poured his heart out to the love of his life. I guess she must have glanced at Steven after the proposal because he replied, “Don’t look at me like that. I could be the first guy to break up a marriage before it ever takes place.”

Looking back on it now that, in a bizarre kind of microcosm, helped to differentiate the two bands right then and there; so at ease with themselves Steven would actually stop a show for all of sixty seconds to allow a proposal to take place; to hand over the microphone, his microphone, to some rube in the crowd. I think Vince would have been to embroiled in swearing at his audience to have noticed. Maybe I just missed the whole Motley point. Maybe that is what being a Motley Crüe fan really consists of; being subjected to a stream of vulgarities, a wall of sound assaulting your senses and blast after blast of explosives. Oh, and the scantily clad women. We should never forget the scantily clad women.

The contrasts, ah the contrasts; when two bands play back to back like this it is so hard not to hold one’s performance up to the others.

Vince Neil came off as some buffoonish rube who could barely remember the words, at least when his vocals were audible above the cacophony. He constantly felt the need to curse, swear and cajole the crowd. Steven Tyler was coolness incarnate; no need to harangue the crowd, no need to cheer lead. Just get up there and sing his fucking heart out. I’ve read a few posts from Motley Crüe fans who chided Tyler for the presence of Teleprompters displaying the song lyrics. The first thought that came to my mind was “Vince could bloody well use one of those”. In reality I can’t honestly remember any time during the gig when Tyler had to use them.

As for Mick Mars, my first impressions were that he was rather static for a guitar god. I have since found out that he is suffering from a degenerative bone disease which goes a long way to explaining his lack of mobility. Sadly I can’t really comment on his virtuosity because the mix was so horrendous. God knows he might have been the greatest guitar player to have ever graced the planet. I really doubt it but I was unable to draw any viable conclusions from this night. This I lay at the feet of the sound man. Joe Perry played with heart and soul, imbuing his performance with subtlety when called upon, vim and vigor when the song dictated and an overwhelming sense of passion laced with sublime confidence.

Brad Whitford was even more Brad Whitford than usual. For a band with two guitar players the concept of a lead guitarist and a rhythm guitarist has always been as foreign to these guys as trigonometry must be to an Aardvark. On the surface Aerosmith have always been about Steven and Joe; dig a little deeper and you will realize that they truly would not be nearly as good without the Krawhitham trio of Joey, Brad and Tom. Brad played his ass off, weaving in and out of Joe’s leads but never hesitant to take the lead himself. All done effortlessly and with as much drive as anyone could ever hope to ask.

The rhythm section of Nikki Sixx and Tommy Lee, again, were largely lost in the mix. The former Mister Pamela Anderson was certainly the most energetic member of the Crüe but that was largely wasted while he was relegated to the drum seat. The other members of the band seemed downright catatonic by comparison, relying on the explosions to provide most of their energy.

Aerosmith’s rhythm section was as tight as any rhythm section that had been playing together into their fourth decade might be. Better maybe. Ah, but here’s the rub; they had only been playing together for a matter of months. Founding member Tom Hamilton has been fighting a battle with the big ‘C’. Between that and the radiation treatments necessary he was in no shape to tour. Except for a one off performance of his trade mark song Sweet Emotion played in the bands home town of Boston Tom has yet to tread the boards on this tour.

Instead, and with Tom’s blessing, former Joe Perry Project bass player David Hull has been enlisted to hold down the bottom end in his absence. And a mighty fine bassist he is. Now any time you throw a new musician amongst a group of other musicians that have been playing together for so many years could and very frequently does spell disaster; regardless of the new musician’s proficiency at their instrument. And while the abscence of the blonde bomber was felt it really did not detract from the show in the least. If anything the enthusiasm that Tommy Lee expended during his one song provided only a hint of the new blood energy that seemed to infuse the entire set.

Should the band can Tom and hire David on full time? Are you high? I suggest nothing of the sort. Let’s just say, on this night anyways, I don’t think David was the only one finding the challenge of playing with a new band invigorating.

So, on the one hand we got to see Motley Crüe trying to convince the crowd that they were still the high school pranksters. Smoking In The Boys Room was a very apropos song for them to record; it embodies everything that the Crüe have been and probably always will be. And you know what? More power to them. As I said at the beginning of this review, who can argue with scantily clad women, booze, explosions and music played really fucking loud. Thing is, I think that the Motley ones really see things in exactly that order. Pity since, as you can see, the music comes last.

Aerosmith on the other hand have always seemed to live by the Joe Perry penned credo Let The Music Do The Talking.

Or, as Steven Tyler once so succinctly put it;

“Some bands are into jerking off; we’re into fucking.”

Kind of gets you right here, doesn’t it?

Setlists:

Motley Crüe

Dr. Feelgood / Shout At The Devil / Wild Side / Looks That Kill / Live Wire / Same Old Situation (S.O.S) / Home Sweet Home / Don’t Go Away Mad (Just Go Away) / Louder Than Hell / Too Fast For Love / Sick Love Song / Primal Scream / Girls Girls Girls / Kickstart My Heart

Aerosmith:

Toys In The Attic / Mama Kin / S.O.S. (Too Bad) / Cryin’ / Baby Please Don’t Go / Stop Messin’ Around / Seasons Of Wither / Dream On / Last Child / Rattlesnake Shake / Love In An Elevator / Sweet Emotion / Draw The Line / Walk This Way

For more pictures of Aerosmith set go here.

2006-10-16T11:12:00.002-05:00

Jethro Tull - Aqualung

Artist: Jehtro Tull

Label: Capitol

Release Dates:

Original: March 19, 1971
CD: June 18, 1996

Discs: 1

Aardvark's Rating:

Sitting on a park bench, eyeing little girls with bad intent,
Snot running down his nose, greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes

With those lines one of the more enduring tunes in the classic rock pantheon was born; lines I might add that were taken, almost verbatim from a conversation Ian Anderson had with his first wife following her photo shoot of homeless people.

Just goes to show you that you should always listen to your spouse; you never know what you could miss. Couple those words with one of rocks more memorable guitar riffs and an album which many consider to be Jethro Tull’s masterpiece is off and running.

A fan of Jethro Tull in general and this album in particular I just recently re-listened to it’s 25th anniversary incarnation. As the songs passed by like old friends seldom seen it struck me; this is a microcosm of all which Ian and company would ultimately become best known for; Prog rock, acoustic noodlngs, straight ahead rock and roll. This album has it all.

Anyone just learning about Jethro Tull could do one hell of a lot worse than start here. Prior to this release the band had moved from the blues roots of their inaugural record This Was with tunes like “Someday The Sun Won’t Shine for You”, “My Sunday Feeling” and their take on the old blues chestnut “Cat Squirrel” to the electric folk of “With You There To Help Me” and “To Cry You A Song” from 1970’s Benefit.

Then came Aqualung. Musically diverse and lyrically dense the band tackle no less topics than homelessness, teenage prostitution, organized religion and death. Common enough themes maybe in the ensuing years but in 1971 it was a revelation. The critics labeled the album a concept piece, something which Ian Anderson the bands writer / singer / leader has always vehemently denied.

Yet one can’t deny the inherent division apparent on the original vinyl release; side one dealt with the homeless nearly sub-human Aqualung… a species of man so named because of the rattling breath sounds it / he / she emitted. Side two had a distinctly anti religion bent. Anti religion mind, not anti God as so many religious fundamentalists have always claimed. The flip side dealt extensively with the mockery which man has perpetuated in the name of the almighty, a theme introduced in the inner sleeve of the original album’s gatefold:

In the beginning Man created God; and in the image of Man created he him.
2. And Man gave unto God a multitude of names, that he might be Lord over all the earth when it was suited to Man.
3. And on the seven millionth day Man rested and did lean heavily on his God and saw that it was good.
4. And Man formed Aqualung of the dust of the ground, and a host of others likened unto his kind.
5. And these lesser men Man did cast into the void. And some were burned; and some were put apart from their kind.
6. And Man became the God that he had created and with his miracles did rule over all the earth.
7. But as all these things did come to pass, the Spirit that did cause man to create his God lived on within all men: even within Aqualung.
8. And man saw it not.
9. But for Christ’s sake he’d better start looking.

A lurching flute driven rocker follows the titular track as we are introduced to the under aged vixen Cross-Eyed Mary, a victim of her own insatiable wants and needs who seeks out the company of a “letching grey” or perhaps a dalliance with the predatory Aqualung.

Cross-Eyed Mary finds it hard to get along
She’s a poor man’s rich girl, and she’ll do it for a song
She’s a rich man’s stealer, but her favour’s good and strong
She’s the Robin Hood of High gate, helps the poor man get along

The electric machinations are temporarily suspended here as the band flex their acoustic muscle. Cheap Day Return documents a day trip that Anderson made to visit his ailing father by way of British Rail; expressing in the all to brief reading the concerns that any man’s son might have for his not to long for this world father.

And you sadly wonder, does the nurse treat your old man
The way that she should. She made you tea, asked for your autograph
What a laugh

Followed closely by the surrealistic ramblings of the infinitely hum able Mother Goose; Aqua Velva ingested hallucinations anyone?

And the lady said to me, if you start you raving and your misbehaving
You’ll be sorry. Then the chicken-fancier came to play
With his long red beard (and his sister’s weird, she drives a lorry)

Can Aqualung truly know love? The way the Ian tells it, he most certainly can… for one night at the very least. Wond’ring Aloud is a beautiful, melancholy acoustic piece that survives in the Tull’s set list to this very day.

Wond’ring aloud, how we feel today
Last night sipped the sunset, my hands in her hair
We are our own saviors, as we start both our hearts beating life
Into each other

The raucous Up To Me disrupts the pastoral acoustic styling's, barely hinting at the cacophony which is to follow. A cacophony that succinctly lances the foibles and shortfalls of organized religion with such heart felt passion that only the most zealous of religious fanatics can resist the blatant imperative to revisit all that they have “known” and recant that very knowledge.

My God, the song formerly known as the start of side two pulls no punches and takes no prisoners in it’s inquisition. Organized religion has done more over the years to alienate the faithful from the very God that they seek to get closer to than any atheistic army could ever have hoped to accomplish. Anderson’s beef against “the church” had less to do with the concept of God himself and more to do with just what it is that we, as human beings, have managed to make of the whole thing which we call religion.

People—what have you done, locked Him in His golden cage
Made Him bend to your religion, Him resurrected from the grave
He is the god of nothing, if that’s all that you can see
You are the god of everything, He’s inside you and me
So lean upon him gently, and don’t call on him to save
You from your social graces and the sins you used to waive
The bloody Church of England , in chains of history
Request your earthly presence, at the vicarage for tea

The follow up to My God, Hymn 43 still has the deep rooted resonance that all songs of substance must posses if they hope to stand the test of time. It deals with the concept of Jesus Christ as a logical progression of what he must become if in fact He was a product of our grasping imagination.

Oh father high in heaven - smile down upon your son
Whose busy with his money games—his women and his gun
Oh Jesus save me!
And the unsung Western hero, killed an Indian or three
And made his name in Hollywood, to set the white man free
Oh Jesus save me!
If Jesus saves—well he’d better save Himself
From the gory glory seekers who use His name in death.

The brief snippet of a song “Slipstream” introduces the concept of death as a final reckoning; a settling up of the tab as it were.

And you press on God’s waiter you last dime
As he hands you the bill
And you spin in the slipstream, timeless—unreasoning
Paddle right out of the mess

Next up comes the other song which, next to Aqualung, is probably their most popular song to this very day. Locomotive Breath is life (and death) as a runaway train. Starting out with a lilting piano riff the song soon builds to a raging torrent which barely lets up for the remaining four minutes odd. The Grim Reaper as an engineer.

He hears the silence howling, catches angels as they fall
And the all time winner, has got him by the balls
He picks up Gideon's Bible, it’s open at page one
Old Charlie stole the handle and the train won’t stop going
No way to slow down

But my favorite, the song which sums it all up for me, “Wind Up” finishes the original album off, speaking earnestly of a young boy, pure of spirit as only the young can be, growing more and more confused by the dictates placed upon him by his elders. Dictates that, even as a young boy, he could see as facile.

When I was young and they packed me off to school
And taught me how not to play the game
I didn’t mind if they groomed me for success
Or if they said that I was just a fool
So I left there in the morning with their God tucked underneath my arm
Their half-assed smiles and the book of rules
So I asked this God a question and by way of firm reply
He said—I’m not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
So to my old headmaster, and to anyone who cares, before I’m through, I’d like to say my prayers
I don’t believe you, you had the whole damn thing all wrong
He’s not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays

The whole concept of what it means to be a Christian has plagued better minds than mine. But the irony of what a man made concept makes of the almighty has always vexed me. Man is imperfect. Man is fallible. Why then rely upon the dictates of man to guide the way that we relate to the divine. It has never made sense to me. And until I discovered the final track on the original issue of Aqualung I felt as though I was alone in my vexation.

Now tell me true; who doesn't know someone who is an outwardly pious person, attending church regularly, contributing to the rector’s discretionary fund, paying their tithes, attempting to get “good with God” through hollow gestures and monetary contributions. The whole concept of tithing sprang up from a church desperate for money… oh yeah, and the salvation of the faithful of course.

Thing is the rich and corpulent would gladly pay these tithes so that they could wipe out a lifetime of being a jack ass, abusing their fellow man, gouging everyone that they possibly could and generally being a certified grade “A” son of a bitch. But it was all good because they had coughed up some money, ostensibly so that God would look the other way.

“Sure the guy was a prick,” says God, “but he did donate $10,000 dollars to my earthly envoys last year so it’s all good.”

Yeah, sure. To quote Bono during one of his very frequent in concert rants:
“The God I know isn’t short of cash, mister.”

Which kind of emphasizes my point, I think, at the same time that it kind of exposes Mr. Paul Hewson’s idea of his place in the grand scheme of things.
“God? Yeah, I’ve got him on speed dial. Right after my accountant.”

But I digress.

By saying that God isn’t the “kind you have to wind up on Sundays” Anderson was actually saying that, to know God, you should feel His presence 24/7, 365 (366 in a leap year). The knock was against those who only ever felt the touch of the divine during designated business hours (read Sundays).

There are 6 bonus tracks on the 25th Anniversary edition and the subsequent regular edition release. Lick Your Fingers Clean was a track originally intended for the Aqualung release but was left off for reasons known only to Anderson. Perhaps it didn’t fit in thematically…. But what am I saying. After all, this isn’t a concept album, is it. A very good rollicking track nonetheless, finally finding the home initially denied it.

The Quad Mix of Wind-Up follows. Remember Quad? That was the 70’s attempt to take recordings to the next level. If stereo was exponentially better than mono, then surely four channels would be that much better than two.

Then again, maybe not. Now we have the 5.1 discrete channels of Super Audio CD’s and DVD-Audio. Back then it was a gimmick with instruments swirling around the four speakers with no rhyme nor reason evident for the effect. It was done because it sounded cool. It was done because a goodly number of those listening might well be on some sort of mind altering drug or another. It was done because, well, what the hell else were you going to do with four speakers to fill.

The third bonus track is actually Ian Anderson’s ruminations on the recording of the album and it’s place in musical history. The remaining are BBC recorded versions of “Song For Jefferey”, “Fat Man” and “Bouree” from their first three discs.
In the final analysis you shouldn’t let the religious overtones scare you away from this disc. At the end of the day it is a kick ass album, with enough rock and roll to get you Ya Yas Out, with enough underlying concepts to get you thinking, even if it is only subliminally. Aqualung is not the answer to anything. That being said, it may just be the catalyst that you have been looking for to get you looking for those answers.

Highly recommended.

Disc One: Aqualung / Cross-Eyed Mary / Cheap Day Return / Mother Goose / Wond’ring Aloud / Up To Me / My God / Hymn 43 / Slipstream / Locomotive Breath / Wind-Up / (Bonus Tracks) Lick Your Fingers Clean / Wind-Up (Quad Version) / Excerpts from Ian Interview / Song for Jeffrey / Fat Man / Buouree

2006-10-12T11:12:00.001-05:00

Billy Joel - 12 Gardens Live

Artist: Billy Joel

Label: Sony

Release Dates:

Original: June 13, 2006
CD: June 13, 2006

Discs: 2

Aardvark's Rating:

12 Gardens Live is the latest live effort by Billy Joel, one of pop rocks elder statesmen and what a great album it is. This disc brings Mr. Piano Man's total of live official offerings to four, and to my way of thinking it is probably the most satisfying one to date.

These recordings stem from a series of 12 sold out shows at Madison Square Gardens this past spring; no small feat to be sure. In fact, the attendance record that he broke was his own, a previous 10 date stint at the self same venue. This disc could quite easily have degenerated into yet another greatest hits package as so many live albums tend to do these days. I'm happy to tell you that this temptation was avoided here to very great effect. Don't get me wrong, the hits are here; and mighty fine versions of them they are. Smoking takes of Joel hits My Life, Big Shot and Only The Good Die Young are played with much vim and vigor.

Yet it is the deeper cuts that make the album. A stirring version of his Vietnam epic Goodnight Saigon here, live staple Miami 2017 (I've Seen The Lights Go Down On Broadway) there; sprinkle in a pinch of the infrequently played Vienna mix with a haunting rendition of And So It Goes and serve while still hot.

Naturally, the inclusion of personal favorites New York State of Mind, Scenes From An Italian Restaurant and Movin' Out (Anthony's Song) didn't hurt my opinion of this disc any. What can I tell you; previous efforts KOHUEPT (Live in Leningrad) and 2000 Years: The Millennium Concert pale in comparison. The former was to contrived; the latter to sterile.

For me this disc captures a true sense of verisimilitude: a real sense of being there.

To my ears the mix is excellent. Vocals are front and centre without over powering the instruments, exactly where you would expect to find them. Drums have presence, the piano a nice timbre and the guitars have a suitable amount of bite to them. I mean, let's not kid ourselves here, this is Billy Joel we are talking about. Not Metallica or Voivod. But still with all...

I've read some reviews that question the relative merits of the sound on this disc. To my way of thinking they are comparing those merits to the studio versions. A big no-no in my book. The sound was so much better when I went to night x of his 12 night stand. Bullshit. Songs just sound different live. Get over it. You can't tell me that the sound at any live event could ever hope to sonically surpass a professional recording of that self same event. I've been to my fair share of concerts since the early 70's and quickly learned that comparing the sound at any given concert to anything other than the sound at any other given concert is folly at best.

What sets the experience of attending a live concert apart from merely listening to the audio of that very same concert after the fact is the immediacy one gleans from actually "being there". If you've never been to a rock and roll concert I couldn't expect you to understand that of which I speak. There's nothing quite like being packed into a dark room (for even large stadiums are nothing more than rooms on 'roids) with hitherto fore strangers all fixed on a shared focal point while bright, rhythmically pulsating lights and music played just below the pain threshold assault your senses. And if you've just so happened to ingest any mind altering substances before hand... whew... as Joe Pesci said in Goodfellas... fugedaboutid...

How then could any recording of that event ever hope to match the actual experience. There are certain flaws inherent to just about any professionally captured live recording. Leave the sound too raw, capture exactly what was available to be captured at the event and you might be setting yourself up for failure. Vocals might be to low, or be to muddy. Guitars could be out of tune. Drums could be buried in the mix. One way or t'other it could add up to disaster.

On the flipside, live recordings can also be mixed to within an inch of their life. Mixed so severely that any kind of power or artist spark that a truly great live performer might imbue it with is all but gone. Over produced to the point that you may as well be listening to a re-recorded studio version of the songs. Which is a cardinal sin in my books. Keep in mind that I grew up listening to bootleg recordings of live shows by my favorite bands. Bootlegs are, by and large, the antithesis of most professional live recordings. I'm happy to report that 12 Gardens Live preserves a more than adequate balance between a live concert sound and the type of sound that most record company types with potential dollar signs floating before their eyes almost universally insist upon.

I highly recommend this disc. Of course it doesn't sound like the studio versions of these songs. If you want to listen to the studio versions, the tried and true comfort that intimate familiarity imbues a song with then... well, listen to the damn studio version of the songs and leave live music to those that truly appreciate it's differences.

This recording has been called an "official" bootleg, a trend in music that owes more than just a casual nod to all those industrious folks who provided the hardcore fans with what they really wanted... more product from their favorite artists.

Like any good bootleg, songs are sometimes overlooked on the credits but are
on the disc none the less. Witness the uncredited version of "Draw The Line" which was tacked onto Aerosmith's take on the old James Brown standard "Mother Popcorn" on their "Live! Bootleg" release. In that self same vein there are two additional uncredited tracks on "12 Gardens Live" (one on each disc). Once the final strains of "Laura" on disc one have faded out the listener is treated to a rocking version of "A Room Of Our Own". Likewise, the emotional take on "And So It Goes" is followed up by a ruckus "It's Still Rock And Roll To Me".

Disc One: Angry Young Man / My Life / Everybody Loves You Now / Billy The Kid / The Entertainer / Vienna / New York State of Mind / The Night is Still Young / Zanzibar / Miami 2017 / The Great Wall of China / Allentown / She's Right on Time / Don't Ask Me Why / Laura / A Room Of Our Own (not listed)

Disc Two: Goodnight Saigon / Movin' Out (Anthony's Song) / An Innocent Man / The Downeaster "Alexa" /Always A Woman / Keeping the Faith / River of Dreams / A Matter of Trust / We Didn't Start the Fire / Big Shot / You May Be Right / Only The Good Die Young / Scenes From an Italian Restaurant / Piano Man / And So it Goes / It's Still Rock And Roll To Me (not listed)

2006-10-10T11:28:00.001-05:00

We Be Wired...

Originally published on aardvarksaattic.com on Wednesday, September 6, 2006

No longer merely content to follow in the footsteps of other major metropolitan cities Toronto has embarked upon a pilot project which will, ultimately, see the entire city blanketed in wireless internet bliss.

Toronto Hydro, one of the few utilities that already have the basic infrastructure in place, today launched a six month free trial period for wall to wall wireless internet connection for everyone and anyone who live, work or play in Toronto’s downtown city core. From Front Street to the south to Queen Street to the north and Spadina Avenue all the way east to Church Street. As of today you are all covered. You and anyone else who chooses to spend any amount of time in that xx mile square grid.

Over the next three years Toronto Hydro hope to stretch this self same blanket to include all of the Greater Metropolitan Toronto Area; but the service will only be free for the aforementioned six month period. Meaning that those fortunate enough to live, work or play within the selected coverage zone will be the only ones eligible to partake of this freebie.

For the rest of us, depending upon when the service is extended into our own neighborhoods, we are pretty much shit out of luck.

In the grand tradition of drug dealers everywhere following the initial taste a rate of $29 a month, $10 a day or $5 an hour will apply.

Still, the concept intrigues. Too be able to travel anywhere and everywhere in this wondrous city of ours and remain connected the whole time? The very thought invites shivers to tingle up and down my spine. Then again, I’m a bit of a geek. If I wasn’t, would I actually have a web presence of any kind? My point exactly.

So, for this to work a couple of things are going to have to happen. First and foremost, Toronto Hydro are going to have to convince a goodly number of people that being able to seamlessly travel around the city and remain wired is a luxury that they just can’t live without. In theory, you could be traveling on a street car, trucking along Queen Street from Kingston Road right the way out to xxxxx all the while emailing Natasha or IM’ing Roxy. Or downloading the latest hit by “Fiddy Cent”. Sorry, that just kind of slipped out; I, of course, meant downloading the latest hit by “Aerosmith”. That should in no way shape or form count towards the previously expressed criteria for you to pop a cap into my oh so sorry lily white ass, alright?

Now where was I. Right; a pretty inviting concept if you are the wired type. But how many of us are there, really?

Secondly, and potentially more importantly, what kind of thru put should we expect from this? I have been around long enough to remember when the now painfully slow process of watching a screen refresh line by line at 300 bps was still a miracle to behold; the whole idea that I was able to remotely connect to anything. But that feeling of awe is long gone. I’m now at the point where a slow high speed connection is frustration incarnate, regardless of the fact that a slow high speed connection is still faster than dial up.

Ultimately, I think this will be the litmus test for this emerging technology. If you build it fast, they will come. If you build it and it operates at a snails pace, probably not so much.

Either way, Toronto will definitely have a leg up on, well, pretty much anywhere else in North America with this far reaching scheme. We will stand on our own.

Personally, I can hardly wait. These days not being wired makes me feel I am not being all that I possibly could be. Regardless of how much I may use this service, the fact that it will be there waiting for me should I choose to is more than enough to satisfy

But it’s gotta be a pisser, ya know…

If you want to find out more about this initiative you can check it out here, here or here.

2006-10-10T11:20:00.000-05:00

Dawson College, Montreal, Quebec, September 11, 2006

Originally published on aardvarksaattic.com Tuesday, September 12, 2006

So, another poor, misguided soul has decided that life wasn’t giving him all that he felt it owed him in expedient enough fashion. Hard done by, all on his own (except, of course, for his mother), what does this hero decide his best course of action is? Why, arm himself to the teeth, head downtown to Montreal’s Dawson College and start ruining or ending the lives of a multitude of other young people his age in a rain of terror and hail of bullets which, while brief in geological terms, must certainly have been the longest 15 minutes of these poor unfortunates lives.

I have always felt a kind of abstract pity for anyone who has come to the brink of suicide and, staring it down, leapt, crept or shuffled over it’s, at the time, oh so inviting precipice. Hell, all but the most well adjusted of us have come to within shouting distance of the act, haven’t we? Even if the thought of suicide didn’t consciously enter our minds. There but for the grace of God and all that.

What has always fried my ass about this type of freak is their need, their obsession with taking other people with them. My life is shit, goodness knows it can’t be my fault that I have wound up where I am so I must hunt down those at who’s feet the blame must surely rest and punish them. Never mind the fact that these sick fucks may not have even know the individuals upon whom they take out their “vengeance”.

Listen, growing up is all about feeling different, feeling under appreciated, feeling alone. Don’t you think that even the most popular of youngsters feel that pressure, that alienation. Not that they would ever own up to it at the time. Hell, not that they would ever necessarily own up to it as an adult either. That’s one of the reasons shrinks make as good a living as they do. It all comes down to the way that you deal with these feelings. If everyone who felt alienated, misunderstood and alone took up arms, well, let’s put it this way; I’m sure the daily commute to work would be one hell of a lot less crowded.

I myself have listened to a number of the same bands that this jack ass listened to. Ozzy, Black Sabbath, Metallica. I’ve listened to and even sang myself “Sympathy for the Devil” by The Rolling Stones.. I’ve played first person shooters on my computer by the score. Shit, I even consider “Stephen King” to be one of the greatest writers of our time. I’ve watched “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre”, “The Exorcist” and “There’s Something About Mary”. And do I feel like going out and mowing down a bunch of complete and utter strangers? Or friends for that matter. I think not.

The argument that any or all of these factors have caused sickos like this asshole to go over the edge is weak at best. If it wasn’t a Metallica song, a Stephen King novel or an undercooked burger at Burger King it would be something, anything else. Remember “The Son of Sam”? He killed people ostensibly because his next door neighbors dog told him to. So don’t even go there with me, o.k.?

The worse thing is this bloody freak of nature left clues. Clues; hell, he left big fucking neon signs, all over the place. Cries for help you say? Maybe. But I ask you, what kind of help is there for someone whose best friend is a semi automatic weapon.

I get pissed off enough as it is at people who feel they are at wits end and need to end it all who then jump in front of subways or off bridges in front of cars, Nothing like scarring others for life by their thoughtlessness, is there. Self centered jerks. Maybe it is a cry for help. God knows I am no psychologist. But if you are going to do yourself in, then do it in private. Don’t make anyone else the instrument of your destruction. It’s bad enough that, killing themselves in private, loved ones are more likely than not to be the ones who find them. Preferably laying around for a month or two in a closed room in the sweltering heat so their bodies can be nice and ripe I’m sure.

There is an article on the canoe.ca website titled “Shootings Likely To Rekindle Gun Control Debate”. Gee, do you figure? I mean, why was this twisted individual able to get hold of the arsenal that he made his fateful trip with? Fine, I understand there are any number of responsible gun owners, enthusiasts and farmers who consider it their right to own firearms. But let me ask you this. Outside of the military, who the hell NEEDS a fully automatic weapon. AK-47’s, Uzi’s, and Baretta CX4 Storm semi-automatic rifles such as this bozo came armed with. Never mind the term semi automatic; even I can leave off this piece, head out on the internet and be back in under five minutes with instructions on how to turn any semi-automatic weapon into the fully automatic kind.

The only thing that fully automatic weapons are made for is killing people. Either that or killing off entire species of animals at one go.

I’ve gone out of my way not to mention this dip shit’s name, nor the name of the site where he had his blog which included a photo of a tombstone with his own name on it with the caption “Lived Fast, Died Young, Left a Mangled Corpse”. If you are so inclined you will be able to find these tidbits out for yourself. Me, this is about as much time as I am willing to afford this psychopath.

My thoughts, prayers and condolences go out to those killed, injured and scarred by this senseless act of violence.

While I hope that something like this never happens again I realize that it is folly at best and blind ignorance at worst to expect such.

In this day and age, it is only, sadly, a matter of time…