erky, yet crunchy. Or is it crunchy, yet perky? And oh, look! It’s 70s slide guitar, in the best possible sense. “I’ll sell you dreams you never knew you wanted . . . ”
Yep; it’s Goodtimes Goodtimes once again. I swear, Franc puts something in your tea that’s instantly addicting. I have, in my 50 years of constant ingestion, heard a lot o’ music. The Fortune Teller Song is one of that rare breed that has my feet tapping and head bobbing simultaneously, and that’s even during the third repeat. (I also love that the opening guitar riff is, um, an ‘homage’ [as in, lifted directly] from the Smith’s How Soon is Now?.)
You should go get your own absolutely free copy (well, it costs signing up for his newsletter; oooh) and be ready to snag a copy of the new album when it’s out.
Not a typo; it’s the name of a PacNW band. Their bass player Scott Andrew has appeared here more than once, often disguised as Walkingbirds. Watch the video. Crank it up.
make mix CDs for our drives through the mountains (or wherever we’re driving through.) My daughter, 6, has realised that she can have almost anything she wants on her MP3 player.
And I’ve realised that, when she says at the beginning of every single song “Oh, you have to put this song on my MP3 player this instant!” she’s not just talking. She knows the songs, she loves the songs, she wants the songs.
She may grow up to love music almost as much as I do.
ince I already own much of what’s on this 4-CD compilation I won’t be buying it (I’ll just get the few Winwood albums I don’t already own) but if you’d like a broad sweeping view of a rare musical wonder, Revolutions is stuffed full of songs you’ve heard forever, or never heard but should have.
It has all of John Barleycorn except Every Mother’s Son; funny to leave off just that one track.
Only a single track from Winwood’s eponymous first solo album (Vacant Chair.) I would have included (also, or instead) Let Me Make Something in Your Life; Steve has this knack for down-to-earth love songs that feel more like real life, and less like ethereal fantasies. (Perhaps I should play this for Best Beloved. Perhaps I should confirm I still have my vinyl copy.)
Over half of Mr. Fantasy shows up; just less than half of Traffic. Hard telling who made the decisions, or why; some fairly obscure stuff is included, some obvious choices like Feelin’ Alright didn’t make it.
ixed media: I love running across the stuff hanging in a gallery where the artist has photos embedded in acrylic with gardening implements painted garish colors and a bucket of dirt with a live plant growing in it. (I made that up; don’t go looking for it.)
ilm maker (which is quite an understatement, really) Nic Askew graciously pointed out the music credits in his film “The Perilous Journey” which you should go watch right now. I’ll wait.
Back? Great. You’ll need to watch it more than once to really let it sink in. Anyway, the credits pointed me to Stephane Wrembel, acclaimed as the finest personification of Django’s gypsy jazz, and I thought you should know.
usic tends to be visceral, skipping past our filters, needling its way to the real stuff inside. Michael Nesmith does this to me more than most musicians. Listening to ‘Silver Moon’ right now I am struck, once again, by how completely his early solo work affected my perception of music. To this day, nearly all my songwriting is aimed at crafting my own Joanne or Silver Moon.
t the opening guitar riff, I wasn’t sure if this was going to be a good crunchy blues or one of those polished pablum tunes from the radio. Turns out, Hollis Brown’s Show Love is polished and crunchy at the same time. I find myself humming the tune for hours after I’ve heard it, and the musicianship is a nice balance between expected and exceptional. It makes a real difference having a vocalist who sounds like a real person and not an escapee from a boy band.
Neat use of two complementary guitars. Every time the opening riff is repeated it feels more fun. Then the song ends with an inverted version of the riff that seems to die out before it was finished; somebody didn’t feel the need to be overly serious about the whole thing (the word ‘fun’ keeps coming to mind about the whole song.)
y kids introduced me to a whole string of video games about a guy named Mario, but I don’t think that’s who Jesse Cook is talking about. Somehow, Mario Takes a Walk completely possesses me every time I hear it; it’s one of those rare songs where both the live and studio versions I’ve heard punch me right in the solar plexus.
Thumping danceable drums annoy me. Except sometimes. Adding a ‘thump thump thump’ to most music turns me off completely, so I have no explanation for why Cook’s music, which is nearly always flamenco guitar and thump, grabs me like it does.
Daniel Edlen paints Vinyl Art, portraits of musicians and entertainers on vinyl records made by the subject. Instead of Elvis on velvet, think Elvis on an Elvis record.
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I could send you stuff. I'm not sure what, though.