I actually sang Albert King's "Born Under A Bad Sign" before I ever heard the original, back at the age of 19, lead singer with the legendary Phoenix Blues Band on the Vineyard, actually covering a cover of the original by the Paul Butterfield Blues Band. It wasn't until decades later cassette-diving in a mega music store closeout bin, coming up with the REAL "Born", which is actually a collection of his greatest hits, that I realized the extent of his talents. Albert's legacy ranks him as one of the "Three Kings" of the blues- BB King, Albert King and Freddie King.
The late bluesman cast a long shadow - literally. The guitarist stood 6' 4 " tall and weighed 250 pounds. His nickname was the " Velvet Bulldozer" , which stemmed - not from his size - but from the fact that he drove a bulldozer to earn money at different points in his career.
King was born Albert King Nelson in April 1923 on a cotton plantation in Indianola, Mississippi. His first exposure to music was singing in a family gospel group at a local church where his father also played guitar. King's professional career started with a band called "In The Groove Boys" from Arkansas. He spent time in Gary, Indiana and St. Louis, briefly playing drums on several Jimmy Reed recordings.
King's first "hit" was a tune by Little Milton - "I'm a Lonely Man" - which Albert cut in 1959, but his first major release went to Number 14 on Billboard's R & B chart in 1961, called "Don't Throw Your Love on Me So Strong". He had adapted the Gibson "Flying V" guitar as his trademark. King recorded with several regional labels, but his career took off when he signed with the legendary Stax label in Memphis in 1966. The guitarist cut several tunes with Booker T and The MGs, including "Crosscut Saw."Stax released "Born Under A Bad Sign" a year later, which was actually a collection of all the "sides" King cut for the label.
His signature tune has been covered not only by Paul Butterfield, but Cream,. Jimi Hendrix, Bad Company's Paul Rodgers and Homer Simpson (?). King was a superstar at the age of 44.
Albert King was also unique because of his linkage to San Francisco's legendary Fillmore Auditorium, as he played several gigs for Bill Graham,and cut a couple of live albums there. The legendary collaboration with Stevie Ray Vaughan also propelled King into the mainstream, Vaughan identifying King as his greatest influence. Ironically - to me, anyway - Albert King had an influence on Albert Collins - both of them do what I call blue collar blues. After all, King has a whole song about his baby cheating on him, by heading down to the laundromat to meet up with her lover, right up there with Collins' "The Lights Are On". Albert King also dabbled unsuccessfully in trying to sound like the African American Perry Como with mixed success.
Bottom line, when King died December 21, 1992, musicians like Mick Taylor, Joe Walsh, Mike Bloomfield, Eric Clapton, Derek Trucks, Warren Haynes paid him homage along with numerous others proving convincingly that Albert King wasn't just Born Under A Bad Sign -he was Born Under A SUPERBAD Sign!
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Goodbye Lou
The first time I ever got close to Lou Reed was at the tender age of 17 or so, staying in an apartment on St Mark's Square in New York City. Across the street was a club called the Electric Circus with a semi permanent line waiting to get in, since it had just opened and was apparently hot. The headliners were The Velvet Underground.
I bought their first album with the zeppelin-sized banana, and decided that the key to the group was the mysterious Niko. She was mesmerizing, a cool blonde with a bottomless voice, especially on "I'll Be Your Mirror". Despite the fact that she could definitely sing, it became obvious that Lou Reed was the creative force behind the band. Songs like "Heroin" and "I'm Waiting For The Man" established Reed as a creative voice as well as unofficial documentarian of the Manhattan "scene" which, at the time, was dominated by Andy Warhol. Reed and Warhol bonded, Warhol creating the giant banana on the cover , inviting the listener/purchaser to peel off the outer banana only to reveal another banana underneath.
After the band fell apart, Reed went on to success in his solo career, probably capped by the album "Transformer" in 1972, which also featured his biggest "hit" - "Walk On The Wild Side". His sly, jaded vocal is underscored by a smooth sax solo as well as one of the most repeated choruses of the 20th Century:
"And the colored girls go: Dit,dit,dit,dit-ta-dit-dit..."
No question that Reed's long career created the groundwork for punk, but he also influenced the "grundge" bands of the Pacific Northwest - Pearl Jam and Nirvana. Reed's tired vocals are a close parallel to Kurt Cobain, that same kind of world weary resignation. It's ironic that ,while the emerging San Francisco scene in the late 1960s emphasized peace,love,acid and rock and roll, the New York experience was the other end of the spectrum- dirty and scruffy and extremely real.
When Reed died on October 27 from liver disease at the age of 71, luminaries from David Byrne and David Bowie to Samuel L. Jackson to author Salmon Rushdie paid their respects. His hip contributions to the New York club scene stand on their own merits, Lou Reed capturing in his own unique way a slice of Gotham culture.
I bought their first album with the zeppelin-sized banana, and decided that the key to the group was the mysterious Niko. She was mesmerizing, a cool blonde with a bottomless voice, especially on "I'll Be Your Mirror". Despite the fact that she could definitely sing, it became obvious that Lou Reed was the creative force behind the band. Songs like "Heroin" and "I'm Waiting For The Man" established Reed as a creative voice as well as unofficial documentarian of the Manhattan "scene" which, at the time, was dominated by Andy Warhol. Reed and Warhol bonded, Warhol creating the giant banana on the cover , inviting the listener/purchaser to peel off the outer banana only to reveal another banana underneath.
After the band fell apart, Reed went on to success in his solo career, probably capped by the album "Transformer" in 1972, which also featured his biggest "hit" - "Walk On The Wild Side". His sly, jaded vocal is underscored by a smooth sax solo as well as one of the most repeated choruses of the 20th Century:
"And the colored girls go: Dit,dit,dit,dit-ta-dit-dit..."
No question that Reed's long career created the groundwork for punk, but he also influenced the "grundge" bands of the Pacific Northwest - Pearl Jam and Nirvana. Reed's tired vocals are a close parallel to Kurt Cobain, that same kind of world weary resignation. It's ironic that ,while the emerging San Francisco scene in the late 1960s emphasized peace,love,acid and rock and roll, the New York experience was the other end of the spectrum- dirty and scruffy and extremely real.
When Reed died on October 27 from liver disease at the age of 71, luminaries from David Byrne and David Bowie to Samuel L. Jackson to author Salmon Rushdie paid their respects. His hip contributions to the New York club scene stand on their own merits, Lou Reed capturing in his own unique way a slice of Gotham culture.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Growing Up With Tom Rush
I remember vividly sitting in the Mooncusser Coffee House on Circuit Avenue in Oak Bluffs at the clumsy, awkward age of 15, spending my diminutive salary from the Chilmark Community Center on flavored caffeine drinks and seeing Tom Rush. The set would invariably end with "Wasn't That A Mighty Storm?" Imagine my surprise when I channel surfed past WGBH the other day and discovered Tom playing " Mighty Storm" just the way he did back in Oak Bluffs, sliding a knife up and down the guitar neck, belting out the chorus-" Wasn't that a MIGHT-EE storm in the mornin-now-" Except this time, he was backed by a string of musical luminaries including Jonathon Edwards and David Bromberg, not to mention several guitars electric and acoustic, violin, mandolin, bass,drums and two keyboards.Unbeknownst to yours truly, Tom is marking 50 years of being Tom Rush. He explained that "Storm" had been adapted by the legendary Eric Von Schmidt from a recording by the Reverend Sin-Killer Griffth on Easter of 1942 in a Texas prison.
"Panama Limited", the other show ending virtuoso slide tune that I remember from the Circuit Avenue era, had to do with two lovers, the man waiting for the train with the woman, who keeps begging him not to part. Rush would create different sounds witn the strings, at one point imitating the sound of sticking your ear on the rail to hear the train coming, another duplicating the engine slowing as it pulled into the station. Bo Diddley's classic "Who Do You Love?" was yet another Mooncusser favorite brought back to life in the 2013 concert, Tom's sardonic vocal -"I walked 47 miles of BARBED WIRE - Got a brand new house on the ROAD SIDE - Made outta RATTLESNAKE HIDE!" - and precise picking complemented by a rocking back up band, blending into a few choruses of "Hey Bo Diddley" in the mix.
The emotional high point that evoked a plethora of memories was Rush's mostly solo versions of "No Regrets" - "Rockport Sunday" - taking me back to many long solo rides down endless interstates fleeing dead relationships. The emotional content of the fragile chords and understated vocal wasn't lost on the immediate audience as well. His playing has always been measured and just about flawless, so each languorous chord seemed to hang effortlessly only to be replaced by the next, a lonely yet somehow reassuring melody, Ever since I started writing about the song two days ago, I have been unable to get it out of my head. I remember when this music was my companion, alone in my prep school garret, or driving around aimlessly during the twelve hour stretch of weekend that was typical of my alleged radio career, evoking pleasing images of afternoon sunlight glinting on blue fall ocean, of gentle but rocky North Shore coastline, of two pairs of footprints on a broad swath of sand.
I wouldn't be fair to Tom Rush if I didn't also mention "Joshua Gone Barbados" , his Caribbean flavored blues song that also dates from the Mooncusser days, the story of a labor organizer who abandons striking sugar cane workers on the island of Saint Vincent, with its' sad, sad refrain: "Joshua gone Barbados / Just like he don't know / People on the island / They got many a sad tale to tell." Another personal favorite of mine has always been "On the Road Again", no relation to the country anthem, but an understated road hymn to traveling musicians.
I realize now that there is very little continuity in my life, so hearing Tom Rush 50 years after the fact was strangely reassuring, providing my own kind of internal unity, linking past and present. His music may not be as well known as the Beatles or Bruce Springsteen, but Tom Rush's impact on the folk music scene was just as powerful and just as lasting.
"Panama Limited", the other show ending virtuoso slide tune that I remember from the Circuit Avenue era, had to do with two lovers, the man waiting for the train with the woman, who keeps begging him not to part. Rush would create different sounds witn the strings, at one point imitating the sound of sticking your ear on the rail to hear the train coming, another duplicating the engine slowing as it pulled into the station. Bo Diddley's classic "Who Do You Love?" was yet another Mooncusser favorite brought back to life in the 2013 concert, Tom's sardonic vocal -"I walked 47 miles of BARBED WIRE - Got a brand new house on the ROAD SIDE - Made outta RATTLESNAKE HIDE!" - and precise picking complemented by a rocking back up band, blending into a few choruses of "Hey Bo Diddley" in the mix.
The emotional high point that evoked a plethora of memories was Rush's mostly solo versions of "No Regrets" - "Rockport Sunday" - taking me back to many long solo rides down endless interstates fleeing dead relationships. The emotional content of the fragile chords and understated vocal wasn't lost on the immediate audience as well. His playing has always been measured and just about flawless, so each languorous chord seemed to hang effortlessly only to be replaced by the next, a lonely yet somehow reassuring melody, Ever since I started writing about the song two days ago, I have been unable to get it out of my head. I remember when this music was my companion, alone in my prep school garret, or driving around aimlessly during the twelve hour stretch of weekend that was typical of my alleged radio career, evoking pleasing images of afternoon sunlight glinting on blue fall ocean, of gentle but rocky North Shore coastline, of two pairs of footprints on a broad swath of sand.
I wouldn't be fair to Tom Rush if I didn't also mention "Joshua Gone Barbados" , his Caribbean flavored blues song that also dates from the Mooncusser days, the story of a labor organizer who abandons striking sugar cane workers on the island of Saint Vincent, with its' sad, sad refrain: "Joshua gone Barbados / Just like he don't know / People on the island / They got many a sad tale to tell." Another personal favorite of mine has always been "On the Road Again", no relation to the country anthem, but an understated road hymn to traveling musicians.
I realize now that there is very little continuity in my life, so hearing Tom Rush 50 years after the fact was strangely reassuring, providing my own kind of internal unity, linking past and present. His music may not be as well known as the Beatles or Bruce Springsteen, but Tom Rush's impact on the folk music scene was just as powerful and just as lasting.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Tunes For Trayvon - Or - Where's the 21st Century Bob Dylan?
Yesterday I heard Steel Pulse' " Put Your Hoodies On" which says, among other things:
I'm go break it down-I don't understand it really - Imagine that was me -
That was walking with my hoodie
Another young life straight-Taken from a bullet - or should I say bully?
Trayvon attacked him? But how could he?
When all the evidence never added up fully...
Ain't no doubt in Jim Crow's South
Won't shut my mouth - its all about the hoodies"
It was written by singer David 'Dread' Hines as a "..plea for justice" who goes on to say:" We sensed the result but despite the outcome of the trial, the truth remains the truth and the ghost of justice will haunt this town of Sanford,Florida-forever."
I still remember the impact a young Bob Dylan had on me in the Sixties with " Oxford Town", documenting the state of Mississippi's staunch determination to keep James Meredith from getting a college degree, Bob pointing out:
Oxford town-Oxford town
Everybody's walkin' with their heads bowed down
Don't even know why we come
Better go back to where we come from
So where are the protest songs of today - the ones documenting the environmental mega-disasters like Exxon Valdez or BP in the Gulf, or bemoaning the fact that we are still in Afghanistan or complaining about the NSA surveillance program ? True, there are some gangsta rap songs that bitch about not having enough bling or a pimped out ride, but it seems the long standing American musical tradition of "social commentary" songs is dying out. The Dust Bowl laments and workingman's tunes of Woody Guthrie or Pete Seeger seem quaint compared to flash mobs and cyberattacks.
As far as tributes to Trayvon are concerned, Stevie Wonder says he'll no longer perform in any state with "Stand Your Ground" laws, Bruce Springsteen dedicated "American Skin" to Trayvon at a concert in Ireland, and both Beyonce and Jay Z met Trayvon's mother at a New York rally. The weirdest musical moment connected to the verdict happened in California when 73 year old Lester Chambers of the legendary Chambers Brothers was attacked onstage when he dedicated a song to Martin. According to eyewitnesses, a forty three year concert goer in Hayward, California jumped onstage , screaming "It's all your fault" before hitting Chambers.
Protest songs are not entirely dead; they will always be alive and well in coffeehouses and the small venues that still support folk music. I'm just waiting to see who is going to fill Bob Dylan's shoes
I'm go break it down-I don't understand it really - Imagine that was me -
That was walking with my hoodie
Another young life straight-Taken from a bullet - or should I say bully?
Trayvon attacked him? But how could he?
When all the evidence never added up fully...
Ain't no doubt in Jim Crow's South
Won't shut my mouth - its all about the hoodies"
It was written by singer David 'Dread' Hines as a "..plea for justice" who goes on to say:" We sensed the result but despite the outcome of the trial, the truth remains the truth and the ghost of justice will haunt this town of Sanford,Florida-forever."
I still remember the impact a young Bob Dylan had on me in the Sixties with " Oxford Town", documenting the state of Mississippi's staunch determination to keep James Meredith from getting a college degree, Bob pointing out:
Oxford town-Oxford town
Everybody's walkin' with their heads bowed down
Don't even know why we come
Better go back to where we come from
So where are the protest songs of today - the ones documenting the environmental mega-disasters like Exxon Valdez or BP in the Gulf, or bemoaning the fact that we are still in Afghanistan or complaining about the NSA surveillance program ? True, there are some gangsta rap songs that bitch about not having enough bling or a pimped out ride, but it seems the long standing American musical tradition of "social commentary" songs is dying out. The Dust Bowl laments and workingman's tunes of Woody Guthrie or Pete Seeger seem quaint compared to flash mobs and cyberattacks.
As far as tributes to Trayvon are concerned, Stevie Wonder says he'll no longer perform in any state with "Stand Your Ground" laws, Bruce Springsteen dedicated "American Skin" to Trayvon at a concert in Ireland, and both Beyonce and Jay Z met Trayvon's mother at a New York rally. The weirdest musical moment connected to the verdict happened in California when 73 year old Lester Chambers of the legendary Chambers Brothers was attacked onstage when he dedicated a song to Martin. According to eyewitnesses, a forty three year concert goer in Hayward, California jumped onstage , screaming "It's all your fault" before hitting Chambers.
Protest songs are not entirely dead; they will always be alive and well in coffeehouses and the small venues that still support folk music. I'm just waiting to see who is going to fill Bob Dylan's shoes
Thursday, June 6, 2013
The Real Ironman
Most of you have never heard of Michael Burks, who died a year ago in May. In his short 54 year long life, his debut album - called Make It Rain - was named one of the Top 200 greatest guitar recordings of all time by GuitarOne magazine. Burks also won the Sonny Payne Award for Blues Excellence in 2006 from the Delta Cultural Center and Living Blues magazine 2004 Critics' Award for Best Guitarist, releasing three overpowering CDs on Alligator. He had developed a legend as a "roads" scholar, who wracked up thousands of miles driving his own van from gig to gig, pretty much a necessity if an artist wants to connect to the pockets of blues aficionados scattered across the country.
Burks comes to life on Tommy Castro's Legendary R & B Review with his overpowering 10 minute virtuoso cut "Voodoo Chile". His rough voice sails soulfully from one intense verse to the next, accompanied by the monstrous sound of his guitar, spinning off riffs that sound like Jimi Hendrix or Smokin' Joe Kubek at times. but really just showcase Burks' incredible range on the instrument. The song starts out slowly and innocently like most good blues tunes do, carefully building to a spine-straightening crescendo.
One article I read on the " prestigious Internet " (Thank you for that phrase, Al Franken ! ) attributed a "blue collar" work ethic to Burks' relentless touring schedule, which made me think of Albert Collins, since his lyrics - like "The Lights Are On" or "Too Many Dirty Dishes" - reflect "workingman's" concerns, making me wonder if there really should be a new category called "blue collar blues". Check out "Make It Rain" or " I Smell Smoke" and - of course - "Ironman" , and see what you think.
Like so many other performers, Michael Burks died on the job, collapsing at the Atlanta International Airport after touring Europe, suffering a heart attack. His spirit and his stinging guitar riffs - luckily - live on.
Burks comes to life on Tommy Castro's Legendary R & B Review with his overpowering 10 minute virtuoso cut "Voodoo Chile". His rough voice sails soulfully from one intense verse to the next, accompanied by the monstrous sound of his guitar, spinning off riffs that sound like Jimi Hendrix or Smokin' Joe Kubek at times. but really just showcase Burks' incredible range on the instrument. The song starts out slowly and innocently like most good blues tunes do, carefully building to a spine-straightening crescendo.
One article I read on the " prestigious Internet " (Thank you for that phrase, Al Franken ! ) attributed a "blue collar" work ethic to Burks' relentless touring schedule, which made me think of Albert Collins, since his lyrics - like "The Lights Are On" or "Too Many Dirty Dishes" - reflect "workingman's" concerns, making me wonder if there really should be a new category called "blue collar blues". Check out "Make It Rain" or " I Smell Smoke" and - of course - "Ironman" , and see what you think.
Like so many other performers, Michael Burks died on the job, collapsing at the Atlanta International Airport after touring Europe, suffering a heart attack. His spirit and his stinging guitar riffs - luckily - live on.
Sunday, May 5, 2013
George Jones: The King of Broken Hearts
My first "real" radio job was doing the news part time on W104 FM in scenic Prospect, Connecticut. The high point of my broadcast day was reading the news at noon right after the National Anthem, heavily ironic since I was going to graduate school at Kent State at the time. I received the princely sum of $25 per week to read the headlines and babysit the format, country and western hits past and present basically regurgitated from a vast library of reel to reel tapes by computer. Although we were well north of the Mason Dixon line and the Grand Old Opry, the station was Number 3 in the state, allegedly listened to by the Governor !
My initial disdain and resistance to the hillbilly ballads gradually broke down over time, being forced to listen eight hours a day weekdays, twelve on Saturdays. I would start anticipating when certain tunes would come up in rotation, like "Third Rate Romance" or "Dropkick Me Jesus Through The Goalposts of Life" or my personal favorite song title, "She's Thinking Single So I'm Drinking Doubles." It started to sink into my skull that the more mainstream artists that could "crossover" into adult contemporary - Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, Kris Kristofferson, Crystal Gale - owed a big debt to the Nashville stalwarts - Hank Williams, Patsy Cline, Buck Owens, Merle Haggard ,and the king and queen , George Jones and Tammy Wynette.
Jones' voice can wring tears out of the most mournful "cheatin' heart" lyrics, the perfect match for the lonesome whine of a pedal steel guitar, evoking last call in a smoke filled, half darkened bar, weeping into your favorite adult beverage.
George Jones was born in Texas in 1931, and racked up 150 hit songs before he died in Nashville last month. He first sprung onto the charts with the country classic "White Lightnin'' in 1959, a tribute to his favorite drug of choice, alcohol and eventually cocaine, Jones' wild lifestyle earning him the nickname of "No Show" Jones. But his most renowned tunes are all about broken hearts - "She Thinks I Still Care" (1962) or the classic "He Stopped Loving Her Today" (1980) , the video depicting a well groomed and leisure-suited Jones resembling an earnest country preacher, his voice choking on the plaintive words. When George married Tammy in 1969, they ascended to the top of country royalty, their stormy relationship ample fodder for the Nashville faithful, the marriage collapsing to the point where they promised "We're Gonna Hold On" in a 1973 duet, but two years later, the playlist had changed to "D-I-V-O-R-C-E". Besides Wynette, George sang with Merle Haggard, Randy Travis and Garth Brooks, performing right up to his death.
No matter what you think about country and western, some night when you're remembering a long lost love, George Jones is there when you need him, his tearful voice a reminder that you are not alone.
My initial disdain and resistance to the hillbilly ballads gradually broke down over time, being forced to listen eight hours a day weekdays, twelve on Saturdays. I would start anticipating when certain tunes would come up in rotation, like "Third Rate Romance" or "Dropkick Me Jesus Through The Goalposts of Life" or my personal favorite song title, "She's Thinking Single So I'm Drinking Doubles." It started to sink into my skull that the more mainstream artists that could "crossover" into adult contemporary - Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, Kris Kristofferson, Crystal Gale - owed a big debt to the Nashville stalwarts - Hank Williams, Patsy Cline, Buck Owens, Merle Haggard ,and the king and queen , George Jones and Tammy Wynette.
Jones' voice can wring tears out of the most mournful "cheatin' heart" lyrics, the perfect match for the lonesome whine of a pedal steel guitar, evoking last call in a smoke filled, half darkened bar, weeping into your favorite adult beverage.
George Jones was born in Texas in 1931, and racked up 150 hit songs before he died in Nashville last month. He first sprung onto the charts with the country classic "White Lightnin'' in 1959, a tribute to his favorite drug of choice, alcohol and eventually cocaine, Jones' wild lifestyle earning him the nickname of "No Show" Jones. But his most renowned tunes are all about broken hearts - "She Thinks I Still Care" (1962) or the classic "He Stopped Loving Her Today" (1980) , the video depicting a well groomed and leisure-suited Jones resembling an earnest country preacher, his voice choking on the plaintive words. When George married Tammy in 1969, they ascended to the top of country royalty, their stormy relationship ample fodder for the Nashville faithful, the marriage collapsing to the point where they promised "We're Gonna Hold On" in a 1973 duet, but two years later, the playlist had changed to "D-I-V-O-R-C-E". Besides Wynette, George sang with Merle Haggard, Randy Travis and Garth Brooks, performing right up to his death.
No matter what you think about country and western, some night when you're remembering a long lost love, George Jones is there when you need him, his tearful voice a reminder that you are not alone.
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Back From The Dead For One Night Only
The ghoulish aspects of popular culture are evident in ventures like the latest Jimi Hendrix CD, People, Hell and Angels, which hit the charts this month. I remember some hushed rumors right after his death that hundreds of hours of Hendrix tapes existed that would be gradually released, but wouldn't that be the case with any electronic entertainer, since performances are now - and have been for the past 100 years or so - recorded and archived. Twenty first century technology is also breathing new life into old content, with colorization and hi def and digitization
Think of the implications - vaults chock full of unreleased stuff from the Beatles to the Stones all the way back down to Elvis, Chuck Berry and Hank Williams. This is a boon for the recording industry - no troublesome artists to appease, no radio music directors to schmooze and cajole into "breaking" a new artist, no expensive tour schedule to expose new bands,just recycling the proven hitmakers and counting the profits. Although "live" shows are difficult with dead artists, holographic tours are a distinct possibility. It's "Rock n Roll Heaven" on earth - for example, you could create your own favorite cyber line-up - Elvis, The Beatles, The Stones, The Who, Pink Floyd - and experience it in the comfort of your own audio/visual cave without having to go through a metal detector, find someone sitting in your seat which cost a c note and is still several thousand feet in elevation from the stage, or have someone you've never seen before simply pass out on you as I did during a memorable J Geils extravaganza at the Garden.
The implications for popular culture are a bit different. Recycled TV series featuring long dead celebrities are coming back to life thanks to cable, computerized images of icons from John Wayne to Chris Farley still plug products from beyond the grave (Their relatives can collect fees up until 50 years after the celeb's demise, at least in California), and the recording industry strategically releases legendary artist trax. These are the true zombies of the mass media - forget The Walking Dead. What if so-called talent simply gets swallowed up by re-makes and re-runs digitally enhanced so you can re-experience the experience?
Naturally, the chances are that the music conglomerates will continue to invest in "brands" - the soulful female chanteuse, the wailing rocker, the straightforward hillbilly. Hopefully the day won't come when the cost of marketing and promotion begins to outweigh investing in unproven artists, but the plethora of technological enhancements can seemingly bring back the digitally enhanced dead to compete with the living not just one night only but any night you choose.
Think of the implications - vaults chock full of unreleased stuff from the Beatles to the Stones all the way back down to Elvis, Chuck Berry and Hank Williams. This is a boon for the recording industry - no troublesome artists to appease, no radio music directors to schmooze and cajole into "breaking" a new artist, no expensive tour schedule to expose new bands,just recycling the proven hitmakers and counting the profits. Although "live" shows are difficult with dead artists, holographic tours are a distinct possibility. It's "Rock n Roll Heaven" on earth - for example, you could create your own favorite cyber line-up - Elvis, The Beatles, The Stones, The Who, Pink Floyd - and experience it in the comfort of your own audio/visual cave without having to go through a metal detector, find someone sitting in your seat which cost a c note and is still several thousand feet in elevation from the stage, or have someone you've never seen before simply pass out on you as I did during a memorable J Geils extravaganza at the Garden.
The implications for popular culture are a bit different. Recycled TV series featuring long dead celebrities are coming back to life thanks to cable, computerized images of icons from John Wayne to Chris Farley still plug products from beyond the grave (Their relatives can collect fees up until 50 years after the celeb's demise, at least in California), and the recording industry strategically releases legendary artist trax. These are the true zombies of the mass media - forget The Walking Dead. What if so-called talent simply gets swallowed up by re-makes and re-runs digitally enhanced so you can re-experience the experience?
Naturally, the chances are that the music conglomerates will continue to invest in "brands" - the soulful female chanteuse, the wailing rocker, the straightforward hillbilly. Hopefully the day won't come when the cost of marketing and promotion begins to outweigh investing in unproven artists, but the plethora of technological enhancements can seemingly bring back the digitally enhanced dead to compete with the living not just one night only but any night you choose.
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