Music With A Message: A Tale of Two Commercials

You know the credit card couple. Their smug, self-centered expressions dominate TV these days, strangely disconnected from the job creation figures, foreclosure rates, and steadily rising bankruptcies. Back in the nostalgic 90s, they would have been super yuppies, revered for an urban lifestyle encompassing exotic restaurants, excessive gadgetry, cutting edge fashion and serious if-you've-got-it-flaunt-it attitude. In 2010, it just seems frayed around the edges, irritating and unrealistic, but this portrait of excess - like a lot of the commercials forced down our collective throats - is also dependent on the choice of music.


Frank Sinatra's talent and persona were the first cultural contraband grafted on the opening chapter in the contrived lives of the credit card couple, Sinatra crooning "The Way You Look Tonight" as the Dragon Lady (The woman) tells Shallow Man (The man) that she's just screwed him out of his bonus points by picking up a new dress. Apparently, 21st century relationships in commercials are based on exploitation, one partner constantly trumping the other by seeing how much money they can spend on pointless luxury. Sinatra conveys the right "feel" - the lush music accenting his tribute to beautiful women, evoking that Rat Pack sensibility which - in contrast to rap content - celebrated the "ladies". There must be people just like the cc's - a lot of them, or the company wouldn't have made the commercial. I'm probably reading too much into it , but it does illustrate what Jean Paul Sartre meant when he said: "Hell is other people." The other portrait of excess celebrates the great American tradition of giving money to newlyweds, using John Sebastian's "Do You Believe In Magic?" as background while the new husband and wife spend their first night depositing checks and adding up the loot. Is this the best American culture has to offer - excess and greed?


At the other end of the spectrum , light years away from urban smugness, is the peaceful, comfortable, Baby Boomer - friendly portrait of sunshine, beautiful mountains by pristine lakes,kids and nature, underscored by Harry McClintock's wistful description of "The Big Rock Candy Mountain". The song sounds at first like a Depression era lament for those imaginary places where suffering and hunger don't exist, but it is closer to a friendly tribute - glorifying the hobo life, always wandering off on another adventure, whistling down the railroad tracks. The familiar imagery in the commercial evokes tradition, security and comfort enhanced by the bouncy, optimistic tune that encompasses the magic of childhood. Some days when the Dow is plunging, the jobless claims are rising and the creditors are calling, it seems we could all use a trip to the Big Rock Candy Mountain.

The most obvious rationale for the choices of music in both ads is the most familiar - age. The cc couple are the new faces of the 21st century - supposedly - while the content of the Baby Boomer friendly commercial is a reminder that childhood endures.


By the way, I was surprised to find out that this is my 101st post - a milestone I guess, especially when I always think my next one will be my last. Thanks for your support.

The NEW Talking Blues - Guitar Shorty / Holmes Brothers

Listen to artists like Big Bill Broonzey or Bessie Smith or any one of the leading blues musicians from the 1930s and you'll hear political commentary as well as economic misery set to music - the so-called "talking" blues. Bessie Smith's lasting contribution to hard times -"Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out"- never sounds dated, including Bessie's wry observation -"no man'll want you when you're down and out" - a harbinger of women's lib. Big Bill Broonzy's "Mule Riding Blues" is a sardonic look at poverty and class distinctions that characterized the Depression.

Fast forward from the 1930s to the 2010s. The "talking' blues are alive and well. The best example is Guitar Shorty's "Please Mr President" from his CD Bare Knuckle (Alligator) released a year before Occupy Wall Street, with the poignant refrain "Please Mr. President- lay some stimulus on on me!." Shorty's guitar solos make your eardrums bleed - his playing is supposed to have influenced both Jimi Hendrix and Buddy Guy - but singing is not his forte. It's the lyrics that get the point across: "Now I sure don't mind workin' - I'm not scared to break a sweat - I'm not lookin' for a bailout - but I gotta pay my debts!" (Guitar Shorty on Amazon). Shorty, whose real name is David Kearney, was "on message" months before the occupiers started pitching their tents, upholding the talking blues tradition of telling it like it IS!

The Holmes' Brothers have a somewhat similar lament on their CD Feed My Soul (Alligator), which was recorded in North Brookfield, Massachusetts. Instead of cutting right to the bone, they try to grin and bear it in "Edge of the Ledge" with the satirical refrain: "Standing on my head at the edge of the ledge/tryin' to figure out how to keep my family fed/I lost my job, they even repossessed my bed/standing on my head at the edge of the ledge" (Wendell Holmes, 2009). Wendell and Sherman Holmes' music ranges from blues to gospel,especially the title tune, but "Ledge" stands out as "black" humor, no pun intended.

The rebirth of the talking blues stems from the Sixties, when artists from Bob Dylan to Phil Ochs to Jim Kweskin began reviving the genre, but instead of mixing humor and irony in describing the human condition, they started a new tradition of getting right to the heart of the matter. I'm wondering if we should make "Please Mr. President" required listening for the House, the Senate and the White House the next time they decide to bail out the banks. Maybe they'll finally get the message!

The Search For Soul

I've been seeing promos for "Soul Train" on my local cable channels, the vistas of huge Afros, vintage Aretha Franklin, Marvin Gay, Billy Paul, the Jacksons and the rest reviving funky musical memories, as well as the soul drenched ,basso profondo voice of Don Cornelius, the hippest MC of all time, which made me start thinking about "soul". It is one of those terms like "sustainability" that people use but never really define."Soul" to me has always been synonymous with Motown, the lush orchestral backgrounds and soaring vocal harmonies combining in plaintive ballads about lost loves.


In search of clarification, I turned to that pinnacle of internet knowledge - Wikipedia - to see what soul is. The article quotes the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame , defining soul music as: "music that arose out of the black experience in America through the transmutation of gospel and rt hymn and blues into a form of funky, secular testifying." Wikipedia says soul began in the US in the late 1950s and flourished from the 1960s to the 1980s. The most interesting aspect of the entry to yours truly was that (the) "Motown Sound" is defined as a "sub genre" while "Memphis soul, Philly soul" etc., are all called "regional scenes." The article goes on to document the soul sound "spectrum" but my eyes glazed over pretty quickly once I started drowning in terminology. For example, the Stax/Volt sound - Booker T, Steve Cropper, Wilson Pickett - is closer to what I would call funk - but then James Brown is included as a subset of soul as well and if JB isn't funky, then what is? There's also something called "blue-eyed soul" which must be a catch-all term for people like Michael McDonald and all those other white guys with "soul".


After all this in-depth research, I still don't know exactly what soul is, but I feel the closest I may have ever come to hearing soul raw and unplugged was at a South Carolina church service. I volunteered one February to go with both my daughters to Hollywood, South Carolina as part of a mission trip to rehab houses for residents of the Sea Islands. We all stayed in a day care center attached to a church, and Sunday was the first full day on site, so we began with a marathon three hour church service. Besides piano and electric organ, the church had a bass player and a drummer and a chorus that all sounded exactly like Aretha -soul live and in person from the heart.

Bottom line, no matter what soul really is, you either have it or you don't, which applies to artists from Tom Jones to Usher to Patti Labelle to Beyonce. Say amen, someone.

Live From 1964: The TAMI Show

Jan & Dean ! The Beach Boys ! James Brown! Chuck Berry! Marvin Gaye! Lesly Gore ! Gerry and the Pacemakers! The Barbarians ! (?) As the hype read back in 1964, when the Teen Age Music International concert was staged in Santa Monica, "It's The Greatest,Grooviest,Wildest, Most Exciting Beat Blast Ever To Pound The Screen!!!!" Looking at the show the other night with my longtime musical amigo "Shade" Melton, I was amazed at how well the performances were captured relative to technology c. 1964. Apparently, various disputes over - you know - money held up release of the DVD until last month.


I've seen Chuck Berry three times and James Brown twice, so I'm familiar with the energy they exude in every show. Both of these musical legends were in rare form. I've already documented what made JB bigger than life - his spins, his shrieks, his grunts, growls, groans and his soul-drenched ballads of thwarted love balanced by the uptempo funk dedicated to sex - "Hot Pants", "Cold Sweat"- or the occasional political commentary - "Say It Loud- I'm Black and I'm Proud", "Funky President". All the moves are captured here for future generations, including my favorite "cape" routine - the Godfather of Soul is so overcome with misery, begging his woman to take him back, that he sinks to his knees, collapsing, exhausted, every last drop of angst squeezed out of his soul, only to suddenly stumble to his feet, throwing off the fur fringed cape that his handler has placed reverently on his shoulders, ready to beg for his love just one more time - a routine that would be repeated at least twice at the end of JB's extravaganza, the first farewell occurring when Soul Brother Number One finally allows himself to be guided offstage before the audience screams for more. Chuck Berry opened the show , already a legend in 1964, grinning slyly as he waltzes through "Johnny B. Goode", "Maybelline" and - ironically - "Sweet Little Sixteen." As if to illustrate the music industry practice of constantly stealing other performers' material, The Beach Boys open up their segment a few minutes later with "Surfin' USA" , set to the melody of - guess what? - "Sweet Little Sixteen." The movie "Cadillac Records" chronicles Berry's discovery that he has been ripped off, the implication being that black artists can never be popular without a white artist "covering" their tunes.

The Wilson Brothers, Mike Love and Al Jardine are pure California, striped shirts, white jeans and floppy hair advertising sun, fun and surfing. They run through"I Get Around" as well as one of the best slow dancing tunes from that era - "Surfer Girl" ("In My Room" is even better). Brian Wilson is front and center, grinning and strumming, and - according to Shade - about six weeks away from freaking out and retreating to his bedroom sandbox, his fifteen minutes effectively over.

The Barbarians were included in the line-up much to my surprise, although not performing their biggest hit "Are You A Boy or Are You A Girl?" , but featuring their star one-armed drummer Moulty, the best known member of the Cape Cod based band. Motown is ably represented by a young Marvin Gaye as well as Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, both performers at the beginning of their long and successful careers, the most remarkable part of their appearances being the fact that black and white artists are together in the same show, breaking the racial barriers that were still firmly in place in the mid 1960s. Lesley Gore's New Jersey teenaged angst is amply represented with an appearance that seems to go on interminably until she finally sings "It's My Party". The TAMI show also included the Rolling Stones, a last minute addition, along with Gerry and the Pacemakers.

TAMI was hosted by those bleached blonde California endless summer surfing dudes Jan & Dean. It was worth watching TAMI just to hear "The Little Old Lady From Pasadena" again, but I would have preferred "Deadman's Curve". The show predates music videos, sampling and the other trends in today's music, showcasing live, unedited talent, which to me is the best test of a performers' ability. You can do anything in the studio, but once you're live and onstage, there's no turning back. These performers demonstrated that they never lost sight of one of those important components in the music business that is frequently neglected these days - the audience.

Joe Auger Unplugged

Joe Auger doesn't have much time to spare from his duties as Media Services Manager at Roger Williams University in Bristol, Rhode Island. When he isn't handling and troubleshooting equipment, Joe devotes his spare hours to his second love: music. He is an unabashed Monkees and Beatles fan. BSRR managed to get Joe to slow down long enough recently to explain:


JOE AUGER:
My first musical memory is of Mickey Dolenz singing "I'm A Believer" and I would have been almost 2 years old when it first came out. As my sister was a big Monkees and Beatles fan, I was exposed to both groups both musically and visually.


BSRR:
What was it about the Beatles/Monkees sound that attracted you as a kid?


JOE AUGER:
The things that caught my ears for both bands were the vocals and harmonies especially and also the drums which were my first instrumental obsession! Vocally, between all of the members , there are very distinct sounds and styles of singing that when harmonizing together create this whole other unearthly sound that is like food from the Gods! I could subsist eternally on the harmonies of "Nowhere Man" or "Pleasant Valley Sunday"!


BSRR:
What instruments do you play beside the drums?


JOE AUGER:
Primarily guitars and other stringed instruments but also bass,drums, keyboards,saxes, flute,clarinet, and cello.


BSRR:
I guess when it comes to studio time, you are sort of a one man band.


JOE AUGER:
I know the rudiments of how to play most instruments so though I am not proficient on any one thing I can create a part and then learn to play it for the recordings.

BSRR:
How would you describe the local music scene in Rhode Island?

JOE AUGER:
The local scene is fairly scattered as there are not the venues to play that there used to be. There is a bit of an open mike culture.

BSRR:
How often do you practice?

JOE AUGER:
I don't practice a lot to be frank. I rehearse with the band Anne's Cordial that I play percussion for but my own stuff tends to get worked out at the open mike that I host on Wednesdays at the Everyman in Providence

Speaking of recordings, Joe has four available on his my space page - "Love (And Such)", "The Invisible Years", "Taken Monaurally" and "Taken Aurally". Before you categorize Joe's musical tastes as "totally pop", you might want to check his "desert island" list of top 20 albums ranging from The Moody Blues to Black Sabbath. He also pays homage to Tim Buckley's "Happy Sad" , Syd Barrett's "Madcap Laughs", and "We're Only In It For The Money" by the Mothers of Invention. All three artists have subcultural status, Buckley drowning in - of all places - the Mississippi River outside Memphis just as his career was starting to take off, Barrett teetering between insanity and genius as co-creator of Pink Floyd, and Zappa's relentless pursuit of stitching together musicians and modes to come up with something original.

Check out Joe Auger's extensive collection of music,musings ,videos and a lot more at www.myspace.com/joeauger. With the music industry fragmenting and the availability of social media, talented independent artists like Joe Auger are creating a very viable alternative to the Billboard "charts".

Just remember that, when it comes to Joe's "day" job, - as Bo Diddley puts it:" Don't judge a book by looking at the cover" !!!

February Blues

There are a lot of different topics that come to mind that I wanted to write about this month but I just couldn't settle on one subject. I started writing about love songs, but it was really just an excuse to repeat the lyrics to "Love Stinks". I actually just got two new CDS by Guitar Shorty and the Holmes Brothers - courtesy of Alligator - that I'm going to review. But it is hard to go through February without reconsidering the Station nightclub fire.


Seven years after the fact, I still can't believe it happened. It still seems surreal, unbelievable, unfathomable that so much carnage could happen so fast and so stupidly. A settlement has been reached for $176 million to be divided among the various parties - according to the Providence Journal - which is society's way of saying: "It's not important whose fault it is - take the money and run." Funny how nobody's responsible for anything any more - no one has to apologize or admit or acknowledge guilt. Every time there is a needless tragedy these days, the cause and effect become swallowed up by a tidal wave of empathy. We seem to spend more time absolving ourselves than being accountable.


To me, someone needs to be accountable for the 100 lives that were snuffed out, one of them being Mike Gonsalves, better known as "Gonzo" , renowned for his sense of humor, his zest for life , his willingness to help others, and - of course - his addiction to "metal" music. If you've read previous posts, you know that I hired Gonzo as an intern from Rhode Island College at WHJY. I guess the only way to rationalize his too short existence is to say that he died doing what he loved best. That doesn't excuse the laid-back mentality that allowed Great White's "crew" to think that they somehow had permission to fire off explosives directly into flammable material in a closed space, the slipshod chain of communication supposedly conveying permission from club management.


As with most Great American Tragedies, the media initially milks it for all it's worth, wringing out every graphic ounce of flesh, squeezing blood from every pore until the next horrific nightmare commands its attention, the newest calamity hopefully topping the last one. Seven years later, all that's left for the Station victims/survivors is a lot of sleepless nights, pain, suffering and eventually, once the lawyers skim off the fees, a little cash. The attention has been diverted from the fact that devastating fires, shootings and riots still occur routinely in cramped, windowless , crowded clubs around the world, making me wonder how many other Station - type disasters are simply waiting to happen.

Elvis: The Low Point?

After unsuccessfully resisting the urge to begin this post with a really bad Elvis Presley joke ( "What was Elvis' last hit?" - "The floor" (I don't have to explain that, do I?) ) I decided I should be charitable and try to address Elvis' impact on culture. Ironically, the textbook I use for my mass media classes identifies Elvis' appearence on Ed Sullivan as the high point of "low" culture. You've probably heard the "high" and "low" labels before but the labels are pretty transparent - "high" means museums, dance recitals, symphonies , Shakespearean plays - culture with a capital "C" - while "low" means professional wrestling, pop music, reality TV - culture for the so-called masses. This model held up pretty well when there was a vast socio-economic gap between the "high" and "low" classes, but it doesn't carry as much weight with the advent of the dominant middle class. Most of us are trapped in the morass of "middle" America, the suburban stew of credit cards, college loans and adjustable rate mortgages.

I certainly would never label Elvis Presley as "low" culture, mainly because I've always felt that any successful artist needs recognition in the marketplace to be respected; from my point of view, that makes Elvis' transition from a Mississippi shack to a Memphis mansion more significant than Michelangelo fawning for the Pope so he could finish the Sistine Chapel. Presley's stage persona appealed to wholesome white kids in the 50s because he was the personification of "race" music - a white man with a black voice.

The mushrooming middle class ( its growth fueled by the plethora of consumer products and the American postwar economy) adapted Elvis. They watched him grow from the skinny kid who just happened to cut "That's Alright" on the flip side of a record he was making for his Mama at Sun Records to a relentless performer enthroned in that mecca of middle class dreams - Las Vegas. Presley's life mirrored their experiences - he got drafted, he got married, he settled down with children, he got divorced, he dabbled with alcohol and drugs - reinforcing their shared identity.

When the crowd gathered at Graceland earlier this month to celebrate Elvis Presley's 75th birthday, they weren't concerned with "high" or "low" culture. Instead, they were mourning the death of a true middle class icon, the first man to bring the sound of the ghetto to Levittown.