Underrated Bob Dylan

       Last Wednesday afternoon, I was sitting in my office, entering data into a spreadsheet, when it occurred to me that it was awfully quiet in the building.

       "Mind if I put on some music?" I called out to the people in the two adjacent offices.

       They didn't mind. I have a pretty good reputation when it comes to my music choices, so I'm sure they expected that I'd play something tasteful.

       I had the Bob Dylan CD "Down in the Groove" with me, and I slipped it into the player, confident that my friends would have no problem appreciating the tunes, even if they'd never heard them before. Confident, even though this effort from the middle of 1988 is considered by many in the rock and roll press to be Dylan's worst.

       That's right. I wasn't concerned at the prospect of losing the respect of my peers by playing this album, even though famed rock critic Robert Christgau called it a "horrendous product." Why? Because it's not that bad. In fact, I characterize it as a great Dylan album that's mistakenly viewed as unfocused.

       Really, what's not to like?

       The album kicks off with a primal version of Wilbert Harrison's "Let's Stick Together." Yes, the instrumentation is electric, but the sound comes straight out of the bluesiest roadhouse in the deepest, darkest swamp in Louisiana. It's a joyful affirmation of fidelity and there's just nothing wrong with that.

       Like his previous album, "Knocked Out Loaded," the songs on "Down in the Groove" are propelled by many different musicians. In fact, the songs were recorded over a span of a few years and no two songs have the same backing band. This is ordinarily presented as a negative when describing this album, mostly because the production varies little between the songs, but it doesn't bother me at all. Sure it's cool to know that Eric Clapton, Ron Wood, Mark Knopfler, Steve Jones and Paul Simonon backed Dylan, but do I really need to hear Steve Jones playing Sex Pistols-esque guitar to appreciate his contribution? I don't think so. To my mind, the fact that the production is consistent only serves to focus the overall tone of the album.

       I bought "Down in the Groove" when it was first released, and I have a great memory of a late night in Dallas, driving around town with my friend and mentor Tommy Wallace, singing along with the tune "Death Is Not the End" as it played on my truck's cassette player. Tommy was twenty years older than me, a Texas hippie, and a committed and knowledgeable Christian. He originally turned me on to Dylan and I was excited to play the new album for him. The song "Death Is Not The End" was right up Tommy's alley, with old-school religion lyrics like "When the cities are on fire with the burning flesh of men, just remember that death is not the end." Pretty stark stuff, and it wasn't long before we were both singing along to the chorus: "Not the end, not the end, just remember that death is not the end."

       Dylan collaborates with the Grateful Dead lyricist, Robert Hunter, on two songs on "Down in the Groove." "Ugliest Girl in the World" is silly and playful as Dylan sings his reasons for being "in love with the ugliest girl in the world." It's hard not to smile when he sings "She speaks with a stutter and she walks with a hop, I don't know why I love her but I just can't stop."

       On the second collaboration with Hunter, three members of the Grateful Dead stepped in for background vocals and the result was "Silvio," by far the best known tune from this album. It's bouncy and insistent, with more lyrics guaranteed to please my aging hippie friend: "Silvio, silver and gold, won't buy back the beat of a heart grown cold, Silvio, I gotta go, find out something only dead men know."

       The album winds down with a couple of covers. At first glance, the traditional "Shenandoah" might seem like a strange song for Dylan to have recorded in the musical climate of the eighties, but one listen can easily dispel that notion. Dylan performs the tune with the same electrified primal energy and the result is a very honest rendition, complete with gorgeous and soulful female background vocals.

       Last up is a cover of a tune written by Albert E. Brumley, called "Rank Strangers to Me." In what may or may not be a dream, the narrator travels to his "home in the mountain' only to find that his friends and family are gone. The people there, he declares, are "rank strangers to me." In the final verse, he states emphatically: "Some beautiful day, well, I'll meet 'em in Heaven, Where no one will be a stranger to me." I find these lyrics to be strangely dark and beautiful.

       The front cover of this album shows Dylan seated on what appears to be a dark stage, illuminated by a single spotlight. There's a definite contrast between the dark and the light in that picture, and that's just what I hear in the sounds and words of this album. Contrast. Dylan's vocals are like a light shining in the darkness of the music, and this is what I believe gives this album a timeless quality. Far from being a "horrendous product," "Down in the Groove" is a tragically underrated Dylan statement.

       Peace! 

Raw Aerosmith: Live! Bootleg

       When I was in eighth and ninth grade, the dominant band on my turntable was Aerosmith. This was in the period spanning late 1978 and late1979, when my family lived on Spangdahlem Air Force Base, in Germany.

        I first learned about Aerosmith through my brother, who turned me on to the album "Toys in the Attic." I can remember actually going to bed early just so I could lay in bed with my headphones listening to "Toys in the Attic." I think it's likely I had every note on that album memorized. And of course, my brother and I thought it was hysterical to play the song "Big Ten Inch" in front of my Dad. ("But Dad! He's talking about his big ten inch record!")

        My brother also had "Draw the Line," "Get Your Wings," an eight-track tape of "Rocks," and the first "Aerosmith" album. Oh, and he had "Live! Bootleg," which is the best live album of all time by a hard rock band. Check that! It's the best live album by any rock band, ever!

        First of all, the packaging of "Live! Bootleg" imitates the cheesey, no-budget album covers put out by music bootleggers of the time. There's even what looks like coffee stains on the back. And, in keeping with the high standards of bootleggers, the song "Draw the Line" is on the album, but isn't listed on the cover.

        The songs on "Live! Bootleg" were recorded at various stops on their 1977-78 tour, with a couple from 1973 thrown in to give a taste of their early repertoire. A common thread throughout the album is raw, spare production. If there are any studio overdubs, I don't know about it. It's grass-roots Aerosmith, and that's a good thing.

        The album opens with the rockin' swagger of "Back in the Saddle" and then gives us dirty and greasy versions of "Sweet Emotion," "Lord of the Thighs," and "Walk This Way." Some of these songs sound like guitarists Joe Perry and Brad Whitford used metal trash-cans strung with guitar strings.

        Songs like "Mama Kin," "Sick as a Dog," and "Chip Away the Stone" were played with a loose ferocity that placed the band closer to the punk side of things than the airy, positive Album Oriented Rock of other American bands at the time. Think of it this way: Aerosmith were like the hipsters who smoked cigarettes in the bathroom in High School, while Kansas and Styx were like the guys who played guitar in the Bible study group at your non-denominational church.

        There's a picture inside the album cover that really defines Aerosmith for me. Joe Perry, the quintessential American lead guitarist, is standing in front of the drum set with his back to the audience. His skinny legs are covered with black leather pants, the ends of which are tucked into cowboy boots. He's playing (as far as I can tell from the headstock) a Fender Stratocaster, and he's got a Gibson Les Paul strapped over his back. He's got his head down and though I can't see his face, I'm sure his long hair is hanging in his eyes. It's guitarist as hipster desperado, and it was pretty much what I had in mind, at fourteen years old, when I envisioned the concept of manhood.

        There are lot's of important live albums out there, like Frampton's "Frampton Comes Alive," ZZ Top's "Fandango," Ted Nugent's "Double Live Gonzo," Cheap Trick's "Live at Budokan," Kiss' "Alive!" (I and II) , Rush's "All the World's a Stage," Yes' "Yessongs," and Jackson Browne's "Running on Empty," but none of these hit me like "Live! Bootleg." I've been listening to it a lot lately, and each time I'm reminded of just how much fun a tough rock and roll band can be.

Peace!

Willie Nelson: Death, Taxes, and Stardust

       By 1978, Willie Nelson had enough clout in the world of country and western to do just about anything he wanted. With this creative freedom, he chose to record "Stardust", a sublime album of old jazz-pop standards that many predicted would ruin his career. Considering that it now easily ranks among his best selling and most widely accessible albums, it seems the cynics have been proven wrong. Even after thirty years, Stardust stands out as a prime example of tastefully fused jazz, country, and R&B.

       From the beginning, "Stardust" was a good idea. Booker T. Jones was brought in to produce the effort as well as to play piano and organ. That's right, Booker T. Jones of "Booker T. and the MG's." I can't think of a single thing wrong with that decision. The very idea of Booker T. Jones' solid reputation as an organist and gifted arranger, paired with the tight family atmosphere of Willie's band, promised a subtle brilliance that couldn't help but produce satisfactory results. It was, as they say, a match made in heaven.

       I first encountered "Stardust" shortly after it's release. I don't recall which parent bought it, but an eight-track copy made it's way into our first floor apartment on Spangdahlem Air Force Base, in Germany.  I was only thirteen, and so most of the songs on Stardust were new to me. Still, it's a testimony to the timeless quality of songs like "September Song," "Sunny Side of the Street," and "Moonlight in Vermont" that despite being steeped in Aerosmith, Foghat and Styx, I found enough time to listen to "Stardust" to memorize the words to every song. To this day, my reference point for all of these songs is the phrasing that Willie Nelson uses, both with his impeccable acoustic guitar and rustic voice. I just can't hear somebody else sing "All of Me" or Unchained Melody" without comparing it to Willie's version.

       My favorite song on the album is "Someone to Watch Over Me." It's a gorgeous tune in even the worst hands, and Willie handles it better than most. A few years ago, I learned to play the melody on my guitar, and while I forget guitar pieces all the time, I don't think I'll ever forget how to play "Someone to Watch Over Me." It's as beautiful to play as it is to hear. Of course, I play it using Willie's phrasing.

       In retrospect, music business types should have easily foreseen the success of Stardust. Only sixteen years earlier, Ray Charles had successfully paired country and R&B on the album "Modern Sounds in Country and Western."

       And on the subject of Ray Charles, I need to mention that "Stardust" contains a version of "Georgia" that, while it doesn't exactly supplant the Ray Charles version, satisfies with warm understatement as much as the earlier version satisfies with raw emotion.

       They say that there are only two certainties in life: death and taxes. Maybe so, but as far as I'm concerned, there's a third certainty: that I'll always have a copy of Willie Nelson's album "Stardust" in my collection.

       Peace!

In Trouble? Try Simon and Garfunkel's Greatest Hits!

       Music has lots of uses. Besides providing pleasing sounds to my ears, it supplies the beat to which I can practice my awkward dance moves. It can both soothe my fragile nerves and get me ready for a fun-filled Saturday night. Music provides the soundtrack for a ride in our Toyota Corolla, and makes the time fly by on a long plane ride. Music does all of these things for me and for lots of people across the world. But did you know that music can get a person out of trouble?

       It most certainly can. 

       Allow me to explain.

       In the early eighties, when I was a teenager in El Paso, my Mom would drop me off at school in the morning on her way to work. I'd previously ridden a bicycle, but it got stolen when we left the garage door open one careless night. So, every school day, I'd take the five minute ride in my Mom's bronze Ford Escort to be dropped off at the corner of my high school.

       One particular Spring morning, I was in trouble with my Mom. I don't recall what I'd done, but it had her in a furious mood. Actually, during my teen years I often found my behavior on the wrong side of what my parents deemed acceptable. It's not that I was a bad kid, it's just that I was lazy, forgetful, and unmotivated. Consequently, I had to play catch-up on chores, sneak into the house after curfew, and be constantly nagged to go out and get a job. Other than that, I was a pretty good kid.

       Fortunately, I was also a perceptive and sensitive kid. I wasn't looking forward to a silent, tension-filled ride to school with my Mom, so I sought a method to thaw her icy demeanor. The choice was obvious: Simon and Garfunkel's Greatest Hits.

       Released in 1972, Simon and Garfunkel's Greatest Hits sold well and eventually attained the rare status of being regarded as an album in it's own right by the rock and roll mass consciousness. (Other Greatest Hits packages that became known as albums include collections by The Eagles, The Steve Miller Band, and Squeeze.)

       I'd known about the songs on the Simon and Garfunkel collection since it's release. My parents had a cassette version that they played on one of those archaic, one-speaker tape players that everybody had in the early seventies. In fact, it seemed that for a long time just about everybody had a copy of that album. Uncles, teachers, coaches, friends and rivals all listened to Simon and Garfunkel's Greatest Hits. In 1982, my driving instructor, Mr. Hanna, had a copy in the eight-track player in his driving school's car, though he wouldn't let me listen to it while I lurched him around town.

       The coolest part of the Simon and Garfunkel collection is that it contains exquisitely delicate and perfectly performed live versions of their more intimate tunes along with the standard studio versions of their biggest hits. "The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy)" and "Homeward Bound" are two of my favorite Simon and Garfunkel songs, and both are given the live treatment, while "The Boxer" and "Cecilia" are presented in their pristine album versions.

       Another song that was recorded live for the Greatest Hits package was "Bridge Over Trouble Water," and I wouldn't argue if somebody were to assert that it's the most perfectly rendered song ever recorded in the rock and roll era. Without fail, every time I hear it, my soul is lifted along with the strings and drums to the hair-raisingly beautiful ending, where Art Garfunkel always nails the powerful climactic notes. It's just the type of song that would come in handy during a car ride with an angry Mom.

       On the particular day of my ride to school with my angry Mom, I had a cassette copy of Simon and Garfunkel's Greatest Hits that my friend Bruno had loaned me. I was running behind, and she waited for me in the idling bronze Escort on the driveway, growing more impatient and angry by the second. As soon as I got in, I slipped the tape into the player.

       Needing to achieve the desired result quickly, I already had "Bridge Over Troubled Water" queued up as the first song. While the tension was at first almost too much to endure, it was already dissipating by the time the first chorus was winding down. By the time we arrived at my drop-off spot at the corner of Mackinaw Street and Sun Valley Drive, Garfunkel had done his thing and the tension was gone.

       My Mom knew she'd been manipulated. She gave me a wry look, laughed, and pointed at the cassette player. "You're lucky you've got that tape!"

       I'll bet she really enjoyed the rest of her ride to work.

       Peace!

El Paso's Rock and Roll Legacy: The Bobby Fuller Four

       There's a game that my friends and I play on occasion. Actually, it's not so much a game as a rock and roll cultural exercise. The point is to name a city and then pick the local rock and roll figure---either band or solo artist---who most represents that city. For instance, Seattle would be represented by Nirvana, Boston by Aerosmith, New York City by Billy Joel, San Francisco by the Grateful Dead, and the whole state of New Jersey by Bruce Springsteen. Of course the list is open to disagreement, but you get the point.

        I'm currently living near Dallas, and as far as I'm concerned, our rock and roll face is worn by rock-a-billy rockers The Reverend Horton Heat. As for the rest of Texas, Lubbock's got Buddy Holly, Houston's got ZZ Top, Austin's got Stevie Ray Vaughn, and El Paso has the Bobby Fuller Four. I'm a fan of each of these artists, but my favorite is the Bobby Fuller Four.

        It's entirely possible that my affinity for the Bobby Fuller Four stems from a nostalgia for my youth in El Paso, Texas. And that's a valid reason. The music speaks to me. When I hear the song "I Fought the Law" I can't help but respond favorably to the sound that Bobby Fuller was able to coax from the guitars in his band. The sound is undeniably simple, yet it perfectly captures my impressions of a cool September afternoon in El Paso. And that's a good thing.

       Bobby Fuller became a music star in El Paso, playing in clubs and releasing singles locally. This was in the early 1960's. He had strong ambitions for his band's success, and toward that end built a studio in his parent's house to learn the art of recording. To gain experience, he volunteered his services to other local bands. Despite having only a small amount of equipment, the recordings he made are renowned for their quality.

        That Bobby Fuller was a fan of Buddy Holly is a given. The Bobby Fuller Four's sound was influenced by the bright and optimistic sound introduced to the world by Buddy Holly. It's obvious. Still, Bobby Fuller added important flourishes to flesh out the sound enough to call it his own.

        He took the sound to Los Angeles in 1964, and in December of 1965 the Bobby Fuller Four released the single "I Fought the Law" on Mustang Records. It reached #4 on the Billboard charts and established the band's place in rock and roll history. Let's face it, everybody knows that song.

        The next single released by the band was a cover of Buddy Holly's "Love's Made a Fool of You." I first heard their version when I bought a CD of "The Best of the Bobby Fuller Four" in 1990. The band really did a great job with this song. I've heard it at least a hundred times over the years and I've never gotten tired of it.

What I especially like about these two songs is that the instrumental break, normally filled with lead guitar, is instead filled with rapidly strummed chords that give the song an optimistic momentum.

        Unfortunately, Bobby Fuller's career was cut short. He died in June of 1966 under mysterious circumstances. He'd gone out on a date and in the morning his lifeless body was found in his car. He'd been beaten up and his body had been drenched in gasoline. The Los Angeles police initially considered the death to be a suicide, but later changed the report to "Accidental Asphyxiation."

        Strange.

        The mystery surrounding Bobby Fuller's death was discussed on the television show "Unsolved Mysteries." They were able to track down the woman with whom he'd spent the evening, but she had no answers for what happened to him after they'd said "Good-night."

        It's too bad. Bobby Fuller had the talent and determination to do great things with his music. Still, despite his early departure, he achieved a great deal. I listen to "The Best of the Bobby Fuller Four" often, and when I get to the last song I just have to nod and smile. The last song is called "Never to be Forgotten."

        Very cool.

        Peace!