Musician/musicologist Bruce Burnside has a lifelong affinity for the Civil War which began in his childhood , thanks to encouragement from his father: "..My dad introduced me to the Civil War when I was 5 or 6...Our house was FULL of trapdoor Springfields, cartridges and various pieces of military stuff...Being able to put coins in my pocket that existed during the Civil War, hold guns, ammunition, swords and knives from the period made it seem real..." The strongest connection between Bruce and the War Between The States is the fact that he is descended from Union General Ambrose Burnside (The General cast a long shadow in Rhode Island, as evidenced by the number of streets named after him as well as his statue - but that's another story).
Bruce Burnside decided to transform his love of Civil War history into a series of musical vignettes called "Unsung Heroes of the Civil War" , to make history come to life in an educational setting. The National Endowment for the Arts, in recognition of Burnside's work, has recently awarded him a Challenging America Grant to orchestrate the songs and do two local performances with a 24 piece chamber orchestra. BSSR caught up with Bruce recently to find out more about the project and the grant.
BSSR:
How is the work structured?
BURNSIDE:
The stage presentation has three actors.. who have a script memorized. They deliver their lines and sing songs. They play guitar, fiddle,banjo and penny whistle in different combinations while the sing. For this project, the chamber orchestra plays as well.
BSSR:
Do you see any parallels between the Civil War era and today?
BURNSIDE:
What I teach fifth graders in my school residencies is the similarity of peoples' behavior then and now. WWII veterans said exactly what Civil War vets said. Getting to the sources allows us to see the parallels in political behavior, the economic exploitation, the poor, young soldiers escaping their dead end opportunities, etc. "A rich man's fight and a poor man's war."
BSSR:
What message do you want to convey?
BURNSIDE:
What I want to convey is that people have the potential to use their energy to achieve great things. War takes away the energy and changes the person into a less positive individual.... Walking the battlefields gives me the perspective of the massive forces, but I look at it one face at a time. I guess I want to remind us that we've already tried this and it isn't a solution.
For more information on "Unsung Heroes" plus Bruce's music, performance schedule and insight, just Google his name.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
Tom Joad's Top Ten
I've become inundated with so many disturbing media prognostications about the US economy being on life support that I'm convinced this recession is being staged to sell more newspapers and boost ratings. There may be some validity to the suggestion that bad times are enhanced by great press coverage, each dire report relentlessly trumped by the next, until readers/viewers are convinced that the economic end times are here and act accordingly. The "Grapes of Wrath" syndrome has already turned millions of once contented Americans into angry Tom Joads, shut out of the economy for reasons that no one can really explain, the "new" Okies, c. 2009. How long will it take until we see modern day caravans of down on their luck families searching from state to state for the next low wage job?
Since I'm waking up at 4:00 AM most mornings wondering how many more months I can survive, it occurred to me that us latter day Joads might best amuse ourselves by devising our own "hit" lists of tunes that seem to describe the (don't use that word) Depression of 2009. First and foremost and nearly synonymous with Tom Joad is Pete Seeger's 1930s era ditty about: "If you ain't got the dough-ray-me, boys..." , basically a warning that California doesn't want you if you're broke, thus puncturing the "pie in the sky" dream of prosperity that gave hope to the Dust Bowl refugees.
But economic chaos in the new century bears little resemblance to the Thirties; we don't have dramatic collapses, we have more gradual - and predictable - progressions into bankruptcy. My pick for the 2009 theme song is "Going Down Slow" as sung by Howling Wolf, because that's really what it's all about - slowly sinking into the quicksand of poverty and fear. Speaking of the blues, given the music's origin, there are some excellent hymns to the power of money, my favorite being Ray Charles' "I'm Busted", but "A Nickel's Worth of Liver" by Edith North Johnson is a definite dark horse, since it combines poverty and domestic violence. As Albert Collins puts it :" ..If trouble was money / I'd be a millionaire.." on his spine-tingling live version of "If Trouble Was Money", but he also knows how to make fun of over-extending your credit limit in "Master Charge" - the chorus sounds like the first example of "brand placement" in the blues since all Albert says is: "Master Charge / Bank Americard.." Probably the funniest but relatively most obscure odes to the Almighty dollar is "Broke" by Mitch Woods and Rocket 88s", the sad tale of an almost penniless dude who tries to impress a date by buying her a drink - only to find out that she orders everything in the Bartender's Guide as in: "Pina Colada/Vodka with a twist/A shot of whiskey/And an Irish Mist " (These are MY lyrics by the way, but you get the idea!).
Doesn't take much to see how money ends up in most forms of popular music - like the O'Jays' "Money" (Money-Money-Mon-AH!) or Boz Scaggs' version of "Brother Can You Spare A Dime?, or the rap refrains of: " If it ain't about the Benjamins/Then Puffy just don't care" or Fitty Cent' words to live by - "Get rich or die tryin" . Then there's movie titles, from: "Three Coins in the Fountain" to "The Color of Money ", TV, of course, with "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?", where hapless contestants were routinely savaged by a smug Regis Philbin, to "Deal or No Deal", where hapless contestants are routinely trashed by a smirking Howie Mandell, and the socially acceptable dreams that are expressed in timeworn aphorisms every day."A penny saved is a penny earned " (Advice that certainly was not heeded until last September), "Find a penny/Pick it up/All day long/You'll have good luck", "You look like a million", "What's your two cents?", etc.,etc.,etc.
Remember - the next time you wake up feeling like Tom Joad in the agonizing pre-dawn hours, there are a few tunes that may calm you enough to go back to sleep. Try humming "Pennies From Heaven" and counting sheep.
Since I'm waking up at 4:00 AM most mornings wondering how many more months I can survive, it occurred to me that us latter day Joads might best amuse ourselves by devising our own "hit" lists of tunes that seem to describe the (don't use that word) Depression of 2009. First and foremost and nearly synonymous with Tom Joad is Pete Seeger's 1930s era ditty about: "If you ain't got the dough-ray-me, boys..." , basically a warning that California doesn't want you if you're broke, thus puncturing the "pie in the sky" dream of prosperity that gave hope to the Dust Bowl refugees.
But economic chaos in the new century bears little resemblance to the Thirties; we don't have dramatic collapses, we have more gradual - and predictable - progressions into bankruptcy. My pick for the 2009 theme song is "Going Down Slow" as sung by Howling Wolf, because that's really what it's all about - slowly sinking into the quicksand of poverty and fear. Speaking of the blues, given the music's origin, there are some excellent hymns to the power of money, my favorite being Ray Charles' "I'm Busted", but "A Nickel's Worth of Liver" by Edith North Johnson is a definite dark horse, since it combines poverty and domestic violence. As Albert Collins puts it :" ..If trouble was money / I'd be a millionaire.." on his spine-tingling live version of "If Trouble Was Money", but he also knows how to make fun of over-extending your credit limit in "Master Charge" - the chorus sounds like the first example of "brand placement" in the blues since all Albert says is: "Master Charge / Bank Americard.." Probably the funniest but relatively most obscure odes to the Almighty dollar is "Broke" by Mitch Woods and Rocket 88s", the sad tale of an almost penniless dude who tries to impress a date by buying her a drink - only to find out that she orders everything in the Bartender's Guide as in: "Pina Colada/Vodka with a twist/A shot of whiskey/And an Irish Mist " (These are MY lyrics by the way, but you get the idea!).
Doesn't take much to see how money ends up in most forms of popular music - like the O'Jays' "Money" (Money-Money-Mon-AH!) or Boz Scaggs' version of "Brother Can You Spare A Dime?, or the rap refrains of: " If it ain't about the Benjamins/Then Puffy just don't care" or Fitty Cent' words to live by - "Get rich or die tryin" . Then there's movie titles, from: "Three Coins in the Fountain" to "The Color of Money ", TV, of course, with "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?", where hapless contestants were routinely savaged by a smug Regis Philbin, to "Deal or No Deal", where hapless contestants are routinely trashed by a smirking Howie Mandell, and the socially acceptable dreams that are expressed in timeworn aphorisms every day."A penny saved is a penny earned " (Advice that certainly was not heeded until last September), "Find a penny/Pick it up/All day long/You'll have good luck", "You look like a million", "What's your two cents?", etc.,etc.,etc.
Remember - the next time you wake up feeling like Tom Joad in the agonizing pre-dawn hours, there are a few tunes that may calm you enough to go back to sleep. Try humming "Pennies From Heaven" and counting sheep.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Deconstructing Delta Blues
The more I write about music, the more I realize how little I know about the various genres. Fortunately, my blues education is finally developing; a friend sent me a copy of Ted Gioia's new book, "Delta Blues" (2008) published by W.W. Norton , New York and London. It seems fitting that, as I approach the second anniversary of BSRR, I am finally beginning to learn about the music.
The best thing about this extremely comprehensive work is in the details. The facts about these legendary Delta musicians dispel the outlandish mythology that has grown up with the spread of the music, in the same way that Sixties rock rumors mushroomed through word-of-mouth - Paul McCartney's barefoot on the Abby Road cover because he died , Mama Cass Eliott choked to death on a ham sandwich, Jimi Hendrix' drummer's heart exploded because of an overdose of speed, etc.,etc. The best known Delta blues tall tale is - of course- Robert Johnson's legendary deal with the devil, and Gioia chases down every tenuous thread of information about the cryptic musician, exposing the "Me and the Devil" story as an early form of image management, designed to enhance Johnson's career, and demonstrating that the same manufactured "hype" has been applied to other blues giants, including Howling Wolf. Johnson's untimely death is described in detail, but, as is the case with most stories about the cryptic musician, Gioia's research can't substantiate the circumstances with official accounts; instead, as is the case of most of the stories about Delta artists, he faithfully repeats the remembrances of other players . The truth about Robert Johnson is that he encouraged the linkage with the devil, elevating his reputation in the back country juke joints and the sleepy Delta hamlets, the pre-cursor to the demonic rock industry, personified by Ozzy Osborne; it was said that he paid for this association by a slow, agonizing death. Ironically, the spectre of religion seems to haunt a lot of the back country bluesmen with Gioia pointing out that many were ashamed to admit, when "re-discovered " in the Sixties ,that they had ever played the "evil" blues.
Delta Blues meticulously documents the alleged beginning of the "popularization" of the genre, when W.C. Handy sees a musician playing by a Mississippi train station and turns it into "The St. Louis Blues" in 1902. As interesting as the early tales of Charley Patton, Tommy Johnson, Son House, Lonnie Johnson and many others are, Gioia delves into de-mystifying some of the commonly-accepted Delta imagery as well through detailed descriptions of Parchman Farm , the Dockery plantation among others, the Delta itself, and a myriad of facts documenting such blues aficionado trivia as the origin of the expressions "dirt poor" and "where the Southern cross the Dog". The early pioneers who popularized the music are woven into the story as well , the most notable being H.C.Speir's record shop - slash - recording studio in Jackson, Mississippi where many of the masters were first immortalized, and the rise and fall of the various struggling blues labels - Paramount, OKeh, Victor and - of course - the legendary sessions in a San Antonio hotel when two British expatriates infatuated with the emerging American blues recorded Robert Johnson on the ARC label in 1936.
The transition from Clarksdale to Chicago is personified by the larger than life figures of Muddy Waters , first recorded in front of his Delta shack by Alan Lomax using a recording device powered by his car battery which propelled Muddy to worldwide fame and a lucrative career playing clubs and making records for Chess; Howlin' Wolf, older but much wilder, his towering stage presence enhanced by tricks like shaking up a Coke bottle, sticking it in his pants and popping the top during the climax of a song ; John Lee Hooker, whose feet barely touched the Delta mud at birth before his family fled, a musician who nobody could follow because he never played a song the same way twice but Hooker's music didn't really have a beat, but a throbbing pulse which nobody could duplicate; and last but certainly not least, B.B. King, whose talent bridged the gap into jazz, rock and classical, and whose longevity has made him the Mount Rushmore of the blues.
There are very few stones left unturned by the end of this four hundred - plus page tome, which includes a detailed discography. If you want to dispel the myths and delve into the grit about this truly American art form, then check out Delta Blues .
The best thing about this extremely comprehensive work is in the details. The facts about these legendary Delta musicians dispel the outlandish mythology that has grown up with the spread of the music, in the same way that Sixties rock rumors mushroomed through word-of-mouth - Paul McCartney's barefoot on the Abby Road cover because he died , Mama Cass Eliott choked to death on a ham sandwich, Jimi Hendrix' drummer's heart exploded because of an overdose of speed, etc.,etc. The best known Delta blues tall tale is - of course- Robert Johnson's legendary deal with the devil, and Gioia chases down every tenuous thread of information about the cryptic musician, exposing the "Me and the Devil" story as an early form of image management, designed to enhance Johnson's career, and demonstrating that the same manufactured "hype" has been applied to other blues giants, including Howling Wolf. Johnson's untimely death is described in detail, but, as is the case with most stories about the cryptic musician, Gioia's research can't substantiate the circumstances with official accounts; instead, as is the case of most of the stories about Delta artists, he faithfully repeats the remembrances of other players . The truth about Robert Johnson is that he encouraged the linkage with the devil, elevating his reputation in the back country juke joints and the sleepy Delta hamlets, the pre-cursor to the demonic rock industry, personified by Ozzy Osborne; it was said that he paid for this association by a slow, agonizing death. Ironically, the spectre of religion seems to haunt a lot of the back country bluesmen with Gioia pointing out that many were ashamed to admit, when "re-discovered " in the Sixties ,that they had ever played the "evil" blues.
Delta Blues meticulously documents the alleged beginning of the "popularization" of the genre, when W.C. Handy sees a musician playing by a Mississippi train station and turns it into "The St. Louis Blues" in 1902. As interesting as the early tales of Charley Patton, Tommy Johnson, Son House, Lonnie Johnson and many others are, Gioia delves into de-mystifying some of the commonly-accepted Delta imagery as well through detailed descriptions of Parchman Farm , the Dockery plantation among others, the Delta itself, and a myriad of facts documenting such blues aficionado trivia as the origin of the expressions "dirt poor" and "where the Southern cross the Dog". The early pioneers who popularized the music are woven into the story as well , the most notable being H.C.Speir's record shop - slash - recording studio in Jackson, Mississippi where many of the masters were first immortalized, and the rise and fall of the various struggling blues labels - Paramount, OKeh, Victor and - of course - the legendary sessions in a San Antonio hotel when two British expatriates infatuated with the emerging American blues recorded Robert Johnson on the ARC label in 1936.
The transition from Clarksdale to Chicago is personified by the larger than life figures of Muddy Waters , first recorded in front of his Delta shack by Alan Lomax using a recording device powered by his car battery which propelled Muddy to worldwide fame and a lucrative career playing clubs and making records for Chess; Howlin' Wolf, older but much wilder, his towering stage presence enhanced by tricks like shaking up a Coke bottle, sticking it in his pants and popping the top during the climax of a song ; John Lee Hooker, whose feet barely touched the Delta mud at birth before his family fled, a musician who nobody could follow because he never played a song the same way twice but Hooker's music didn't really have a beat, but a throbbing pulse which nobody could duplicate; and last but certainly not least, B.B. King, whose talent bridged the gap into jazz, rock and classical, and whose longevity has made him the Mount Rushmore of the blues.
There are very few stones left unturned by the end of this four hundred - plus page tome, which includes a detailed discography. If you want to dispel the myths and delve into the grit about this truly American art form, then check out Delta Blues .
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Cruising With Cadillac Records
The best movies about the recording industry stay faithful to the genre - they tend to let the music speak for itself which is the case with Cadillac Records, the recently released cinematic story of the rise and fall of Chicago's Chess label. It moves seamlessly through the mosaic of blues musicians that made Chess famous, touching along the way on racism, drug addiction, marital infidelity, all the subjects that define the genre.
The story is told by Willie Dixon, played reverently by Cedric the Entertainer, but the "soul" of the story is really Muddy Waters. From the moment Muddy is "discovered" in Clarksdale, Mississippi by an earnest Alan Lomax until he steps off the plane to an icon's welcome in England, he is a towering figure. Waters moves to Chicago and eventually attracts the attention of - at that time - club owner Leonard Chess. Chess decides to start a record label, complete with a unique revolving disc and tone arm mounted above the door, in a black neighborhood of Chicago, an improbable feat for a Polish immigrant who knew next to nothing about the blues.
The first few releases in the early 1950s - like "Honeybee"- feature Muddy's unique style of plucking away at the guitar , creating a resonant, commanding tone that takes his Delta roots to new levels. His early records are an instant hit, but Waters' musical journey twists in another direction with the addition to the band of a nearly destitute Little Walter, discovered playing harmonica on a street corner. Muddy takes him in, little realizing that his protege' will eventually fall in love with his wife Geneva, and the two go on to cut classics like "40 Days and 40 Nights", and "Got My Mojo Working". In 1952, Little Walter records "Juke" , a solo instrumental with a backing band, that goes on to be a hit but, as with so many bluesmen, as Walter's career begins to rise, his personal life sinks, into a morass of heroin and booze. Little Walter becomes the underside of the Chess story, his life coming apart throughout the course of the movie - driving around with all the doors taken off his Cadillac, which earns him a beating at the hand of racist police - ramming another Caddy into Chess's front office, demanding that the label buy him a new one - and finally beaten to death, dying in Geneva Waters' arms.
A parade of musicians pass through the doors at Chess - Howlin Wolf, with his raspy wail of a voice, depicted as strong-willed but mesmerizing - Chuck Berry, played "def"-ly by Mos Def - and of course Etta James, portrayed flawlessly by Beyonce'. Unfortunately, as the Fifties draw to a close, Muddy Waters' music is eclipsed by rock and roll and he begins to rely on Leonard Chess' generosity. Chess is finally sold much to the dismay of its artists. In one of the movie's most poignant scenes, Etta James is singing "I'd Rather Be Blind" as Leonard passes through the studio for the last time, gets into his Cadillac, drives to the end of the street and dies from a heart attack.
Thanks to English fans, Muddy's career abruptly takes off in the early Sixties, and "Cadillac Records" ends with Willie Dixon's wry commentary as he and Muddy arrive in London. Even if you are a marginal fan of the genre, the movie documents the impact of the blues in a straight forward, uncompromising way, which makes you believe that this is the way it really happened.
The story is told by Willie Dixon, played reverently by Cedric the Entertainer, but the "soul" of the story is really Muddy Waters. From the moment Muddy is "discovered" in Clarksdale, Mississippi by an earnest Alan Lomax until he steps off the plane to an icon's welcome in England, he is a towering figure. Waters moves to Chicago and eventually attracts the attention of - at that time - club owner Leonard Chess. Chess decides to start a record label, complete with a unique revolving disc and tone arm mounted above the door, in a black neighborhood of Chicago, an improbable feat for a Polish immigrant who knew next to nothing about the blues.
The first few releases in the early 1950s - like "Honeybee"- feature Muddy's unique style of plucking away at the guitar , creating a resonant, commanding tone that takes his Delta roots to new levels. His early records are an instant hit, but Waters' musical journey twists in another direction with the addition to the band of a nearly destitute Little Walter, discovered playing harmonica on a street corner. Muddy takes him in, little realizing that his protege' will eventually fall in love with his wife Geneva, and the two go on to cut classics like "40 Days and 40 Nights", and "Got My Mojo Working". In 1952, Little Walter records "Juke" , a solo instrumental with a backing band, that goes on to be a hit but, as with so many bluesmen, as Walter's career begins to rise, his personal life sinks, into a morass of heroin and booze. Little Walter becomes the underside of the Chess story, his life coming apart throughout the course of the movie - driving around with all the doors taken off his Cadillac, which earns him a beating at the hand of racist police - ramming another Caddy into Chess's front office, demanding that the label buy him a new one - and finally beaten to death, dying in Geneva Waters' arms.
A parade of musicians pass through the doors at Chess - Howlin Wolf, with his raspy wail of a voice, depicted as strong-willed but mesmerizing - Chuck Berry, played "def"-ly by Mos Def - and of course Etta James, portrayed flawlessly by Beyonce'. Unfortunately, as the Fifties draw to a close, Muddy Waters' music is eclipsed by rock and roll and he begins to rely on Leonard Chess' generosity. Chess is finally sold much to the dismay of its artists. In one of the movie's most poignant scenes, Etta James is singing "I'd Rather Be Blind" as Leonard passes through the studio for the last time, gets into his Cadillac, drives to the end of the street and dies from a heart attack.
Thanks to English fans, Muddy's career abruptly takes off in the early Sixties, and "Cadillac Records" ends with Willie Dixon's wry commentary as he and Muddy arrive in London. Even if you are a marginal fan of the genre, the movie documents the impact of the blues in a straight forward, uncompromising way, which makes you believe that this is the way it really happened.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Death by Decibels
There's a vintage comedy by Billy Wilder in which Horst Buchholtz is tortured by being forced to listen to "Itsy Bitsy Tiny Weeny Yellow Poke A Dot Bikini" over and over again until he cracks and confesses to whatever he was supposed to confess to. Over time this technique has been perfected until the ugly truth can now be told: one of the most potent weapons of torture at Guantanamo Bay is rock and roll. According to a recent Associated Press article, detainees are routinely subjected to a 24/7 ear-splitting musical diet of "decadent" American artists like Metallica, AC/DC, Eminem, Aerosmith, Drowning Pool and Nine Inch Nails.
This is understandable - after all, I'm pretty sure I'd wither under the constant pressure of "Sandman", "Dream On" or listening to Eminem repeat "Will the REAL Slim Shady please stand up ?" over and over again - but the Defense Department has added a bizarre twist by including the theme song from "Sesame Street" as well as the national anthem of 3 and 4 year olds, "I Love You" , by Barney the Dinosaur. Bob Singleton, the author of the dinosaur ditty, told the AP that he thinks whoever decided to diss Barney must have a few screws loose: " A song that was designed to make little children feel safe and secure was somehow going to threaten the mental states of adults and drive them to the emotional breaking point?" Don't be surprised if Al Queda releases a rash of Barney beheading videos - after all, they're just getting revenge.
If you want to find out what's it's like to be locked up in Cuba, just grab a pair of headphones and put on AC/DC, crank it up until your eardrums ache, and just sit there until your brains turn to jelly. It'll make waterboarding seem like a good idea.
This is understandable - after all, I'm pretty sure I'd wither under the constant pressure of "Sandman", "Dream On" or listening to Eminem repeat "Will the REAL Slim Shady please stand up ?" over and over again - but the Defense Department has added a bizarre twist by including the theme song from "Sesame Street" as well as the national anthem of 3 and 4 year olds, "I Love You" , by Barney the Dinosaur. Bob Singleton, the author of the dinosaur ditty, told the AP that he thinks whoever decided to diss Barney must have a few screws loose: " A song that was designed to make little children feel safe and secure was somehow going to threaten the mental states of adults and drive them to the emotional breaking point?" Don't be surprised if Al Queda releases a rash of Barney beheading videos - after all, they're just getting revenge.
If you want to find out what's it's like to be locked up in Cuba, just grab a pair of headphones and put on AC/DC, crank it up until your eardrums ache, and just sit there until your brains turn to jelly. It'll make waterboarding seem like a good idea.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
American Idolatry
I was struck by a peculiar thought as I watched American Idol winner Taylor Hicks descend in a silver lame platform from heaven as "Teen Angel" in the road show of Grease last Friday night. Hicks probably got as many votes as Barack Obama. Whether he did or not - probably not- it may cross somebody's mind someday that this would be a great way to elect a President - sing your best soulful, ear-caressing ballad or that kick ass rock and rock anthem, and you're on your way to that big soundstage recently installed in the Oval Office. No more Fireside Chats or Saturday morning radio addresses - switch it to Classic Rock, Rap and HipHop, Reggae, Reggaton, Techno, Alternative, etc., and occasional retro forays into Disco Night or Soul Power Hour.
Hicks has a big, soothing voice that was perfect in the best doo wop fashion as Teen Angel consoles poor Frenchy that she can still "...go back to high school.." even if she is a "Beauty School Dropout." It was a perfect Burger Palace serenade, in keeping with the show's overall flawless execution, making the Fifties musical journey from the token car song - "Greased Lightnin" -to the token teen aged angst ballad - " It's Raining on Prom Night" - to the bulletproof, onetime AM radio hits - "Hopelessly Devoted To You" and "Grease". The show opens with a Four Seasons intro, four of the actors emerging from separate doorways, although no one had that necessary Frankie Valli falsetto. Danny Zuko (Eric Schneider) came across in that big John Travolta style, while Sandy Dumbrowski (Emily Padgett) was eerily reminiscent of Olivia Newton John. The other key roles - Koneicki, Rizzo, Frenchy and the rest - featured individual vocalists who captured the elements of Fifties music and dance to a proverbial "t". By the time they were collectively rocking out to "You're The One That I Want/We Go Together", most of the audience was following suit.
The only odd thing was that Taylor Hicks gets so much billing in the pre-show hype that you think he dominates the whole show as opposed to a cameo in the second act. I guess Teen Angel would always be considered the equivalent of an American Idol anyway, the divine reincarnation of that carefree Fifties spirit - but would he get us out of the economic mess?
Hicks has a big, soothing voice that was perfect in the best doo wop fashion as Teen Angel consoles poor Frenchy that she can still "...go back to high school.." even if she is a "Beauty School Dropout." It was a perfect Burger Palace serenade, in keeping with the show's overall flawless execution, making the Fifties musical journey from the token car song - "Greased Lightnin" -to the token teen aged angst ballad - " It's Raining on Prom Night" - to the bulletproof, onetime AM radio hits - "Hopelessly Devoted To You" and "Grease". The show opens with a Four Seasons intro, four of the actors emerging from separate doorways, although no one had that necessary Frankie Valli falsetto. Danny Zuko (Eric Schneider) came across in that big John Travolta style, while Sandy Dumbrowski (Emily Padgett) was eerily reminiscent of Olivia Newton John. The other key roles - Koneicki, Rizzo, Frenchy and the rest - featured individual vocalists who captured the elements of Fifties music and dance to a proverbial "t". By the time they were collectively rocking out to "You're The One That I Want/We Go Together", most of the audience was following suit.
The only odd thing was that Taylor Hicks gets so much billing in the pre-show hype that you think he dominates the whole show as opposed to a cameo in the second act. I guess Teen Angel would always be considered the equivalent of an American Idol anyway, the divine reincarnation of that carefree Fifties spirit - but would he get us out of the economic mess?
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Craig
The one quote about death that always sticks in my mind - and I don't remember who said it - was something about most people either dying too late or too soon. In the case of my late friend Craig Roche, it was way too soon.
He was a true original, an elf, a self-made man who refused to take anything too seriously. He loved music. Craig's talent extended from acoustic to electric, from the traditions of jug band blues to the spectrum of rock and roll, playing in both musical worlds throughout his life. It was a privilege to help hold up the rthymn section in the Led Balloon Jug Band with Craig, observing first hand his amazing agility to coax and occasionally beat sound out of an inverted washtub, a pole and a string. He was equally adept on washboard, kazoo, vocals and - of course - guitar.
Our friendship had solidified at two class reunions in the recent past, since, for those of you reading this who wouldn't know, school was where Craig and I first got to know each other. I would always show up and immediately want to leave, but then he would calm me down with his infectious humor. As a matter of fact, Craig Roche's laugh is immortalized on one track of the original Led Balloon Jug Band Album, punctuating my teen aged coughing fit.
One of our functions besides struggling to maintain the "foundation " of the band's sound, was to provide humor, in terms of spoken asides , shout-outs (Craig's specialty) and general patter that fluctuated between a dismal Vegas lounge act and what passed for vaguely hip in the Sixties but now sounds like a rehearsal for the assisted living center talent show. I would always pull back in the middle of an idea, but Craig would push the envelope, carrying the thought to the most insane extreme, fearlessly jabbing our funny bones - I haven't seen too many people in my life that were capable of getting away with that lind of controlled insanity.
A few weeks back I wrote about Jim Kweskin and Geoff Muldaur in this space, and thoughtlessly implied that perhaps jug band music had somehow disappeared. At 12:57 PM on November 9,2008, there was a comment from Craig "The Bassman" Roche who wrote: "Good God, man, jug band music never left - so how can it come back? It still sounds so sweet, it certainly is a treat to me." Nine days later, Craig died at the age of 59.
Funny - I have a quiz to write, two exams to compose, plus go buy food and a radio show in a couple of hours, but I had to drop everything to get this done. He wouldn't want this to be too serious, so I'll just close by echoing the same sentiments - hanging out and playing music with Craig Roche certainly was a treat to me.
He was a true original, an elf, a self-made man who refused to take anything too seriously. He loved music. Craig's talent extended from acoustic to electric, from the traditions of jug band blues to the spectrum of rock and roll, playing in both musical worlds throughout his life. It was a privilege to help hold up the rthymn section in the Led Balloon Jug Band with Craig, observing first hand his amazing agility to coax and occasionally beat sound out of an inverted washtub, a pole and a string. He was equally adept on washboard, kazoo, vocals and - of course - guitar.
Our friendship had solidified at two class reunions in the recent past, since, for those of you reading this who wouldn't know, school was where Craig and I first got to know each other. I would always show up and immediately want to leave, but then he would calm me down with his infectious humor. As a matter of fact, Craig Roche's laugh is immortalized on one track of the original Led Balloon Jug Band Album, punctuating my teen aged coughing fit.
One of our functions besides struggling to maintain the "foundation " of the band's sound, was to provide humor, in terms of spoken asides , shout-outs (Craig's specialty) and general patter that fluctuated between a dismal Vegas lounge act and what passed for vaguely hip in the Sixties but now sounds like a rehearsal for the assisted living center talent show. I would always pull back in the middle of an idea, but Craig would push the envelope, carrying the thought to the most insane extreme, fearlessly jabbing our funny bones - I haven't seen too many people in my life that were capable of getting away with that lind of controlled insanity.
A few weeks back I wrote about Jim Kweskin and Geoff Muldaur in this space, and thoughtlessly implied that perhaps jug band music had somehow disappeared. At 12:57 PM on November 9,2008, there was a comment from Craig "The Bassman" Roche who wrote: "Good God, man, jug band music never left - so how can it come back? It still sounds so sweet, it certainly is a treat to me." Nine days later, Craig died at the age of 59.
Funny - I have a quiz to write, two exams to compose, plus go buy food and a radio show in a couple of hours, but I had to drop everything to get this done. He wouldn't want this to be too serious, so I'll just close by echoing the same sentiments - hanging out and playing music with Craig Roche certainly was a treat to me.
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