ALBUM: Local Hero (movie soundtrack 1983); Kitaro.
MVC Rating: Local”4.5/$$$’ Kitaro, 4.0/$$$
For the Now Playing portion of my column featured on this website and AL.com, we have a movie soundtrack from Mark Knopfler that is good, very good, as is the movie.’
Local Hero,’ beautifully filmed in Scotland is a droll and understated comedy fits right in with Knopflers’s smooth sounding finger-pick work. Like all soundtracks, there are incidents of incidental music, and the album is mostly instrumental. But the overall quality is superb.
I’m adding into this review another sleepy time album -by – a musician who happens to be in alphabetical order, more or less, as I reach into the New Age and pull out Kitaro. If ‘Local Hero’ puts you in a restful peaceful state, Kitaro will just knock you out . A New Age record, for those who don’t remember, is light bright soft serve ice cream. I don’t know that image just came to mind. But I’ve enjoyed New Age musicians, such as George Winston, Michael Hedges and Kitaro.
It’s also fine background music where you don’t want the music to drown out the talk. I find that a lot of folks get into New Age music when they have little ones, nothing like a soothing Kitaro waterfall with flutes to ease those temper tantrums. Because when you finish your tantrum, you’ll be able to help the children, right?
Got that?
I highly recommend Local Hero, a good one that has held up.
When I was growing up — I was about 11 when this came out — nearly all of the songs on Tapestry were on the radio. Or so it seemed. They are among the all time greatest pop songs ever written.
Rolling Stone magazine has her and writing partner Gerry Goffin at #7 on the list of greatest songwriters behind Bob Dylan, Paul McCartney, John Lennon, Chuck Berry, Smokey Robinson and Mick Jagger/Keith Richards. She’s the highest ranking female on the list. But I could argue for an even higher rank.
I think King hops the Stones’ boys and Smokey, all brilliant mind you, and on my desert Island I’d probably take the Stones first. But from a purely objective point of view, I think she’s a No. 5 on the list. And if you pulled the two Beatles together into one rank – the No. 2 slot — she would move up to the No. 4 slot. I’m not going to do a side-by-side on these but Tapestry, the album, is astonishing in that nearly every song is a standard.
But the kicker is this: Look at what she has written for other artists including a song — Chains — covered by the Beatles. Here’s a small sampling of non-Tapestry songs she wrote:
‘The Loco-motion’ for their babysitter Little Eva.
“Go Away Little Girl,’ Donny Osmond and Steve Lawrence.
‘Up on the Roof,’ the Drifters.
‘Don’t Bring Me Down,’ the Animals.
‘If it’s Over,’ Mariah Carey.
‘One Fine Day,’ the Chiffons,
‘I’m into Something Good,’ Herman’s Hermits.
At one time I remember Tapestry being the biggest seller ever, at least for a period, eclipsing Beatles. Then I remember hearing Pink Floyd’s ‘Dark Side of the Moon’ surpassed Tapestry. Don’t know if this is accurate, but it comes out of my Lewy body dementia memory that way. Tapestry is still in theTop 10 best selling album of all time.
The copy of Tapestry I have in the house is from my wife’s collection. We began dating in 1978 and were married 1981 and that involved ‘merging’ of some records and tastes. Catherine loved Tapestry and knew every word to every song. Here’s the songs from Tapestry as listed on Wikipedia.:
I was learning to like some of Catherine’s music: James Taylor, for whom I skipped class to camp out and buy tickets to his sold-out concert at Auburn University in, oh, 1980 maybe; Carly Simon, whose ‘Your So Vain’ was one of the few songs I could listen to a million times without getting tired of it. Other groups she loved that I came to appreciate, for the most part anyway: Bread, America, the Carpenters and Diana Ross.
This is a good progressive album. And as I’ve stated before progressive is not my go-to genre. Those who have been following this blog know that — but also know that I admire and own some good examples: Emerson, Lake and Palmer; Yes; and Genesis.
And I also own what I’d call genre-busting proggers: Captain Beyond, Frank Zappa, Pink Floyd, and Crack the Sky.
It all starts on this album with ‘Elephant Walk’ with clever wordplay on the meaning or lack of meaning in verbal communication. Robert Fripp and Adrien Belew deliver some articulate and geometric guitar that blazes, stops and fills better than anyone this side of Zappa on his A-game.
But it’s the opening lyrics that set the tone in ‘Elephant Talk.’
Talk/It’s only talk Arguments, Agreements, Advice, Answers , Articulate announcements It’s only talk
Talk /It’s only talk Babble, Burble, Banter, Bicker/bicker/bicker, Brouhaha, Balderdash, Ballyhoo It’s only talk/ Back talk
Talk talk talk/It’s only talk Comments , Cliches, Commentary, Controversy, Chatter, Chit-chat/Chit-chat/Chit-chat, Conversation, Contradiction, Criticism It’s only talk/Cheap talk’
Better at alphabetical order than I am. Some call it ‘math rock.’ You can see for sure that Robert Fripp and crew influenced progressive New Wavers, especially the Talking Heads.
I remember buying this 1983 compilation soundtrack for one song. Van Morrison’s ‘Wonderful Remark.’ A great great song that at that time appeared on no other albums; it was written explicitly for this movie.
Yet I believed it was as good as anything Morrison has done — and that’s alot.
Now there are other good songs on here, some like the Pretenders’ ‘Back on the Chain Gang’ I already had (and loved). Since then the ‘Wonderful Remark’ cut has been on several compilation albums.
Listening to the soundtrack, I almost want to see the Martin Scorcese movie starring Jerry Lewis and Robert DeNiro. A black comedy it was blistered by critics at the time but now seems to have fallen into the good graces of some critics.
Here’s Van Morrison video. This song was worth the admission for me, esp. because it was unreleased at the time. but as you can see there’s other good songs here.
[Scene Part 7. Prosby still trying to figure out why he is being kidnapped, looks for an escape from the crazy psychopathic Dani and two of her muscle heads.]
It was midnight in Bithlo. Prosby had been tied up, mask on, in the back of a pick-up truck since they left the Panhandle town of Dothan.
Dothan was relatively safe. Bithlo was not.
But because the ocean had covered 70 percent of Florida over the past few hundred years, the only way to get to Orlando was through Bithlo.
Prosby banged his head on the rear view glass to try and get Dani’s attention. She wasn’t driving, one of her steroid enhanced men was at the wheel. He looked about 6’7” and a chiseled 250 pounds. Another one, was quite a bit shorter but probably heavier. As one North American comic put it years ago: His muscles had muscles.
Prosby shook his head. How did this happen?
And then there was Burnees. They were friends in childhood, lovers thereafter. Then their world changed. Hell, everybody’s world changed.
Larger hisicanes and hurricanes, tornadoes with winds off the charts, and the rains that never stopped — except when they stopped… they really stopped.
Last time he saw her, Prosby and Burnees were broke in an ever-disappearing Baton Rouge. They hopped aboard an 18-wheeler and headed west, singing, playing harmonica. Last time he saw her was in California, some godforsaken town. Lodi, maybe? Prosby’s memory was failing him.
He was officially diagnosed years ago, with the little known brain disease called the Woolies, a condition named after Dr. Chapo Wulu, believed caused by radiation exposure. The radiation cultivated killer proteins nicknamed Memory Monsters. Prosby was in early stages but he knew someday his memory would be wiped. On days like this, maybe that’s a good thing.
Salinas! The memory though a late arrival decided to visit. That’s right. Beach town probably underwater now. He remembered that he and Burnees had such great expectations.
But she walked away. ..Anyway.
He never saw her again. He had heard the rumors though. That she was working for the Guardians or hiding from the Guardians. He was glad to hear she was still living nonetheless. He wondered what the witchy woman Dani wanted.
Prosby was snapped out of his reverie by the short muscle head standing over him as the truck came to a stop.
“Hey Popeye,” Prosby said to the man glaring at him. “Gonna whip up some spinach omelettes for us?”
“Shut up unless you want me bounce your head on the street,” said square-muscle.
“Good one, muscle head,” Prosb y said, actually impressed with bicep-boy’s ability to string words together into a sentence.
“Whasssup!” Dani said smiling, emerging from the passenger side, raising her hands and dancing. You two boys introducing yourselves? Big meathead stayed in the driver’s seat looking straight ahead.
Prosby suspected Dani was on cocaine, pharmaceutical.
“I gotta take a leak,” Prosby said.
“Aww nature calls,” Dani said. “You know I may be calling too, soon. As they say, let nature take it’s course.”
She flicked her head to square peg indicating for him to take Prosby for a short walk.
“Stay with him,” she said. “Don’t try anything Prosby, he has orders to kill if you run and he has killed lots of running people.”
“And Prosby, even if you do run and escape the killing machine that is my man here, you’ll be running in Bithlo. The twitching freaks and their dog hybrids will kill you and cut you up for dinner in quick time”
This is an
opinion/humor column in that the author is of the opinion there’s humor in this
column. The views are solely those of Mike Oliver anddo not reflect those of AL.com — and especially not the views of Catherine.
I gave up driving some time ago.
As a 59-year-old man living with Lewy
body dementia, I
believed I was doing myself and others a favor by turning the wheel over.
The view from the passenger side has given me a totally different perspective, onefueled by adrenaline and abject terror.
Every day I gather my stuff together, grab a cup of
coffee and hurry outside to the passenger seat. My wife, Catherine, is waiting
which I can see but she tells me anyway. She’s in the driver’s seat.
Many days I arrive at my Birmingham office
white=knuckled and covered in a nice cold layer of sweat.
“Bye bye dear,” my wife Catherine says as I
practically roll out of the car – though she usually slows down a bit.
On those really bad days where my hands are a vise
grip on arm rests, she finds it helpful to pull my pinky finger back first in
order for the rest of my fingers to relinquish their grip. She learned that in
a self-defense class some years ago.
“Aaaaauuuugghh,” I scream.
On this particular day, I wasn’t sure how I went from vise grips to lying on the street. But I popped up, brushed off my clothes and snatched my nearby backpack containing my laptop just seconds before it would have been crushed under the wheels of a 10-ton transit bus.
“That was close,” my lovely wife noticed and felt
the urge to verbalize.
You think? Captain Obvious.
I kept that thought to myself. But I continued my
silent thought:
Sure it was close but not as close as you came to
hitting a garbage dumpster about 10 minutes ago as you tried to shoot the
narrow gap on a merge between a car and the aforementioned dumpster.
The dumpster was on my side – the passenger side —
and appeared to be coming at me at 50 mph.
“Honey slow down now,” I said gently. “We are coming to a merge here. Um, there’s a merge here. Catherine? We are not going to make that gap. Catherine, seriously the car won’t fit in that space, slow down.”
I think she sped up to get ahead of the car. My
voice got a little louder.
“HONEY YOU ARE NOT GOING TO MAKE IT THROUGH THERE!
S-L-O-W T-H-E F-U-D-G-E D-O-W-N
I actually don’t know if I fell asleep for a few
seconds or just closed my eyes, whatever my body’s adrenal glands were plain
used up. No crash noise did I hear. No scraping the top of the car off by a
dumpster sized can opener. Regaining consciousness, my head was on a swivel
looking back and front, incredulous that she once again had threaded the needle.
I gathered myself and was almost inaudible. “I did
not think you could make that.”
She was humming along with a song on the radio.
She wasn’t even listening to me at this point. I
think she was still a bit angry because early in the trip when I yelled ‘Watch
Out’ at the top of my lungs. Turns out she didn’t really need to watch out. My
bad, sheesh, no need to hold a grudge.
To be fair, I have found that it’s not just Catherine who drives like this. It’s practically every single person who takes me somewhere pulls these scary maneuvers on what seems like every single trip when I am in the passenger seat.
How could this be?
From my new vantage point, maybe I’m coming to some
truths about myself and others and the difficulties it is to be more dependent
on others.
The passenger side takes me away from my comfort
zone and into a world where I have to learn to accept that I am dependent on
other human beings.
Yes, the passenger side has given me new
perspectives and confirmed a perspective I already suspected:
Kaleidoscope was a pioneering psych rock folk world music band from San Francisco.
ALBUM: ‘Incredible’ (1969)
MVC Rating: 4.0/$$$$
If you like psychedelic banjo music you’ll love this.
Actually, I do. But it’s not for everybody. I became aware of this band because I’ve long been a fan of David Lindley who has put out some fun, eclectic music over the years on his own. And he also has been a fixture in Jackson Browne recordings and performances over the years.
Excellent on guitar, steel guitar, banjo – and assorted string instruments you may have never heard of. In his youth, Lindley won the Topanga Canyon Banjo Contest two years in a row back in tIhe 60’s, according to Wikipedia.
This band, Kaleidoscope, preceded Lindley’s work with Browne. It’s a product of the psychedelic 60’s but what separates it from some in this genre is the highly skilled playing of the instruments and its infusion of world music. And banjo.
It’s also an example of how now and again I decide to buy LPs.
I bought this just about a year ago for a few bucks. I saw it, saw the name David Lindley and pounced. I’ll be doing some Lindley reviews coming up after I finish the K’s .
One of the videos below is “Banjo’ and another is ‘Seven Ate Sweet’ a progressive instrumental in 7/8 time. Enjoy, or, at least, admire.
At the risk of releasing a giant ear worm, here’s the band that wrote and recorded ‘The Break-up Song.’ Don’t remember it?
How about if I add the rest of the song title. (‘They Don’t Write ‘Em) No?
How about this hint:
Ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah-ah, ah
Yes, they don’t write ’em like that anymore.
It’s a decent song with little to say other than people are dancing to a song like you don’t hear much anymore. That may be profound. Or, like a lot of things, profundity is in the eye of the beholder, or in this case the ear of the listener.
Remember this was 1981. So we can look back and say the same thing about this song.
Ah-ah-ah, ah-ah-ah-ah, ah. They don’t write ’em like that any more.
Maybe we are thankful.
Some decent power pop rock on this album with the emphasis on ‘some.’ I don’t recall buying this but I must have obtained it pretty cheaply. Mostly forgotten fodder. Most of the songs are written or co-written by Kihn. But there’s a cover of “Sheila” by Tommy Roe, he of ‘Dizzy’ fame. “I’m so dizzy, my head is spinning.’
NOTE: I added Pearl, which I picked up in a thrift store after I’d done the original review. Half the tracks overlap with Greatest Hits. Pearl is a great classic album. I’m pretty sure I have pretty much all the Joplin I need as I also have a CD with something like 20 song.
—
Talk about pain — as we have been with the country songs of George Jones and Tammy Wynette — Janis Joplin was one hurting puppy.
Her voice was like no other when that inner turmoil came out.
That’s why the video in my last post of Janis and Tom Jones is something of a revelation. Tom Jones (coming to Birmingham soon) is a made for-Vegas, pop singer with a ladies’ following, some nifty dance moves copped from Elvis, and a strong strong voice in his own right. On this duet, Tom and Janis seem to be having much fun as they see who can out belt each other while shimmying around the dance floor to a small but raucous crowd of musicians and dancers.
Janis’ story is sad. Bullied in school in Port Arthur, Texas, for being overweight and having severe acne, she withdrew, thinking she didn’t fit in. She listened to old blues records and began singing in clubs. Next stop San Francisco. It was the psychedelic 1960s’ epicenter. Music, consciousness raising, sexual liberation and drugs came together in a way that was both exciting and very extremely dangerous. Janis died of a heroin overdose at 27.
She died before seeing her cover of the Kris Kristofferson-Fred Foster penned ‘Me and Bobby McGee.’ I might even put that song in my top 10 all time rock songs. Listen to how the lyrics like graceful brush strokes evoke a time, a place, desperation and, yes, freedom.
It was the second No. 1 single to be released after the artist died. The other? ‘(Sittin’ On the Dock of the Bay’ by Otis Redding, another song in contention for my Top 10 and another example of voice and words evoking a sad song of wandering and memories. I’ve got some Otis Redding coming so, as Sam and Dave used to sing, Hold On.
Fun fact: Bobby McGee has been covered by many people, but the first cover was by Roger “King of the Road” Miller. Road songs all.
Another day, another singer named Jones. As in Tom Jones.
First off this isn’t real country music. Secondly, is this the real Tom Jones?
On record it sounds like Tom Jones and his powerful voice is in fine form. But the cover with Jones wearing a cowboy hat looks an awful lot like Will Ferrell. No? Take a look side-by-side look of both gentlemen in hats:
The left is as it says, Will Ferrell, the right is Jones.
If you are looking for real country music sung by a man named Jones, don’t choose Tom, choose George. (George and Tammy Wynette are reviewed on my previous post.)
Now we transition from George Jones to Tom Jones and watch this smooth segue as I post a video of Tom Jones singing with Janis Joplin — who happens to be next in the myvinylcountdown.com of my 678 vinyl records.
