Lex on Noel Gallagher (Oasis)

I used to have a recurring dream in which I am running down a dark alley at full speed, consumed with anger and intent on clubbing and head-butting the first thing that gets in my way.  And coming from the opposite direction?  Noel Gallagher, who pretty much has the same idea.

The dream ends with what I can only describe as a “broken-bottle back-alley brawl” of major proportion.

My very first taste of Oasis came sometime during the summer of ‘94 when my Aunt Ava stopped by my place for a few minutes one day with a videotape of her “latest musical discovery.”  She said, “I found this band last night on MTV.  They’re great!  I automatically thought you might like them.  They’re called Oasis.  The lead singer and his brother are cute, and they sound like ‘grunge plus Beatles.’  I’m going out to find their album.  See you later.”

She’d been taping MTV’s more alternative music shows, and came across 5 geezers on a rooftop singing what appeared to be lyrical nonsense sewn to a rhythmic sound that was smooth and sharp as a scalpel.  The song was called “Supersonic,” and it is still a wonderful piece of songwriting, arranging, and production.

(Sidebar: Ava has an uncanny knack for picking “the next hot band.”  Her percentage is so high that it even scares me.  Ava has predicted the success of the Police, the Pretenders, U2, Duran Duran, most of the popular 80s new wave bands you’ve actually heard of, Culture Club, Soundgarden, Nirvana, Alice In Chains, and Pearl Jam.)

I placed Ava’s tape into the machine.  The video for “Supersonic” was already cued and ready to go.  The sound of the song had an immediate impact on my musical brain.  It was sound that was brutally genteel, and arrogant.  It had a Stones-y swagger that made me bop up and down for the duration of the song.  I watched the video several times and repeatedly took in the impact of “Supersonic.”

Eventually, I heard their debut, Definitely Maybe.  My cassette copy stayed in my car’s tape player for almost an entire year. I found song after song uplifting and inspiring.  I was in awe of the sound, the production, and Oasis’ songwriter, Noel Gallagher.

I was jealous as hell.  I mean, here was this guy just one year older than me, writing the material I wanted to write, saying the things I wanted to say, and playing in the best band in the world.  It drove me absolutely buggy.  And the bugginess repeated itself when Ava loaned me a fresh copy of their second album, (What’s The Story) Morning Glory.  The music was at once heavenly and cocksure.  “Roll With It,” “Wonderwall,” “Don’t Look Back In Anger,” and “Champagne Supernova” shifted my musical confidence to a new high.

Be Here Now.  I bought it the day it came out, and played it a few times.  The album, as it turned out, was the result of a gigantic cocaine rave up and was marginal.  I should have known something was afoot with the band; I found it hard to remember song titles, melodies, and was kinda put off by the monstrous length of some of the songs.

I really began taking apart Noel’s writing after I purchased an album of B-sides called The Masterplan.  I found songs not previously issued in the States (”Acquiesce,” “The Masterplan,” and a smokin’ version of “I Am The Walrus”) that were equal to, or even better than, some of their most famous songs.  I also found a bunch of songs with Noel’s vocals that just sent me “right back to school.”

(Sidebar:  My favorite “Noel” song is called “It’s Better People.”  Originally the B-side to the British single “Roll With It,” it’s still the best acoustic song of the 90s.  Period.  Seek it out – you will not be disappointed.)

Noel’s songwriting catalog is a treasure trove of songs, musical ideas, and inspiration.  Dig the opening track from Standing On The Shoulder of Giants called “F–king In The Bushes.”  It’s an uncompromising “sound collage” of Noel’s hypnotic music and dialogue from the film of the 1970 Isle of Wight concert.  Awesome, and awe inspiring.

Oasis continues to put out an album of songs every couple of years.  I still buy their music, mainly to see what Noel has been writing and playing.  I am still a big fan of the band, but I am a bigger fan of Noel Gallagher’s amazing talents as a songwriter, musician and vocalist.

(Lex Neon is also known as Alex Oliver, the quirky and often eccentric musical genius of “sunshine pop / rock” band Poppermost.  Check out their music and Lex’s rock rantings at http://www.poppermost.com).

Please note: The Masterplan was originally released November 3, 1998.

Lex on Donovan

“I Love My Shirt” was the title of the very first song I heard by Scottish singer-songwriter Donovan.  It was September 1974, and I was into my first experience away from home – kindergarten.  My teacher, Mrs. Ganoux, was a music fan, and a bit of a hippie (she even encouraged me to paint a white rabbit during art-time).

She must have figured out that music tends to soothe savage 4-year-olds.  During class sing-along-time, she’d play Donovan records.  She’d teach us the chorus (so that everyone could sing together at the appropriate time), play the record, and we’d all sing.  It was fun and “I Love My Shirt” was my favorite song to sing.

(Sidebar: “I Love My Shirt” can be found on Donovan’s Barabajagal album from 1969, along side other greats like “Atlantis,” “To Susan, On The West Coast Waiting,” and the rockin’ title track, co-starring the Jeff Beck Group!)

“Wear Your Love Like Heaven,” one of Donovan’s biggest hits, was another favorite of mine.  The sound of that song still takes me back to the smell of paint, glue, and paste.  I wouldn’t hear this great Donovan track again until years later on my local L.A. “oldies” station KRTH, 101.1 FM (aka “K-Earth”).

K-Earth had something called a “Super Set 60s Weekend,” and played a 30-minute block of Donovan’s music.  I heard a song called “Epistle to Dippy,” and went absolutely bananas.  I had to have THAT song in my collection.  I quickly visited Record Retreat (my local record shop, as well as the BEST record store ever).  Along with a copy of The Hollies’ Greatest Hits, I purchased Donovan’s Greatest Hits album from 1969.

The album would stay on my turntable for about a month, and I would listen to it as I dressed for junior high school.

Besides “Epistle To Dippy,” there was “Mellow Yellow,” “Jennifer Juniper,” “Season Of The Witch,” “Sunshine Superman,” and a lot of other songs I heard on the radio.  There were also some “updated” versions of earlier songs like “Colours” and “Catch The Wind,” that were more lengthy and “jammy” that I thought were just as good as the originals.

(Sidebar: The later versions of “Colours” and “Catch The Wind” are no longer available on the expanded CD version of Donovan’s Greatest Hits album.  The originals take their place, which is kinda sad to my music mind – the later versions fit the overall album better.)

It was at this time that I turned into a record junkie.

I started making lists of 60’s records to find during my weekend record shop hunts.  I left one of these lists in a school folder, and left the folder in my 9th grade World History class.  These lists were found by my teacher, Ms. Beck (aka Harriet, aka Hara, aka Momma B).  She asked if the lists were part of a project for my English class.  I told her that I was searching for Donovan records.

She looked at the list (written with horrible teenage scrawl) and said, “Well, I have this one, this one, that one, and I should still have this one if I didn’t lose it during the divorce.” She also offered to loan me her out-of-print Donovan discs so I could transfer them to cassette.

Harriet had original copies of albums like What It Is (a compilation of early Donovan on the old Hickory label) Sunshine Superman and Mellow Yellow, which featured the pop hits, plus album tracks that were innovative, ingenious, and meticulously textured blending of disparate genres such as jazz and folk and rock (not to mention medieval, Indian, and Caribbean music).

And he’s even the co-vocalist on “Billion Dollar Babies” by Alice Cooper.  How cool is that?  Very!

May 10th finds Donovan celebrating another year of life.  Happy birthday, Donovan!  Thanks for giving me some of the music from which I sprang; thanks for the drive to discover more about the decade from which I sprang; and thanks for my connection to Momma B, from which a fairly large chunk of my “musical self” sprang.

Yet again, another sidebar: I have a wall that is dedicated to album cover art.  Within the display’s checkerboard pattern, you will find Harriet’s original copy of Mellow Yellow.  If you haven’t seen the cool pop art on the front of the cover (or that cool shot of young Donovan sporting his white Edwardian double-breasted jacket), check it out sometime.  It inspires!

Please note: the original release date of Mellow Yellow is March, 1967.

(Lex Neon is also known as Alex Oliver, the quirky and often eccentric musical genius of “sunshine pop / rock” band Poppermost.  Check out their music and Lex’s rock rantings at http://www.poppermost.com/).

Currently listening: Mellow Yellow By Donovan

Lex on James Brown

James Brown.

My god that was one dynamic ride, wasn’t it?  It’s hard to rattle off the song titles without your body and neck wanting to move in ways that defy motion.  “Cold Sweat” was where it started.  The grand design of funk can be traced back to that one genre-defining song.  Sure, before “Cold Sweat” was “Papa’s Got A Brand New Bag”, “Out of Sight,” and “I Got You (I Feel Good).”  Great songs, to be sure.  But with “Sweat” came a new direction and energy that was released in 1968 – a new and soulful message that spoke to “every brother on the corner,” and beyond.

His face was on the records.

Before I could read, I could place a vinyl 45 RPM record on a turntable.  I learned the difference between the songs by identifying the record’s label.  James Brown records were always easy for me to find because his face was right there on the label.  Once I saw JB’s face, I knew that it was time to  “make it funky.”

The first James Brown songs that come to my mind are “Mother Popcorn,” and “Hot Pants, Pt. 1.”  I remember being a very small child when “Hot Pants” was Brown’s current slab of funk.  You couldn’t get away from the infectiousness of the whole James Brown vibe that resonated in his music.  Every instrument was doing something that was melodic, deceptively simple, and rhythmic.

And it made you dance!

There was nothing like watching the older girls in my old neighborhood dancing to a James Brown record.   The music was a great uniter.  On my block, we were Black and White, Latino and Asian, Jewish and Armenian, Panthers and Hippies.  When we all danced together to “the Godfather of Soul” during those summer block parties, there was a communal feeling of togetherness.

His music always seemed, for lack of a better word, “right.”  I’m not one for getting into the personal aspects of his long and storied life – that’s best left to some biographer that feels the need to stray from the story of his song.  If you want to know who James Brown is, or want a good jumping off place for funk, try Brown’s material from ‘67 to ‘74.  Some of my personal favorites include:

1.  “Hot Pants, Pt. 1″ – It might just be the memories associated with this song, but this one is right at the top of the list.  Dig James Brown’s name check of some dances we used to do back in the day on “Hot Pants;” “the Chicken,” and the “Funky Broadway.”  Feel the tight rhythms bouncing off of each other as each sound contributes to one powerful and funky groove.  For me, the part of this song that “makes sense” comes in at 2 minutes, 26 seconds when the horns break into a syncopated, melodic riff that drives home the point.

2.  “Mother Popcorn” – This song comes darn close to challenging “Pants” for first position.  With a propulsive beat, riffin’ horns, and guitar and bass lines that snake their way around your inner sense of rhythm, this was one of the best songs that heralded a new, improved funky James Brown back in the later part of the 1960s.  Included in the song is a great solo by sax great and noted JB sideman Maceo Parker.  (note: includes JB’s trademark screams, yelps and hollers.  JB was advised later by doctors not to scream, for fear that he might rupture a vessel in his head.)

3.  “(Get Up! I Feel Like A) Sex Machine” – “GIT ON UP!!”  Okay, it’s safe to assume that if this classic bit of funky rhythm and blues doesn’t excited someone within the first 10 seconds, you may have to take their pulse.  Nuff said?

4.  “Papa Don’t Take No Mess” – Understood to the fullest by the rare two-parent household, but those lyrics applied to the single moms and dads in the ‘hood, too.

Papa didn’t cuss,
He didn’t raise a whole lotta fuss,
But when we did wrong,
Papa beat the hell out of us!

5.  “The Payback” – Revenge in 7 minutes and 29 seconds!  This is one of JB’s prime examples of what made him the “Soul Brother Number One.”  It’s got all the goods, including a great storyline about infidelity.  Not exactly the way I would go about solving the problems of a cheating spouse, but what a hell of a great dance tune.

So, when you get a chance, invite over some friends for a little dinner and conversation.  Put on some JB, and watch their faces light up with memories and an inner groove that makes them move in unbelievable ways.

May 3 marks what would have been JB’s 76th birthday.  So, treat yourself to some of his tunes, git on up, and stay on the scene.

(Lex Neon is also known as Alex Oliver, the quirky and often eccentric musical genius of “sunshine pop / rock” band Poppermost.  Check out their music and Lex’s rock rantings at http://www.poppermost.com).

Currently listening: Star Time (4CD) By James Brown Release date: 1991-05-07

Lex on Mickey Dolenz (The Monkees)

One of my most prized possessions is an autographed copy of Mickey Dolenz’s book, I’m A Believer.  My Aunt Ava scored the book for me while I was practicing for my band’s debut at the prestigious Roxy Theater in Hollywood.  To this day, I show off the book when the subject of the Monkees comes up.

Even before I started school, I would watch the Monkees’ television show.  When the Monkees would suddenly burst into song, I would use pencils to drum on the family furniture.  For me, Mickey’s character on the show was quick-witted, heart felt, funny, and just plain fun.  His improvised antics, as well as the songs, are still fun for me all these years later on DVD.

Just a few of my favorite Mickey Dolenz vocals include the following:

1.  “Take A Giant Step” – From the Monkees debut album in late ‘66, this Goffin-King pop gem utilizes Mickey’s gift for a vocal that really connects to the listener.  Mickey bobs and weaves the song’s counter melodies to great effect in the bridges and choruses, while the music supplies a really neat backdrop of musical sounds.  Hearing it today, I still get goosebumps.

2.  “Mary Mary” -  This groovy piece of “mountain funk,” written by fellow Monkee, Mike Nesmith, comes from their album, More of the Monkees.  Mickey’s hypnotic vocals just grab the ears, and don’t let up until the end of the song with the manic and energetic cries of “Mary, where ya goin’ to.”  James Brown must have been proud of Mickey’s imitation.

(Sidebar:  Just to think that the Monkees actually released 3 albums in 1967, and gave the Beatles and the Stones a run for their money.  What group could actually do that today?)

3.  “Randy Scouse Git” – from Headquarters.  This is one of Mickey’s many stand-out moments as a singer, as well as composer and drummer.  His lyrics are like poetry, very much like John Lennon and Bob Dylan during this period.  His vocals beautifully show off the contrast of soft-singing balladeer to full-tilt, note-perfect howl.  Dig those beautiful tympanis through out the song!

4.  “Pleasant Valley Sunday” and “Words” (a tie) – Both of these cool pop tunes come from the band’s fourth release, Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn and Jones Ltd. Both songs have that certain wail that Mickey gets before he heads into a highly intense chorus.  They are well-written songs that are sung with great depth and emotion.  “Pleasant Valley Sunday” does indeed have that groovy “psycho-jello” ending, but “Words” has that dramatic reading of the final bridge and chorus that makes a great vocal statement.

5.  “As We Go Along” – Hardcore Monkees fans got to hear this song the first time around when it was issued as part of the soundtrack for the Monkees movie Head.  By the time this song came around, the original television show was canceled, and their music had lost its main “platform.”  I finally heard this lost pop classic, penned by Carole King and Toni Stern, in the mid-80s, when the soundtrack and movie were re-released.  I believe that this is Mickey’s best vocal.  He even admits that it was a bitch to sing this oddly metered number.  But the single vocal is absolutely gorgeous.  This song is highly recommended by me.

And there you have only a few of my favorite Mickey Dolenz vocal performances.  I purposely left out “Last Train to Clarksville,” and “I’m a Believer,” because, well, you know about those classic vocals.  Honorary shout-outs to “(I’m Not Your) Stepping Stone,” “Mr. Webster,” “Sometime In The Morning,” and “Shorty Blackwell” (another Dolenz composition).

Anyone care to chime in with their favorite Mickey Monkees track?

(Lex Neon is also known as Alex Oliver, the quirky and often eccentric musical genius of “sunshine pop / rock” band Poppermost.  Check out their music and Lex’s rock rantings at http://www.poppermost.com).

(Please note: the original release date of Headquarters is May 22, 1967.)

Currently listening: Headquarters (Deluxe Edition, 2 CD) By The Monkees

Lex on The Grateful Dead (The Grateful Dead, 1967)

And it was on Saint Patrick’s Day in 1967 when the Dead’s debut album was released.  As I type this, I’m listening to the album to see what it captures in my mind.

Sometime in summer of ‘84, I taped an episode of “Goodnight L.A. Videos” that celebrated the music of the 60s.  One of the things I caught on tape was a short film called “Grateful Dead,” credited to Robert Nelson, 1968.

The 60s type experimental nature of the film caught my eye, but it was the accompanying score was complicated.  It was a chaotic mess of bad edits of what turned out to be two really great songs from the Dead’s 1967 debut, aptly titled The Grateful Dead.

Turns out, the Dead’s Warner Brothers debut happens to be my favorite Dead album.

Sure, the songs aren’t yet lyrically sophisticated as those from Workingman’s Dead and American Beauty.  For me, the Dead’s first album has a certain youthful and gung-ho “electricity,” if you will.  Dig the tune, “Beat It On Down The Line.”  The band is blindingly fast-paced, and rhythmically they click.  It’s blues, country, and bluegrass soaked in youth and experimentation.  It’s fun to listen to, and makes me groove.  The opening track, “The Golden Road (To Unlimited Devotion)” is a brilliant piece of “grateful pop” that welcomes the listener into the blisteringly up tempo world of the Dead in early ‘67.

There’s also “Sittin’ On Top Of The World,” the Dead’s hyperbolic and blinding take on blues guru Howlin’ Wolf.  This was one of the two songs that was badly edited to fit the feel and time of that “experimental” late 60s film by Nelson film I had.  What I found was a good springboard to show off the unit’s musical chops up to this point.  Bill Kreutzmann and Phil Lesh provide a jazzy rhythmic groove underneath Pigpen’s Farfisa organ, Bob Weir’s solid guitar support, and Garcia’s bluesy solos.  (These guitar solos are among my favorite of all time, and were the inspiration for the guitar solos in the Poppermost song “Wake Up, Tell Me.”)

(Sidebar: The Grateful Dead, later re-issued in an expanded version on Rhino Records, features the fully recorded version of “Sittin’ On Top Of The World.” With an extra 45 seconds of the Dead’s locomotive musical interplay, including a soulful blues solo by Garcia, it’s worth more than the price of admission.)

“Cream Puff War” is an awesome piece of “grateful punk.”  Tempo changes set around the song’s chorus shows the band’s penchant for odd time signatures; in this way, they were like the jazzers of a bygone era.  It’s also evident in the 10-minute plus track “Viola Lee Blues.”  This turned out to be a pivotal song for me in that I began accepting Jerry Garcia as one of my favorite guitarists.  His flair for licks based in blues, country, and bluegrass created broader musical paths to follow as a player and a fan of music.

“Viola Lee Blues” was also the other song in Nelson’s flick that was chaotically edited.  Away from its form as “musical cabbage” in the short film, it’s a testament to their early improvisational skills.  The way that the song snakes its way from slow tempo prison dirge to psychedelic rave up, and back to prison dirge makes for a fantastic ride.

Many legends surround this album.  The guys in the Dead have said that the album was “recorded too early,” and that they had “no record consciousness” when their debut album was recorded.  The speed of the songs’ tempos are blamed on diet pills, pot, and whatever else the young musicians were ingesting.  It may be so, but it makes for a fascinating view of a band that would continue creating a sound that never seems to go far away from repeated listening.

There would be more albums after their first, and each would cover a plethora of musical ideas and territories.  That first album captures an early snapshot of their collective, kinetic energy.  It’s not exactly the one album that springs up when the Dead recordings are discussed, but their first album really does it for my musical ear.

(Lex Neon is also known as Alex Oliver, the quirky and often eccentric musical genius of cyber “sunshine pop / rock” band Poppermost.  Check out their music and Lex’s rock rantings at http://www.poppermost.com).

(Note: This recording was originally released March 17, 1967)

Currently listening: Grateful Dead By Grateful Dead

Lex on Rod Stewart (Every Picture Tells A Story)

I’m not going to “trash” Rod Stewart.

A lot of people get the impression that I go out on a limb to say nasty things about Rod’s music after a certain point.  I will admit that I did have the 45 RPM single of “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy.”  I will also admit that I played it, more than a few times.  But I don’t think it’s any where near his best work.

By the time I became aware of my surroundings in ‘71, Rod Stewart was a bona fide rock and roll star.  His raspy baritone was on AM radio 24 hours a day.  You could not escape the sound of “Maggie May.”  It remains a beautiful composition, as well as a stellar recording of an artist and his sidemen at the peak of their powers.  To this day, I will sit though “Maggie May” whereas I will not sit through “Sexy,” ifI can help it.

During all of the hoopla surrounding Rod’s career in the late 70s, I picked up one of his early “greatest hits” albums, primarily for “Maggie May.”  I rediscovered the atmosphere of that recording, and wondered what the song’s “parent album” sounded like.  I walked up to Record Retreat, just across from USC campus, and purchased my first copy of Every Picture Tells A Story.  According to some of the reviews and articles I read on the then 8-year old album, it was supposed to be”a high point in his early career.”

It wasn’t a high point – it was THE high point.  It was also the album by which I would judge all other Rod Stewart albums, which I admit isn’t fair.  It just “is.”

From the title track that opens the album to the minor hit single”Reason To Believe” (whose B-side, which disc jockeys preferred to play, was “Maggie May”) that ends the album, Every Picture Tells A Story was a stunner of an album.  It highlighted all of the things that made Rod Stewart a household name.  On this record, Rod touched on folk, rock, soul, country and blues.  He made the genres his own, and took his listeners on a sonic journey that left us wanting more.

His take on the Temptations classic “(I Know I’m) Losing You” combines soul and rock, and made me a believer.  The drum solo by Kenny Jones (who was also the drummer for the Faces, the band that Rod sang lead for at the time) just makes you want to get up and boogie.  His cover of Arthur Crudup’s “That’s Alright, Mama” matches the intensity of Elvis Presley’s version, and goes a step beyond.  The same can be said of his version of Bob Dylan’s “Tomorrow Is A Long Time.”

Track by track, the layers are peeled to see the inner workings of a brilliant artist.  His band on this particular album (Ron Wood, Ian MacLagan, Mick Waller, Pete Sears. etc.) all turn in stellar performances as though their lives depended on it.  You can hear the whole band enjoying the experience, which makes this album fun for anyone who really loves music.

I’ll admit it – I have said that Rod’s music loses a lot of steam after’76.  The intensity was gone for me.  The songwriting didn’t touch meas much.  By the time the 80s rolled around, I thought that he was trading water, and living on that reputation that he earned in the late60s with the Jeff Beck Group and the 70s with the Faces and his exceptional solo material.  A lot of people will argue the point;that’s their right.

Rod’s released 4 volumes of “The Great American Songbooks.”  He’s also released an album where he covers some of the great American rock tunes of the past 40 years.  If you really want to hear him sing, pick up Every Picture Tells A Story and listen to his cover of “Amazing Grace.”  Absolutely fab!  If you want a damn-near perfect love song,listen to him cover Tim Hardin’s “Reason To Believe.”  In short, if you want to hear the music that put him on the radar, seek out this album -you’ll be glad you did.

January 10 find Rod “the Mod” getting another year older.  If he never recorded another note, we’d still have his classic albums, and then some!  Happy birthday, Rod.  I may criticize you a lot more harshly than I would others, but only because you touched my soul when you are at your very best.  I wouldn’t want you to make another Every Picture, but it sure would be nice to hear you having fun at your craft again.  Much love to you.

(Note: the album below was originally released in May 1971)

Currently listening: Every Picture Tells a Story By Rod Stewart

Lex on Led Zeppelin (Led Zeppelin III)

“Out On The Tiles.”

Of all of my favorite Led Zeppelin tunes, this one would have to rank at number one.  Like a lot of Led Zeppelin songs, this one makes me strut back and forth like a rooster on the prowl.  The best songs by this classic rock band makes me feel a certain, intangible something that makes me want to live life to the fullest at full-throttle.

The same can be said about Led Zeppelin III.  When I discovered this album back in the early 80s, the band had already come to its end.  Bonham had passed on, Jones was taking a break, Plant had  released his first solo album, and Page was doing soundtrack work. Nothing that they were doing at that point was as good as the music they played together in the previous decade.  Even after they called it quits, their legend ruled the  FM rock radio stations in Los Angeles. Even as a kid in the 70s, I knew when they were in town; and, of course, my mom would tell me that I was too young to attend their concerts.

George and Tony, two Latino “hard rock-loving” brothers in my junior high school class, were Zeppelin freaks.  In South Central L.A., these two were the “keepers of the flame.”  Through my aunt Ava, I heard the first two Zeppelin albums, as well as their fourth.  It was pretty great stuff for an aspiring guitarist (me) to hear.  When asked by George and Tony if I had heard the third album, I told them I had not. The next day, Tony handed me a cassette copy of the third Zeppelin album in second period.  “Here, man.  Let me know what you think tomorrow.”

I listened, and I have to admit that I just didn’t get it.  It sounded nothing like the first two albums, which were filled with blues-based rock gems, some acoustic parts, and lyrics that I could understand -after all, blues lyrics were written for “everyman.”  After repeated listens that night, I walked away with 4 favorites, and let the others rest for a few years.

“The Immigrant Song.”  Two-note rock riff, driving drums, and a wail that sounded like someone conquering the world.  It shook me, and made me sit up straight.

“Celebration Day” came close to the galloping, swaggering sound that I had come to know as Led Zeppelin.  It was the classic sound, period.

“Out On The Tiles” was instantly my favorite song on the album.  There was something in that song that meshed perfectly with my musical brain.  It made sense.

“Bron-Y-Aur Stomp.”  I fell in love with “Thank You” from the second album, as well as “You’re Time Is Going To Come” from the first.  I could understand that Zep’s acoustic music could convey a strong message without turning up the volume and pressing the electric. ”Stomp” was fun to listen to, and the solo acoustic passages were fun to attempt on my first acoustic guitar.

It would be another 6 years when I finally got the full impact of Led Zeppelin III. I was a different person at 19 than I was at 13.  I could take in “the different.”  I started replacing my Zeppelin vinyl with new-fangled CDs, and I bought them in order and played the hell out of each one until I bought the next.  When I revisited Led Zeppelin III, it all started to make sense.

After those first two albums, Page and Plant went to the country to write.  It gave their music an emotional depth and power that would not have existed if they stayed in a London recording studio.  With no running water or electricity in their rented cottage, they were forced to go acoustic.  This was the Zeppelin album where Plant would start to become a formidable writing partner, tackling lyrics that went beyond his recycling the blues.  Dig “That’s The Way.”  There is very little on the first two albums that indicate that his lyrics were heading in a different direction.

Page, who originally started out as an acoustic guitar player in his early teens, creates some of the most moving acoustic arrangements to come out of rock music.  “Gallows Pole” still moves, bobs, and weaves its way through the minds of many guitarists today.  “Tangerine,” one of the most beautiful and moving pieces on the album, was one of the first songs that made me think, “I gotta buy the Zeppelin song book to play this correctly.  Playing this one by ear is an injustice to the writers.”  And so, I did.

So after 6 years, I finally got it.  And Led Zeppelin III would be the most played Zep album in my collection.  It’s not just “Zeppelin goes acoustic.”  It’s the sound of Zeppelin growing into the powerhouse band that would give listeners some of the most compelling and challenging music of all time.  And if that weren’t enough, this is the Zeppelin album that made it all the way to #30 in what was then called “Billboard’s Black Album Chart.”  Yes, even the brothers in the ‘hood were down with these funky English cats, man.

(Sidebar:  Turns out that Rolling Stone Magazine didn’t like this Zeppelin album.  They didn’t like the two that came before it, or the five that came after it.  When I discovered this fact, I started buying all of the albums that the magazine would pan; often I was delighted with my choices.)

January 9th finds Jimmy Page getting one year older.  I’d like to say thanks to Jimmy for being a prime inspiration in the development of my being a guitarist.  For my money, he is the true “riff-meister.”  Happy birthday Jimmy!  Next time you’re out in Vegas, I invite you to my place.  I’ll cook Italian if you’d show me how to play that sweet,opening solo from “Since I’ve Been Loving You.”

(One more sidebar: Will someone get smart enough to add “Hey, Hey, What Can I Do” as a bonus track on this album?  It was the B-side of “The Immigrant Song,” after all.  And it’s a sweet track, to boot!)

(Please note:  This album was originally released on October 5, 1970)

Currently listening: Led Zeppelin III By Led Zeppelin

Lex on David Bowie (The Rise and Fall Of Ziggy Stardust and The Spiders From Mars)

Christmas 1980 – Lennon was just killed, and I was broken inside.  When there was no more Lennon music to buy, I used my birthday money to buy a copy of ChangesOneBowie, a greatest hits disc that covered Bowie’s career highlights from “Space Oddity” to “Golden Years.”  I got the disc mainly for “Fame,” a song that I used to like when I was a first grader five years before.  It was co-written by Lennon.  I guess I was looking for “the good ol’ days,” when I used to think that the world was a safer place.

On side 2 of ChangesOneBowie, there was the killer one-two combination of the songs “Ziggy Stardust” and “Suffragette City.”  One song slammed into the next without a gap, and the effect was brutal;  just the thing to make me tune into life again.  There were other great songs on that album, but these two songs were “it” for me.  It was wild, it was fun, it was weird, and it was righteous!

At the beginning of the 80s, the music of David Bowie was part of the air we breathed.  As pre-teens, Ava and I spent our allowances on anything and everything that had Bowie’s name on it.  It started with his then-current album, Scary Monsters . . . and Super Creeps.  The promo clip for “Ashes To Ashes” was on every music video show that existed on network television at that point in time, and we loved it. Ultimately, Ava bought a copy of Bowie’s The Rise and Fall Of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars sometime in March of ‘81.  She digested that album and handed it off to me for listening.  I, in turn, loaned her my new copy of Hunky Dory.

It would be another 5 years before she got Ziggy Stardust back in her personal collection.

The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars was the weirdest album I’d heard . . . ever.  the album was cinema, theatre, science fiction, comic books, and androgyny all rolled into one sonic blast of vinyl.  Sandwiched in between the drum fade-in of “Five Years” and the strings that ended “Rock and Roll Suicide,” was some of the most intriguing music in pop / rock music I had heard since the Beatles.  The one-two knock out punch of “Ziggy Stardust” and “Suffragette City” was put into a more meaningful context for me, and my “musical brain” would forever be changed.

“Moonage Daydream” seemed to re-invent the vocabulary of rock music for me.  The visuals that I got from the lyrics and music seemed to both make sense, and complete non-sense.  It was like listening to a Picasso painting.

I’m an alligator, I’m a mama-papa coming for you
I’m the space invader, I’ll be a rock ‘n’ rollin’ bitch for you
Keep your mouth shut,
you’re squawking like a pink monkey bird
And I’m busting up my brains for the words

Keep your ‘lectric eye on me babe
Put your ray gun to my head
Press your space face close to mine, love

Freak out in a moonage daydream oh yeah!

“Starman” was another song that I just could not get enough of.  It had a special kind of magic for my young ears, and quickly became the track on side 1 that was played more often than not.  The song stayed in my brain in school, and the “la-las” that end the chorus (as well as the song) was one of the first tunes that I picked out on the family piano.  “Hang Onto Yourself” was catchy, full-throttle rock and roll.  It took many listens to catch all of the words, and it would take years for me to decipher them.  But when I first heard it, the words didn’t matter; it was all about the heady feeling that I got.  It was like being on a roller coaster that was out of control.

Musically speaking, the other essential element of that album were the musicians.  Mick Ronson (guitars), Woody Woodmansey (drums), and Trevor Bolder (bass) were the Spiders.  For my money, they were also the best backing band that Bowie had, period.  There was a manic solidarity in their playing skills that made the sound of that album larger than life.  Bolder’s bass is loud in the mix, and he was one of the first bassists I noticed.  He didn’t merely follow the chord changes; he invented parts for himself that stood out in the songs.  Woody’s drumming was the pulse of the Spiders’ sound.  He provided just the right rhythmic foundation to songs like “Star,” “Lady Stardust,” and “Stone Love.”  Bowie would have many drummers after him, but for me Woody will always be the most sympathetic to the music.

Mick Ronson.  The name says it all.  He was the perfect foil for Bowie.  Every singer / songwriter who hopes to be a “rock god” needs someone who is a gifted, musical ally for his team.  Ronson could play in a reflective style that would enhance Bowie’s vocals.  He could also play in a style that was down and dirty rock and roll.  He also arranged the orchestral strings that gave Bowie’s best 70s work depth.  For me, he was the architect of the Spiders’ musical persona.

Ava and I would go on to buy a lot of Bowie material.  Together, we would own the bulk of his recorded catalog.  There would be albums that were good, bad, ugly, and great.  My school friends would finally accept Bowie and stop seeing him as “gay music” when he issued Let’s Dance only a few years after seeing him as “Ziggy” in the books I read.

Thing is, Bowie affected a lot of things that I would musically do later.  Listen to “Bitter Suite” by Poppermost, and you’ll here “Rock and Roll Suicide,” and a fair chunk of “Memory of a Free Festival”  If you look closely at Lex, you’ll see Ziggy.  If you hear my greeting to Royal (”Hey, man!”), you hear “Suffragette City.”  And if you listen to the variety of ingredients in Poppermost music, you hear the experimentation; it’s a product of Bowie, and others.

January 8th is David Bowie’s birthday.  Last year, I wrote about how he shifted the way I saw music when my neighborhood I saw him on “Soul Train” in the mid-70s.  This year, I wish to acknowledge his influence on the way I write music.  Happy birthday, David.  I’m still with you, man.  Thanks for Ziggy; your creation saved me from dwelling in my dark places, and changed my life.  Love on ya!

(Lex Neon is also known as Alex Oliver, the quirky and often eccentric musical genius of “sunshine pop / rock” band Poppermost.  Check out their music and Lex’s rock rantings at http://www.poppermost.com).

(Note: The album below was originally released June 6, 1972)

Currently listening : The Rise And Fall Of Ziggy Stardust By David Bowie

Lex on Pink Floyd (The Piper At The Gates of Dawn)

So, it’s Monday and I’m on my way to yet another job interview.  After the plethora of rejections in the “economically anemic” Vegas job market, I’m skeptical about landing a decent a job.  But, I do have Popperwork to do, including writing blogs.  While waiting for my bus (which is already 7 minutes late), I listen to some of Syd Barrett’s work with Pink Floyd.  Syd’s birthday lands on the 6th of this month, and I haven’t really reached out to touch his work in a long time.

Let there be no misunderstanding – Syd Barrett is the reigning king of 60s psychedelic Brit pop, and no one comes close.  The first Floyd singles, “Arnold Layne,” and the brilliant “See Emily Play,” blasts through my earphones, and I’m transported back to my first few days of high school.

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I can still see the look on my friend Gary’s face when I told him that I had never heard an early Pink Floyd track called “Bike.”  We were freshmen in high school, and he had heard that I was the other “music and record freak” that was running around Canoga Park High School.  We had a few classes together, and in between lectures on “grading procedure,” conversation turned to Pink Floyd, and their early musical output.

Gary had a great love for Pink Floyd’s 60s music, especially the songs of Syd Barrett.  When he discovered that I had never had access to the Floyd material written by Barrett, he responded with a stony silence.  I’ll never forget “the look,” and the conversation that started with, “You mean to tell me that you’ve never heard ‘Astronomy Domine?’ ‘See Emily Play?’ ‘Lucifer Sam?’ ‘Bike?’ And you call yourself a Floyd fan!” Then, he started singing gleefully.

I’ve got a bike
You can ride it, if you like
It’s got a basket, a bell that rings
And things to make it look good
I’d give it to you if I could,
But I borrowed it

The next day, he loaned me a very strange Pink Floyd double album compilation called A Nice Pair.  The set consisted of the first two Floyd albums; The Piper At The Gates of Dawn, and A Saucerful Of Secrets.  It might have been his way testing me, to see if he could trust me with his records.  In good faith, I loaned him a few books on Jim Morrison that I was reading at the time.

Almost as soon as I got home, I plopped the first disc, The Piper, onto the turntable.  Slowly, several voices, blips from a Farfisa organ, drums, and guitars arise in a sonic swirl of psychedelia from my speakers.  The sound was hypnotic enough that I stopped pulling books from my backpack.  I stood where I was, and took in my first experience of a Syd Barrett song called “Astronomy Domine.”

Lime and limpid green, a second scene
A fight between the blue you once knew.
Floating down, the sound resounds
Around the icy waters underground.

This marks the beginning of Pink Floyd’s album career..  “Lucifer Sam” had a sharp riff like the theme from “Batman,” and was a wash of poetically, evocative lyrics.  Barrett’s lyrics were awash in images that sounded like a mad romp through some mystic, futuristic book of nursery rhymes.  Sharp and intense, songs like “Matilda Mother,” “Scarecrow,” and “The Gnome” sounded like the perfect soundtrack for the idyllic summer of ‘67 that had taken over England.  Instrumental numbers like “Interstellar Overdrive” and “Pow R. Toc H” were the sonic blueprint that Roger Waters, Rick Wright, and Nick Mason would later perfect in later songs like “Echoes,” and “Shine On You Crazy Diamond.”

The Piper At The Gates of Dawn was written mostly by Barrett.  The album that followed, A Saucerful of Secrets,  would introduce the musical vision of bassist Roger Waters, as well as mark the debut of their new vocalist / guitarist David Gilmour.  It would also mark the end of Barrett’s contribution to Floyd with his one lone contribution to the album, “Jugband Blues.”

It’s awfully considerate of you to think of me here
And I’m much obliged to you for making it clear
That I’m not here.

By most accounts, Syd quit.  By other accounts, the effects of his LSD use made it hard for the other band members to work with him.  Syd would go on to record a few solo records under his own name, but none of that work shines as brilliantly as his work with Pink Floyd.  I ended up trading Gary 3 Simon and Garfunkel albums for his Floyd set.  I had become a Syd fan.

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January 6th marks the birthday of Roger “Syd” Barrett, late of Pink Floyd and late of this earth.  Who knows what the world of music would have been like if Syd hadn’t decided to tattoo his brain with acid?  All I know is that the world of music would be a lost place without his contributions to 60s pop / rock.  Would Pink Floyd be the same band without Syd’s blueprint of musical experimentation?  Probably not.  Then again, why not just take out a copy of The Piper At The Gates of Dawn and find out for yourself?  Happy birthday, Syd.  Shine on, you crazy diamond!

(Lex Neon is also known as Alex Oliver, the quirky and often eccentric musical genius of “sunshine pop / rock” band Poppermost.  Check out their music and Lex’s rock rantings at http://www.poppermost.com).

(Note: the original release date for the album below is August 5, 1967)

Currently listening : The Piper at the Gates of Dawn By Pink Floyd

Lex on R.E.M. (Lifes Rich Pageant)

For me you have to look at R.E.M. and their album Lifes Rich Pageant, in the context of what was going on in the 1980s – big hair, no style, and a Republican government that was more than slightly embarrassing to those who closely monitored politics.  Good television was the exception (shows like Family Ties, Moonlighting, and Bosom Buddies), not the rule.  And if you went to the movies, you chose movies by John Hughes.

By the mid-80s, there were only a handful of bands and singers that really mattered in the grand scheme of pop and rock music.  On this list was R.E.M.  Album after album, these guys really showed their creativity and their talent for writing songs that you’d want to hear more than once.  For my money, they were the best “album band” in the world at that point.  I’d gone along for the ride for Murmur, Reckoning, and Fables of the Reconstruction.  I was not disappointed.

Then, in the summer of 1986, they released Lifes Rich Pageant.

When I placed that album on my turntable and cranked it up, I suddenly felt alive.  The power of that record blasted me out of the doldrums of teenage life to young adulthood, and nothing would ever be the same again.  Childhood was now officially over.  It was also the first time I was able to understand the vocals that had been buried in the mix (as another instrument) for the previous outings.

With Lifes Rich Pageant came the end of the first phase of R.E.M.’s recording career.  It marked the end of multi-layered sound textures and murky vocals.  It marked the beginning of Michael Stipe’s powerful voice being sewn into the fabric of the American “pop landscape;” it was the exit of “the mumble,” and the entrance of one of the most recognized and mesmerizing voices in music.

“Begin The Begin,” the track that starts the album, came through my stereo speakers with a rapid 9-note riff, a beefy rhythm track, a squall of feedback, and a sound that was powerful enough to move mountains.  I realized that this was a record that could go toe-to-toe with some of the older, solid classic rock albums in my collection.  The one-two combination of “Cuyahoga” and “Fall On Me” made me look closer at the lines that divided the aware and apathetic, especially in my age group.

“Fall On Me” is still revered as a classic R.E.M. song.  For me, it’s really one of the few pop / rock songs that survived the 1980s that stands as a signpost, both in its musical text and in its message.  For the first time, I  considered the consequences of my generation’s apathy.  Generation X (as the media would label us) spent its teen years behind RayBans, scouring record shops, and being told that we weren’t as good as our parents’ generation (the Baby Boomers).  When the book is written years from now, “Fall On Me” will be mentioned in the same breath as “For What It’s Worth (Stop! Hey! What’s That Sound),” “Blowin’ In The Wind,” and “Ball Of Confusion.”  Mark my words; it’s more than just “mid-tempo jangle pop.”

“These Days” was another manically-paced rocker from the album that made my ears prick up in delight.  The lyrics caught my ears and made me think.

All the people gather
Fly to carry each his burden
We are young, despite the years
We are concern
We are hope, despite the times
All of the sudden these days

Indeed, those words pointed my young mind in different directions.  It was at this point my childhood melted away.  I may have taken this song a bit too seriously at the time, but for me “These Days” drew a line in the sand.  It separated the “men” from the “boys.”  After a few dozen listens, I found my answer.

Lifes Rich Pageant is rock but it’s also ballads (”The Flowers of Guatemala”); it’s punk (”Just A Touch”); it’s quirky (”Underneath the Bunker”); it’s abstract acoustic pop (”Swan Swan H”); and it’s power pop (”Superman”).  Critics tend to dismiss this album as “the big step towards a more mainstream sound.”  I still see it as one of my favorite bands underneath the microscope, naked and unafraid to venture into new territory.

(Then again critics may love music, but they don’t buy music.  For the money I put down in late July of ‘86, I got more than I expected – my guys hit a homerun!  Screw the critics!)

Today is Michael Stipe’s birthday (January 4th).  Last year, I wrote a piece that told of my love for Michael’s work, and how the music of R.E.M. saved me from a decade of rather bland techno-pop, rock that lacked any balls or swagger, tired rhythm and blues that lacked any soul, and country music that lacked depth.  Today I write about one of my favorite albums, by one of my top 3 bands of all-time, by one of my top 2 favorite singers, co-written by my favorite lyricist.  Happy birthday, Michael.  I love you, man.

(Lex Neon is also known as Alex Oliver, the quirky and often eccentric musical genius of “sunshine pop / rock” band Poppermost.  Check out their music and Lex’s rock rantings at http://www.poppermost.com).

Note: The album below was originally released July 28, 1986.

Lifes Rich Pageant By R.E.M