Turn Me On, Dead Man

                              

Do you own either of these Apple CDs, issued back in 1993 ? If so, then you know that they were released in very small quantities and are both highly-sought in the collector's market.  However, be warned: their value (selling recently on Amazon for as much as $149 each) is sure to drop in the coming months, as Apple Records has announced the remastering and reissuing of these and other renown titles from their famous catalogue.  

Gliding high on the tailwinds of their immensely popular Beatles remaster/reissue campaign last year, Apple Corp.  is set to drop some more fresh "Apples" this fall.  While the most popular (and best-selling) of these albums have stayed in print (more or less) since 1993 -- think Mary Hopkin, Badfinger and James Taylor -- albums such as the pair of MJQ releases and the Tavener sets have never been readily available until this reissue program.   The best news: ALL of the reissues will not only be rendered in sterling remasters, but they will, for the first time, also sport many bonus tracks. 

For complete details, go to the official link:  http://www.applerecords.com/

And if you don't want to miss out on some serious collector's bucks, think about listing your copy of "The Whale" right now.   In October, the current $97 selling price is sure to take a serious dive.  

This week, a somewhat legendary, almost mythical Beatles outtake emerged from...well, somewhere.  It's the much-discussed Take 20 of the White Album track "Revolution 1".  Why is it legendary?  Well, I'll let Mark Lewisohn explain, with a 1968 entry from his book The Beatles: Recording Sessions:



Now, I'll bet you want to hear it, don't you?  Of course you do.  Here it is:

                                             

You may recall that I posted an entry last year about Max Gordon Keller's accredited course on the Beatles that he created and taught at UC Berkeley.  The class has attracted attention far outside the confines of the campus.   In fact, if you are in the Bay Area on Friday, May 14th, there will be a news story about the class on KPIX-TV on both the 6pm and 11pm newscasts (and also to be posted online later at www.CBS5.com if you're from afar).

Nobody knows the Beatles with quite the depth of knowledge and fullness of heart as Max Gordon Keller.  Although but 22 years of age, his is a soul both older and younger than his years would suggest.  When I met him in person for the first time on May 4th, we immediately fell into warm conversation as if we'd been friends for years.  Later, when he took the helm before his students, he acquired the air of -- not so much "teacher", but "benevolent guide".   Nevertheless, he commanded -- and earned -- their rapt attention and complete respect as he led them through the final day of the class. 



And speaking of the final day of classes...well, that's why I was there.  At the invitation of Mr. Keller, I was to be the final lecture of the final class.   I guess I was the modest dessert to Max's sumptuous 14-course Beatle banquet.  

Alas, my presentation had an  inauspicious start.   Some equipment I hoped to have at hand was either not present or not in working order.  Then, my first audio sample wouldn't play when I needed it.   Ah, well...roll with the changes, sang Kevin Cronin.  With Max lending a hand on visuals, I gave a tidy "Paul-Is-Dead" lecture, replete with a very very rare showing of the 2005 Netherlands documentary Who Buried Paul McCartney?  My dear sister Vicki was in town for a visit, and was also an invaluable aide.   She took all the photos:



I'll tell you one thing: Max must be one helluva teacher, because NEVER have I had such an engaging and challenging volley of post-lecture questions!  Under his tutelage, Max's students -- freshly-minted, fully-credentialed Beatleologists all -- absorbed what I presented and followed up with smart queries that really kept me on my toes. 

Max Gordon Keller won't be back next year to teach the class.  He's graduating from UC Berkeley later this month and moving on to new phases of his life.  The future of the Beatles course itself is also up in the air -- although its incredible popularity has definitely left an indelible mark on the Berkeley curriculum.  

But that does not mean that The Long and Winding Road: The History of the Beatles (the official moniker of Keller's course) will become a fondly-remembered novelty or a future trivia question for the Beatle cognoscenti.  No.  In fact, Max hints that, like Paul McCartney, his Beatles class is far from dead. 

Make no mistake: it takes alot of finesse and a whole lot more patience to create what has become known as the MashUp.    It's not just a matter of playing two disparate songs simultaneously and atop one another.  Instead, the MashUp creator is more than likely a musician himself, and uses his ear to guide the way he manipulates the two (or three or more) songs that he combines to create the magic and, indeed, the art of the MashUp.

Beatles MashUps are nothing new; the British MashUp master CCC has been the genius behind over a dozen brilliant examples of the nascent artform.   Here's one of his best -- 
an amalgamation of Beatles and Byrds:   
                                  
                             


Naturally, there are major licensing problems intrinsic within the concept.  In other words, you will not soon (and will probably NEVER) see a CD's worth of MashUps by your favorite artists.   I'm even a bit surprised to find them available on YouTube (shhhh....let's not tell, okay?), as their dodgy legal status could likely lead to claims of copyright infringement by the Mash-ees.   Such a shame, as the inventiveness of most MashUps elevate the result beyond mere "rhyming & stealing".  While it may be near impossible to find MashUps at your local record emporium, it's not difficult to find them throughout cyberspace.   And they've been a popular constant on the clubbing circuit in the U.K. and elsewhere.    Here's one you could certainly dance to --- The Beatles swirled up in a frothy ambrosia of Black-Eyed Peas.   Call it Black-Eyed Beatles:

                                



Andru Reeve

Here's a great Beatles-related tale that I hadn't heard before.   Thanks to Vernell Hackett at TheBoot.com.



John McEuen Meets a Beatle

Every musician comes through Nashville to record at least once, and Paul McCartney is no exception. The ace singer/songwriter and member of a fairly well-known British group called the Beatles drifted into town in the early '70s. John McEuen of the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band remembers  it well.   
"The fact that Paul McCartney was recording in Nashville was known to those in the music biz, but kept fairly quiet to the general public," John tells The Boot. "It was easy to find out, because when the question of 'where's Paul recording' was asked, all the pickers knew -- and had hopes of maybe being called for one the sessions. I didn't have much hope of that, as the words of my brother Bill kept ringing in my ears and were a good assessment of my chances. Bill is purported to have said, 'If the banjo was any good, the Beatles would have used it' right around this time period."

In spite of that, John asked around, found out where Paul was recording, and set out for the studio around 8:30 in the morning. "The anticipation of meeting a Beatle made my heart beat as fast as 'Foggy Mountain Breakdown'," John recalls. "Sitting in the parking lot waiting for his limo to show up calmed me down. He was at a studio I had recorded in before, so it felt more comfortable. At 8:45, he drove up and parked. I had heard he drove himself, but thought that might not be true. It was, and he was alone, going to work.
"In these pre-John Lennon's death days, it was easy to approach him. Walking up to him, I introduced myself and said I was from the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. 'Oh yes!' Paul replied. 'Spencer Davis gave me your album, 'Uncle Charlie and His Dog Teddy,' a few years ago -- a lovely album ... with the 'Mr. Bojangles' song on it, and the bluegrass music was lovely'." John remembers that the two of them chatted for about seven or eight minutes, with several opportunities for Paul to exit given but not taken. "It felt like two old friends running in to each other briefly," says John. "This feeling he was able to give another, him one of the biggest stars in the world, was a feeling that you were possibly a long missed neighbor or such, is something I carried with me since then. He listened, and responded to what he was hearing. He was a nice guy."
About 30 years later, John and his wife Marilyn were leaving a Hollywood showing of 'Ray,' the Oscar-winning film about the life of Ray Charles. As they left the theater, John turned around to speak to Marilyn and instead, found himself face to face with Paul. "The first words out of my mouth were 'Oh, hello again, Paul.'
"His polite reply of 'Hello, lovely movie, did you like it?' made me feel like the 30 years between seeing him had been 30 days. We started talking, I told him about our previous encounter, amused him with recounting about how often I had thought of it as an example of how one should handle celebrity. He introduced us to his wife, talked about the film, music, and a few chatting things from Nashville to Los Angeles, and cordially bid adieu.
"I forgot to ask him if the Beatles had ever used a banjo."
http://www.theboot.com/2010/03/23/john-mceuen-interview/

This has been common knowledge for a few years now, but Ringo Starr actually had very little to do with the composition of his two biggest post-Beatles hits.  Both "Photograph" and "It Don't Come Easy" were Top 20 hits for Ringo, but most people don't realize that it was fellow Beatle George Harrison who likely penned the pair of tunes with very little input from Mr. Starkey.

Here's an unreleased demo recording of "It Don't Come Easy", with George on vocals!  As you can plainly hear, the song is wholly realized and a virtual carbon copy of Ringo's hit version.   Ringo has some very special and very talented friends, doesn't he?

                                
At the end of this month, yet another Bay Area record store will be going away.  This time, the victim is Backdoor Discs in Cotati.   It was a beloved place for not only the latest CD and DVD releases, but also for used discs of every format, including a nice selection of vinyl.   That leaves only 3 record stores remaining in the entire North Bay region.  And who knows how long they have left?  

Major record store chains that seemed to be as solid as the ground we walk on have gone out of business with shocking frequency.   Among the corpses in the record store graveyard are The Wherehouse,  Tower Records and Virgin Music.   And the mom-and-pop independent shops haven't fared much better.  Just within the San Francisco Bay area, no fewer than a dozen shops gave up the ghost in the last 5 years as they watched their profits dwindle.  Most of this drastic fall in business is, of course, a result of the record-buying public switching their allegencies to the internet.   Alas, downloading appears to be the new paradigm for acquiring music.     

I once toiled away as a record store employee during the early '80s, just before CDs gained an inexorable foothold (we used to joke that only "hi-fi nerds" would deign to pay $18.98 for a CD.  Hell, we sold RECORDS for $5.99 !).  I worked at a D.C. regional chain called Kemp Mill Records.  Along with fellow local chain Penguin Feather, we were the "cool" record store, replete with underground newspapers, incense and hash pipes.  Even though I only made $5 / hour, it was truly the best job I ever had.   Here's an actual television commercial for Kemp Mill Records, featuring our excreble slogan, "IT'S AMAZING!!! IT'S INCREDIBLE!!!":




                                           

Fortunately, even with hundreds of large chains and mom-and-pop music stores shuttering their doors every year, I live in the SF-Bay area and we still have a few really great stores.   Amoeba Records is a 3-store chain with one medium-sized shop in Berkeley, one giant store in SF (pictured above, occupying the old Haight Street Bowling Alley) and -- a little further south -- one HUGE store in Hollywood (it covers a whole city block, with 2 floors crammed with CDs, vinyl, DVDs, books, magazines, etc.).   We also boast the 8-store Rasputin chain throughout Northern California, considered by me to be about the hippest place to shop for used CDs.   However, I fear that all their days are numbered -- albeit a slow, slooooow death it will be.  

Personally, I don't get it.  I hate downloads.  They're all way too compressed.  I also enjoy the act of browsing through stacks of vinyl and bins of discs, always being surprised at what I stumble across.  I will continue to patronize these wonderful places until their last breath, and I hope many others will, too. 

                 

Maybe You've Been Brainwashed Too   by  New Radicals

                                                       

There are certain songs that you forever associate with one special summer / lover / event , each and every time you hear it.  For me, New Radicals' "You Get What You Give" evokes such a time, such a person and such a moment.  It was the summer of '98 and I was visiting a longtime friend in San Diego.  As we drove to the Temecula Valley wine country, this song came on the radio, and it was love at first sight.   

Official video for "You Get What You Give":



Even though there were collaborators on the New Radicals' lone album (most notably Danielle Brisebois, former child actress best known for playing Stephanie during the waning days of  All In The Family), the "band" was really just one guy. 

Gregg Alexander was a teen wunderkind from Michigan who'd already recorded a solo album for a major label at an age when most of us were contemplating who to go to the prom with.   Nothing much happened with that album, so Alexander hunkered down in his apartment and recorded a stack of demos, playing all or most of the instruments himself.   He had befriended a producer Rick Knowles, who midwifed a deal with MCA Records, pitching Alexander as a group.   MCA put out Maybe You've Been Brainwashed Too and heavily promoted "You Get What You Give" and "Someday We'll Know" as singles.  Both were doing well, and MCA insisted that "the band" hit the road on a national tour.  

Gregg Alexander was overwhelmed, certainly by the immense success of "You Get What You Give", but mostly by the thought of perfoming his songs live.   On the eve of the tour, he did an about face.   He cancelled the tour, fired his touring band and went into seclusion.  For all intents and purposes, from that moment, New Radicals was no more.  Total lifespan: less than a year.  

However, while Alexander hasn't issued any new albums of his own, he's hardly been silent.  Remember that HUGE smash song by Santana and Michelle Branch a few years back?  "The Game Of Love" was written and produced by "Alex Ander" (a very transparent pseudonym).  And across the pond, Ronan Keating had his biggest British hit song ever with another Gregg Alexander-penned-and-produced tune, "Life Is A Rollercoaster".

Here's Gregg Alexander's demo of "The Game Of Love":
 


Maybe You've Been Brainwashed Too  is a stunning album, bursting with melodic invention, singalong choruses and spirited lyrics.   Some of the songs come across like anthems to the youthful joy inside all of us, no matter our physical age.   "Jehovah Made This Whole Joint For You" is a modern hymn celebrating the beauty of the world around us and the fact that it's all there for us to enjoy (and respect).  Conversely, "I Hope I Didn't Just Give Away The Ending" is the tale of two druggies looking for their next big thrill and finding something very different instead.     

More people should hear this album.   It's too good to be forgotten.


[First Released: 1998     KEY TRACKS: "You Get What You Give", "Jehovah Made This Whole Joint For You", "Someday We'll Know", "I Hope I Didn't Just Give Away The Ending"] 

Along with the Monkees, the Turtles are often overlooked as the incredible pop music makers that they were.  They truly were the American Beatles and they should've been much bigger than they were.  Perhaps Flo & Eddie weren't cute enough? 


                                

                                         http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1tr6CUyWxl8

In 2002, I picked up a CD entitled Songs In The Key of Z.  This was a compilation of so-called "outsider artists", collected and annotated by writer and deejay Irwin Chusid, who also authored a book by the same title.  

                                                  


Among semi-renown performers such as The Shaggs, Captain Beefheart and Joe Meek, I had my initiatory encounter with singular artists such as Daniel Johnston, Wesley Willis and Shooby Taylor.   However, the track that captivated me more than any other was entitled "They Told Me I Was A Fool", and it was credited to a mysterious mono-monikered man called Jandek.   Here are the lyrics:

They Told Me I Was a Fool
You got real fancy instincts
But your mouth is so large
I think I see a hundred people in it
I guess you like it that way
Because you’re a flop
And there ain’t no more wringer washers
To roll your fingers through
I see your insides aren’t the same since 1951
You’re dying inside a window
I saw your face all cut with glass
And underneath the window
The hands you dug your grave with
You could have built an empire
He would have helped you now you know
You’re going to fetch the wind
On a unicorn
Feet all dangling down
Wish them well at the marketplace
I fear a fiery face
Is staring from the future
It’s not the way
They told me I was a fool...


 
                                                     
                             Ready For The House (1978)  The 1st Jandek album.


And how to describe the music, the recording itself?  Hmmm...well, I guess the one-word description would be haunting.   Jandek sings like a man depressed, while idly picking at a detuned/open-tuned acoustic guitar.  Many of the recordings are soaked in reverb for added distance and spookiness.  Occassionally, collaborators can be heard on the tracks -- a wayward drummer here, a somewhat accomplished electric guitarist there.  The most interesting contributer is someone identified only as "Nancy" (if that is indeed her name).  She's a very decent singer, and her voice supplies an odd consonant juxposition to Jandek's near-miss guitar melodies.

The lyrics are obtuse, subrosa and cryptic.   The subject seems to revolve primarily around love -- unrequited, requited, lost, or misplaced.  But there are also songs about buildings, rivers, roads and God.   Whatever the topic,  Jandek's vocal reaction is similar:  wistful, vindictive, sullen, hurt, bored -- all in one collective mumbling moan.   But you really need to hear Jandek to appreciate him:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=veR2neO8K_w


At first, Jandek's sound might strike the uninitiated listener as impossible to enjoy.   But keep listening -- soon, you'll discover an interior logic to it all.  His guitar isn't out-of-tune; it's an open-tuning not dissimilar to that of some ancient blues musicians.  His voice is tremendously effective in conveying his pain and depression.   After a few songs, he suddenly appears to be Robert Johnson, filtered through Syd Barrett.  No less a celebrity fan than Kurt Cobain hailed Jandek as a genius, and if you compare some of the songs on Jandek's Blue Corpse  to  Nirvana's Bleach -- Cobain-penned tracks such as "Paper Cuts", "Scoff" and the session outtake "If You Must" -- you will marvel at the remarkable similarities.    

Here's the track "Nancy Sings", featuring the same open-tuned guitar, but with Vashti Bunyan-style vocals from the eponymous singer:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=raZjeU6_cF4

The jackets to the LP covers (and now the CD jewel cases) are just as inscrutable as the music within.  No liner notes, no recording data, no credits -- only a grainy photograph of a ginger-haired gentleman in various phases of his life, or unidentified houses, or interiors of rooms with furniture or musical instruments prominently displayed.  On the reverse, only the album title and a list of songs.   There may be one or two or more of these musical missives issued in any given calendar year.   (There have been 61 Jandek albums thus far). 


Some of the many faces of Jandek...



...And some of the many places of Jandek...



...And some of the stuff Jandek uses to make his sounds...




Beyond the records themselves, Jandek makes no effort to have contact with press, fans or anyone else in the outside world.   Until a few years ago, he never performed in public.   In 2004, he suddenly and unexpectedly appeared unannounded at a music festival and has since performed in concert a dozen or more times.  Why has he lifted the veil on himself?  We'll never know; he still refuses all requests for interviews. 
 
[A footnote: he WAS tracked down by a reporter in 1999, but he never really gave her anything of substance for her eventual article on the reclusive artist.   He also exchanged letters and phone calls with Irwin Chusid during the 1980's, but Chusid likewise came away as perplexed as he was going in.  A 2nd footnote: if you really wanted to, you could find out Jandek's real name, his phone number and his home address.   But why do that?   He wishes to be left alone, so be a mensch and leave him alone.   Listen to his music.]

All this mystery makes Jandek's music and his lyrics all the more compelling.  Is this an ingenious marketing gambit, or is Jandek simply accomplishing "fame" on his own terms?  Wish I had an answer for you.   However, if you're intrigued and want to learn more, there is a repository of Jandek history.   It's a website, hosted by a fan named Seth Tisue.  Go over there and poke around: 

http://tisue.net/jandek/

There's also a full discography there, with images of all 61 albums (and counting).   There's also information on how to order Jandek CDs (at bargain-basement prices, by the way).  Which brings me to your obvious question: where to start?   Well, I recommend you begin with Jandek's more accessible albums ("accessible" being a relative term in this case).    Ready For The House, Blue Corpse and Staring At The Cellophane  are a trio of releases that give you a flavor of Jandek's most common writing and performing style.   There are also other releases that are a little more challenging, such as the triptich of spoken-word albums he issued in the early '00's.  (One of these, Worthless Recluse is worth checking out if you have ever enjoyed Jack Kerouac's poetry readings captured on vinyl in the 1950's.   The 17 minute title track in particular may offer the most honest portrait of Jandek's state of mind and his artistic purpose). 

Many fans have tried to figure out the etiology of the moniker 'Jandek'.  Why 'Jandek"?  Whence 'Jandek'?   Well, if you'll indulge me, I have a theory as to what the name 'Jandek' means.  Since he seems to be chronicling his life -- his loves, his travels, his relationship with God -- in annual and semi-annual installments, perhaps he chose the name to indicate the calendar: JANuary to DECember = JANDEK (the 'K' is, of course, artistic license).  

Perhaps a more pertinent question is this: why does Jandek do what he does?  What is his raison d'etre?   Nobody really knows.  But he keeps recording albums -- 61 thus far, since 1978.  Essentially, his oeuvre is an aural diary, and he is a sonic Proust.   And, like Proust, Jandek is an acquired taste, to be sure, but he can pull you into his haunting world -- if you let him.