Rollin’: Minor Threat’s Jeff Nelson has just sold a test pressing of his old band’s record Out of Step for $5,899.99. This will no doubt give the other members of Minor Threat ideas; check eBay soon to see Brian Baker’s auction of the coveted Junkyard test pressing.
Lyin’: I was among many who were taken in by Roxanne Shanté’s story of earning a Ph.D. due to a stipulation in her contract stating Warner Bros. would fund her education for life. It was soon exposed as a falsehood, and Shanté has finally apologized but not really.
Cavortin’: I can’t help but sense a conspiracy when one week, I get a press release about Los Lobos being invited to the White House and the next week, I get one announcing the band’s upcoming album, a collection of Disney songs. THE MAN IS WINNING.
Wishin’: Summit Global, who bought the license to the Polaroid name, has announced they’re going to make Polaroid cameras once again. Why? Because these lovable heroes saved the original film plant from total extinction. Amazing!
Cryin’: Chris Connor died last week at age 81. Her phrasing was like running through fields of flowers with no particular destination because a destination means the end and new love is forever. I could write about her forever and probably will. In the meantime, this is required listening.
Missin’: Andy Kerr has not played in Nomeansno for 18 years and they’ve never been the same without him. I would have paid $500 to see he and Connor sing duets. As it stands, he lives in Holland now and sings songs like this.
Well, it only took them ten years, but we take such news when we can get it!
The Magnetic Fields’ brilliant song cycle 69 Love Songs is finally seeing a vinyl release. Spread across six 10″ records, each in a separate gatefold sleeve, the set will be bound with a cardboard slipcover and a large version of the CD version booklet. It should be out
sometime in August April 20, 2010, it’s apparently limited to 3,000 copies, and it’ll cost about $100.
I’ve had a running list of albums that should be on vinyl going for quite some time, and 69 Love Songs has been right up near the top since its release ten years ago. Most record companies in 1999 didn’t see any benefit to releasing vinyl, although Merge Records has always been great about LPs—they even pioneered the LP+mp3 download coupon idea, which I covered pretty extensively here last year. Now if they could just release Crooked Fingers’ Red Devil Dawn on vinyl, we’d be set!
There’s a whole lotta other dream albums out there that would be released on vinyl if there were any sense of justice in the world. Here’s a few from the ongoing wish list. Feel free to add your own suggestions in the comments below.
Please, Record Industry: Put These Albums Out on Vinyl!
Lucinda Williams – Car Wheels on a Gravel Road
The Boredoms – Seadrum / House of Sun
Los Lobos – Colossal Head
K’naan – The Dusty Foot Philosopher
John Prine – In Spite of Ourselves
James Carter – Chasin’ the Gypsy
Gillian Welch – Time (the Revelator)
The Velvet Teen – Out of the Fierce Parade
Uncle Tupelo – Anodyne
Smoking Popes – Born to Quit
Arvo Pärt – Alina
Steve Earle – Transcendental Blues
Camille – Le Fil
Nellie McKay – Get Away From Me
The Rentals – Seven More Minutes
Don Byron – Ivey Divey
Greg Brown – Over and Under
Bebo & Cigala – Lagrimas Negras
Old 97’s – Too Far to Care
Wynton Marsalis – Live at the House of Tribes
Robert Earl Keen – Gravitational Forces
Knife in the Water – Soundtrack
No other band suffers such a disparity between their widely perceived “one hit” and their actual creative prowess as Los Lobos. It’s still one of the great misconceptions in rock and roll: while Los Lobos’ albums Kiko, Colossal Head and Good Morning Aztlan rank amongst the most invigorating and exciting listening experiences of the last fifteen years, drunk accountants in Cabo Wabo T-shirts at the Marin Fair last night still yelled for “La Bamba.”
“Not yet, man,” countered Cesar Rosas, no doubt resigned to the request by now. “If we play it, you’ll all leave!”
No true Los Lobos fan really gives a damn about hearing “La Bamba”—I’ve seen them twice before, and they didn’t play it, and no one asked for their money back. But a County Fair is a different story altogether, and Los Lobos knows this. So you’ve gotta hope that the old trick worked; namely, saving the payoff until the end, while in the meantime providing a look into one of the great catalogs of American music.
I, for one, am completely enamored of Los Lobos, which puts me in the company of bugeyed ex-Deadheads, aging Latino expatriates from L.A., and Sierra Nevada-swillin’ dudes with hairy shoulders. So be it. I love Los Lobos fans, if only to imagine them crawling into work the next morning, bedraggled in the best possible way, while their coworkers chug lattes and try to out-chipper each other with peppy chitchat.
Indeed, the large tent at the Marin Fair—on an island in the middle of a man-made lake—was packed with people preparing to feel like crap the next day. Dancing, swaying, drinking, singing along, and having the time of their life on the ever-festive last night of the fair. At certain moments, such as the ferocious three-way soloing pinnacle David Hidalgo, Cesar Rosas and Louie Pérez achieved in “That Train Don’t Stop Here,” it felt like the entire tent might explode.
Other highlights included “Short Side of Nothing,” “The Neighborhood,” “Kiko and the Lavender Moon,” and “This Time”—the latter of which Hidalgo started, then looked puzzled for a second, and finally asked the crowd, “Hey. . . who knows the first verse?”
If I’m not mistaken, the band played nothing from Colossal Head nor Good Morning Aztlan, but it didn’t matter—they’re so good live, and so dependent on how they play, that it’s somewhat negligible what they play. A few cumbias, a long blues jam, some newer songs, a guest saxophonist, and hey, they still rule.
If there’s any shrug to be had with the set, it’s that it was almost identical to the last time I saw Los Lobos, an entire five years ago. Then as now, covers included Traffic’s “Dear Mr. Fantasy” as well as a sing-along of Buddy Holly’s “Not Fade Away” segueing into the Dead’s “Bertha,” which sent the twirl brigade off and spinning on the fringes of the island.
But it was the final cover of the night that really lit people up: an encore of “La Bamba.” I made my way around the crowd and saw nothing but smiling, laughing, and getting down; and to my surprise, the aforementioned drunk accountant knew every Spanish word of the song. When Los Lobos seized on the chord progression and interpolated the Young Rascals’ “Good Lovin’,” the place went nuts. How can you argue?
I got a Philly Cheesesteak sandwich, watched the fireworks, rode the Merry-Go-Round, and then walked along the railroad tracks, to the rhythm of the bassline of Colossal Head‘s “Revolution,” stuck in my head, back to my car.
(P.S. Steve Berlin, if you are reading this—I’ve always wanted to ask if you’ve got any idea whether Lee Allen intentionally quoted both “Andalucia” and “Across the Alley from the Alamo” during his saxophone solo for “Roll ‘Em Pete” on the Blasters’ live EP, Over There, or if it was merely a musical accident. I’m totally serious—it’s plagued me for over ten years. Any clue?)