unsung siren: terry reid
There’s no good reason why Terry Reid’s name isn’t up there in the British rock hall of fame alongside Plant, Daltrey, Jagger, and Winwood. A soulful guitarist with an arrestingly powerful voice, he was in the right place at the right time, and made some truly incredible albums. Yet somehow serious fame has proven elusive for the outrageously talented Reid.
I read an article about him recently in the local paper of Palm Desert, where he now resides. Then a few days later had a brief Twitter exchange with Maureen Van Zandt after she shared her discovery of a YouTube treasure trove of tracks from his obscure 1979 album Rogue Waves. I realized that I’d never written anything about Terry Reid on here, and that needs to be remedied.
Young Terry Reid was very much a part of the Sixties London rock milieu. In 1966, at the tender age of 16, Reid was playing lead guitar with Peter Jay and the Jaywalkers when they were tapped to open for The Rolling Stones’ U.K. tour. The group disbanded following the tour but Reid had caught the attention of Mickie Most, famed producer of hits like The Animals’ “House of the Rising Sun” and Donovan’s “Mellow Yellow.” Collaborating with Most, Reid released his first solo album in 1968.
Bang, Bang You’re Terry Reid was critically well-received but didn’t make much of a commercial splash. His eponymous follow-up album, released in the U.S. under the title Move Over for Terry Reid, is a masterpiece. “Superlungs My Supergirl” is a slice of 60’s psychedelic-pop-rock perfection and the gut-wrenching “Stay With Me Baby” never fails to give me chills. On a trip to London several years ago I was browsing through a little record shop in Camden when I came across an original UK copy of this stellar album. Naturally, I was over the moon. When I went to purchase the LP I struck up a conversation with the shop owner, who was quite intrigued by a 22-year-old American girl getting so excited over Mr. Reid. The shop owner told me that he’d actually had two copies of this hard-to-find album, but just last week he sold the other copy to none other than Robert Plant, whose office was just down the street. So you don’t have to only take my word for this guy. . .
As a solo act Reid opened for both Cream’s 1968 U.S. tour and The Rolling Stones ’69 U.S. tour, as well as for Jethro Tull and Fleetwood Mac. In 1970 he performed at Britain’s answer to Woodstock, The Isle of Wight Festival. In 1968 Reid was asked by Jimmy Page to front his latest incarnation of that epic rock-god-incubator The Yardbirds, which would of course end up becoming Led Zeppelin. Reid declined but suggested that Page check out another young vocalist active on the Birmingham scene, Robert Plant, who was fronting the Band of Joy at the time. And the rest is history.
Despite this impeccable rock pedigree, Reid remains widely unknown. On that same trip to London, I was lucky enough to catch a rare Terry Reid live gig at the famed Dingwalls club. I was with a dear friend of mine, who is also a big fan of Reid’s, but even we managed to deftly illustrate our ignorance. At the time of our visit London had just passed its indoor smoking ban. Between sets we were hanging in a hallway near the backstage area talking with the opening band when an older man in a bright orange blazer stepped in smoking a cigarette. My friend took it upon herself to remind him of the recent ban: “You know you can’t do that in here anymore.” Well, of course the man lighting up turned out to be Terry Reid and he looked at us like we were probably the cheekiest American idiots he’d ever laid eyes on. And we might have been. Needless to say my friend was mortified and we didn’t get the chance to talk to him much after that. But he delivered a tremendous performance to the 500-seat club, his voice still just as raw and powerful as ever – the Unsung Siren of Swinging London.
Here are a few of my favorite Terry Reid tracks, for your listening pleasure: (Don’t miss the first one, it’s an unbelievably high quality video of a 1969 performance)
one rock star biography you can skip
I don’t write many negative reviews. Generally, I devour any rock memoir or biography through my rose-colored glasses of “Man, what a great story.” Even if the writing itself is flimsy or self-indulgent. I often find myself at odds with a lot of critical reviews of such books, but not this time.
I was very much looking forward to reading Marc Spitz’s new biography of Sir Mick, Jagger: Rebel, Rock Star, Rambler, Rogue, but I’m afraid it’s a flop. The book opens with a foreword by Spitz that I found utterly baffling. In it he discusses at length his understanding of the negative public perception of Jagger. Many of the “public” complaints he registers were news to me, and his defenses against them were only off-putting to someone who actually doesn’t have a negative opinion of Mick Jagger. While reading it I couldn’t help but think, why would you begin a biography by villainizing your subject?
Further, the book doesn’t present a very nuanced understanding of the Stones’ dynamic, and at times it reads like little more than celebrity gossip. The chapter on Anita Pallenberg and Performance strives for such lurid indulgence that it becomes difficult to take seriously. As Pallenberg, a singular force of a woman who is hard to over-describe, is represented as a caricature of dark desire. And an entire paragraph is devoted to debating the merits of Keith Richards’ now infamous literary swipe at the size of Mick’s manhood. This chapter felt like it was pulled straight from the tabloids and, for me, it was hard for the book to recover from.
Spitz injects welcome touches of humor throughout, but the book doesn’t feel that serious. A majority of the quotes are second-hand and the decisions on what events from Jagger’s life to focus on seem sort of haphazard. While the book never really hits its stride I did find certain chapters to be somewhat more engaging. For example, Spitz, who has written at length about the punk movement, offers an interesting discussion of the late 70’s musical fissure between the punks and the aging Stones.
The book doesn’t illuminate much that isn’t already known about Jagger. It read to me like Spitz, for whatever reason, felt personally affronted by some of the jabs that Keith Richards took out against Mick in his recent bestselling memoir Life and decided to write his own defense of sorts. This method becomes a distraction when you’re really just looking to learn more about the man. There are plenty of rock & roll biographies out there worthy of your time and attention. But this one, you can skip.
“Take It or Leave It“ – From the Stones’ Flowers album
bridge school benefit film – tonight!
My apologies for the long absence y’all – I just got back from a week in Washington, DC. I was there for work but I did have a chance to catch The Milk Carton Kids at their show on Friday in Vienna, Virginia. As usual they delivered a beautiful evening of music.
And speaking of beautiful, for the past 25 years Neil Young and his wife Pegi have been responsible for putting together one of the most consistently marvelous musical events of the year: The Bridge School Benefit Concert. Since 1986 this special annual gathering has hosted some of the brightest stars in music, many performing rare stripped-down acoustic sets. The concert raises funds for the Bridge School, an organization that works with severely disabled children.
Those of us who have wished for years to make the trek to the Shoreline Amphitheater to join in this uniquely wonderful occasion are now in luck. To mark the 25th Anniversary the best of the Bridge School Benefit concerts is coming to DVD. And for one night only, the film will be playing in theaters across the country. I will be at Edina Cinema here in Minneapolis tonight, and can’t wait to see these historic performances on the big screen, with theater-quality sound. Here is a complete list of participating venues – hopefully there’s one near you!
Atlanta Midtown
Austin Alamo Drafthouse Lakecreek
Boston Kendall
Chicago Century
Dallas TBC
Denver Mayan
Los Angeles The Laemmle Santa Monica
Madison Sundance
Milwaukee Oriental
Minneapolis Edina
New York City Sunshine
Philadelphia Ritz Bourse
Pleasantville, NY Jacob Burns
Portland, ME Nickelodeon
Portland, OR Hollywood Theatre
San Diego Hillcrest
San Francisco Embarcadero
Santa Cruz Nickelodeon
Santa Rosa Summerfield
Seattle Harvard Exit
Silver Spring, MD AFI Silver Theatre
Washington, DC E Street
The Milk Carton Kids
Tucked into the cozy Aster Café on an unseasonably chilly Minneapolis fall evening all chatter has ceased. Even the industrious wait staff seem to be distracted. The owner of the place leans over to me and says that he and his team hardly even hear the musical acts anymore but they’re all tuned in right now, there’s “something different” about these guys. “I think you’re on to something here.”
“Something different” could easily be the tagline for The Milk Carton Kids. In a world where modern recording technology and assorted audio wizardry dominate the musical landscape there really is something different about two guys alone with their vintage guitars delivering powerful sets night after night that ring completely true to their outstanding recorded work.
Joey Ryan and Kenneth Pattengale, a pair of Los Angeles based singer-songwriters with nearly a dozen solo albums between them, have forged a new musical identity in their partnership as The Milk Carton Kids. They’ve been on a pretty meteoric rise since their serendipitous meeting just over a year ago. As Ryan tells it he walked into The Hotel Café in Los Angeles, where Pattengale was singing a song written from the perspective of a dog “and it just really struck me. There’s a lot of people that play around Los Angeles and he stood out. The song and his performance and everything about it, there was something different.”
Ryan introduced himself after the show and the guys ended up getting together to play some music. It turned out that they were mutual fans of each other’s writing, which was a good start, but when they began playing together Ryan says “there was this odd sense of completeness to the sound that came out of the two guitars and two voices that was really striking.” Even their instruments seemed predestined for partnership. Ryan’s 1951 Gibson J-45 and Pattengale’s 1954 Martin O-15 sound like they’ve spent half a century lying in wait to be joined together.
After a few weeks of informal jamming through each other’s catalogs they decided to play a show together. Before long they were shelving their solo careers completely to devote themselves to this new entity. It was a leap of faith that is paying off in a major way.
“george harrison: living in the material world” airs tonight!
Those of you blessed with premium cable will be able to watch the U.S. debut of Martin Scorsese’s documentary George Harrison: Living in the Material World tonight on HBO. It will air in two parts, tonight and tomorrow at 9pm. Those of you/(us) without premium cable need to make friends fast. This looks like it’s going to be a pretty incredible portrait of a pretty incredible man. . .
album obsession: sea bell
Click here to download the Sea Bell album
I should probably just state my bias right now – this is my sister’s band. I should probably also state my other bias – I only write about albums that I really like, and I really like this album.
Sea Bell, the ten-member Indie-rock-funk-jam brigade from Eugene, Oregon has finally released their first (and last) album. After growing over the past few years into Eugene’s Buzz Band, the group has actually just broken up. But luckily they went the way of Blind Faith, leaving behind one stellar, eponymous, album before dissolution.
Those who were lucky enough to catch their live shows know what a killer group this really was. From a crowded stage they would launch headlong into blistering sets of their unique brand of Indie rock with an undeniably contagious energy. Their live prowess earned them the top spot in last year’s Bandest of the Bands competition in Eugene and put them in their rightful place as the local scene’s it-band.
But of course, nothing lasts forever (unless you’re The Rolling Stones) and the band played its final show a few weeks ago at the Eugene Celebration Festival. A fitting location for Sea Bell’s Last Stand – a celebration of the city that supported them so wholeheartedly.
So now we are left with this album: nine original songs that will be Sea Bell’s legacy. Their music is a modern Indie rock sound rooted in a variety of musical styles and backed by an assemblage of real talent. Listen for tight instrumentation, stirring harmonies, powerful lead vocals by Devin Brown and Leslie Robert, and driving percussion by my sister, Madi Becker.
It’s hard for me to pick any favorites, but definitely check out “Grima” the album’s single. You’ll be singing along with its infectious chorus in no time. It also features my sister’s banjo picking, and I don’t know about you but I’m a sucker for a good banjo. The sweeping “Rainy Boys” gives a glimpse of Sea Bell’s affinity for combining modern sounds with Americana flavors. And “Whisper Song” is a beautiful showcase for the sweet harmonies of Leslie Robert and Emily Jacob.
I can’t endorse this album enough. It’s more than worth the $10 it costs to download and while Sea Bell may no longer be with us, you can look forward to new collaborations from the band members, which I will certainly keep you apprised of here. Also, if you’d like a CD copy of the album please contact me directly and I can arrange shipment. I’ll leave you now with this video from Sea Bell’s last show, a cover of Fleet Foxes’ “Icicle Tusk” and their signature live original number “Buffalo.” Cheers to a wonderful group of music makers.
hibbing pilgrimage
When my boyfriend accepted a job in Minnesota my first thought, after Holy Midwest winter!, was that I’d be moving to Bob Dylan’s home state. I truly don’t think of myself as the kind of silly fan that would buy a map of celebrity houses in the Hollywood Hills and spend a whole day driving around trying to sneak a peak, but apparently, I sort of am. I’ve lived in Minneapolis not two weeks – we still don’t have furniture and I still don’t have a job, but a drive up to Hibbing was at the top of my to-do list. (My priorities, in a nutshell.) So yesterday I packed my car with snacks, turned up my favorite albums, and hit the road for a pilgrimage to Mr. Dylan’s hometown…
After three and a half hours of driving through rural Minnesota on mostly deserted roads I reached the Hibbing city limits. I was fully expecting to see a Welcome to Hibbing: Home of Bob Dylan! sign, as most town signage boasts of less (Linn County: Grass Seed Capital of the World anyone?) Instead, the entrance to their fair city was flanked by a Greyhound Bus Museum housed in some kind of pole barn, and a massive billboard advertising a local establishment called The Pizza Ranch. Apparently there are other reasons people visit Hibbing.
Many thanks to whoever parked their classic car along my walking tour, really added some atmosphere
I parked just off the main drag of old downtown and was pleased to see that it doesn’t appear to have structurally changed all that much in the fifty-plus years since a young Robert Zimmerman resided there. I followed a walking tour map I found on the website of the Hibbing Public Library. While the stops on the tour were mostly for buildings that once housed landmarks of Dylan’s youth and have since changed hands (the clothing store once run by his grandmother that is now the “China Buffet” restaurant was a particular favorite) it was really nice just to stroll through the neighborhood. And I have to admit, I had a serious moment outside of his childhood home. However, I was a bit thrown to see the full garage door painted as the album cover from Blood on the Tracks. What an utterly bizarre testament to the meteoric trajectory of Dylan’s life – the house your parents owned, and that you grew up in, is now owned by strangers who painted your face on the garage door… so very odd.
The garage door art
The house Bob Dylan grew up in
Down the street, which is both 7th Avenue and now also “Bob Dylan Drive,” is Hibbing High School. I passed by it just as school was letting out for the day. I had to fight the urge to stop the throngs of teenagers on the sidewalk and ask them if they ever gave a thought to attending the same grand old high school as Bob Dylan. I resisted though, figuring their answers would probably be disappointing to a fan driving seven hours round trip just to walk around town.
Hibbing High School
This does sort of look like a novelty sign...
After the high school I stopped into the Hibbing Public Library, whose website boasts of a “Bob Dylan Exhibit” that I’d been looking forward to seeing. It wasn’t exactly what I expected. I followed signs to a corner of the library’s basement where the exhibit is housed in a semi-converted conference room. It consisted mostly of photographs, posters, framed albums, and an impressive array of local artists’ renditions of Bob – all of which bore a charmingly comical lack of resemblance to the man. The exhibit is an earnest effort, but nothing to write home about.
Bob Dylan Exhibit at Hibbing Public Library
Bob Dylan Exhibit at Hibbing Public Library
You'll find the Bob Dylan Exhibit just beyond the basement coat rack...
Having completed the walking tour I ended my afternoon at Zimmy’s, a local restaurant themed in Dylan’s honor and actually boasting a better display of memorabilia than the public library. The place is predictably kitschy, with a menu featuring items like the Reuben “Hurricane Carter” Sandwich, but I found the kitsch level pretty appropriate for the setting. I guess that’s because it’s a one-off place and not a chain, so it narrowly manages to escape the flaccid gimmickry of a Hard Rock Café. That being said, I was thoroughly disappointed in the music being played. I understand that a restaurant playing all Dylan, all the time might be a little much, but at least throw on the oldies station, or some classic rock – I ‘m pretty sure I heard Nickelback while I was in there, and that’s a fatal error in all situations. But, they managed to win me over at the end of my meal when I was served a complimentary dish of Neapolitan ice cream. This small-town gesture reminded me so much of my Grandma’s house that it melted away all residual cynicism from the public library experience.
Zimmy's Restaurant
Zimmy's Restaurant
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…I read a review somewhere saying that Hibbing seems “uncomfortable” with its Bob Dylan legacy. After my visit I think that is probably the best way to describe it. Admittedly it’s not like Bob gives them much to work with – he skipped town as soon as he could and spent years evading questions about his origins – not exactly your typical Hometown Hero. The town, whose slogan is Hibbing: We’re Ore and More, prefers to advertise their successful mining industry, and that’s probably for the best. Just don’t go to Hibbing expecting to gain any deeper understanding of pop culture’s most enduring enigma. Go as a silly fan that only wants to stand in the front yard of the house he grew up in and smile.
“Rambler Gambler” – “Oh I’m a rambler, I’m a gambler/I’m a long way from my home/If the people don’t like me/They can leave me alone”
ellen willis: out of the vinyl deeps
I hate to admit that prior to my mom gifting me this book I had no idea who Ellen Willis was. I’d read some of her writing as part of the Rolling Stone Illustrated History of Rock & Roll but her name never registered with me, and it certainly didn’t sit on my brain shelf alongside names like Greil Marcus, Lester Bangs, and Robert Christgau, where it belongs. This book blew me away.
Ellen Willis was a trailblazer in the world of rock criticism. Hired in 1968 to be The New Yorker’s first popular music critic, Willis was also one of the first prominent females in a field dominated by men. She published her column “Rock, Etc.” in The New Yorker for seven years, blending popular music, cultural commentary, and sociological insight. Out of the Vinyl Deeps is a collection of Willis’ writing from that column as well as essays and articles from other publications.
Being a biased fan with the additional handicap of hindsight combined with a weird form of nostalgia for something I was never part of, I often have trouble with rock criticism (see one of my first posts on the subject). Part of the reason Willis’s writing resonates so strongly with me is that it seems to transcend critique. It’s really a lot more about enhancing the music by placing it in its appropriate socio-cultural context. Many times I had to stop reading and go put on whatever record she was discussing because she’d given me so much more to think about while listening to it. Her writing enhances the music and challenges the reader to think beyond it.
She does all of this without the pretentiousness that pollutes a lot of artistic critique. Her prose is straightforward and personable. She talks about dancing alone in her apartment and how certain albums sound better stoned out of your mind. It’s almost like she could just be one of your friends, albeit the incredibly talented, hip, New York one.
Ellen Willis at work
Ellen Willis passed away in 2006, and by then she had moved well away from her days as a music writer. She was a journalism professor at New York University and the head of its Center for Cultural Reporting and Criticism. After her New Yorker column ended in 1975 she turned more toward feminism (a strong current in her earlier writing) and broader cultural commentary.
After one trip through this book my copy is already so underlined and dog-eared I may need to get a clean one for round two. Her articles cover everyone from Elvis to The New York Dolls. There is an abundance of writing on Bob Dylan (probably another reason why I like this book so much) including the essay that got her hired at The New Yorker, a 1967 piece written for Cheetah that is one of the most insightful, compelling discussions of Dylan that I’ve ever come across.
If you haven’t spent much time (or in my case, any) with Ellen Willis’s writing, or even if you have, Out of the Vinyl Deeps is a fabulously well-compiled collection of some of the best rock journalism on the planet, and a hell of a good read.
“My Back Pages” – Bob Dylan
new album from the milk carton kids
This spring, at their Austin, Texas show, The Milk Carton Kids introduced themselves as “the only music more depressing than Joe Purdy’s.” I now understand why they said that. Unlike their live album Retrospect– with tracks like the jubilant “Like a Cloak,” or the cosmically reassuring “Permanent,” or the disarmingly sweet “Charlie” – The Kids’ first studio album Prologue is a tear-stained journey through loss and heartache, sure to resonate with anyone who has ever had their heart broken.
One of the most gut-wrenching moments on the album comes in “Michigan” with the gorgeous lead track’s plaintive refrain of “What am I supposed to do now, without you?” Joey Ryan’s wounded voice distills all the complexities of a break up or loss down to that one simple question, and the album leaves it unanswered. Nothing like a universal truth delivered in a melody to remind you that everyone else has been there too.
The other emotional sucker punch track for me is “One Goodbye.” Sung by Kenneth Pattengale, the straightforward chorus cuts right to the heart: “I’m glad we met/And God we tried/My one regret/We got one goodbye.” The tragic simplicity of those lines choked me up the first time I listened to the song.
For me these two songs will go alongside heartbreak anthems like The Band’s “It Makes No Difference” or Neil Young’s “Only Love Can Break Your Heart.” The other eight tracks are each haunting and lovely, making Prologue a perfect album for a rainy day or a difficult time. Pay close attention to the well-crafted lyrics, there are just enough notes of redemption and hope weaved throughout to keep the album buoyant despite its melancholy.
Prologue, like Retrospect, is available for download completely free from The Milk Carton Kids’ website. It can also be purchased from iTunes with an extra bonus track. In support of the new album The Kids will be hitting the road for a 40-date U.S. tour kicking off August 10th in Phoenix, Arizona. You can check out the tour dates while you’re on their website downloading the album ;) If you missed them out on the road with Joe Purdy you don’t want to make that mistake again, trust me.
and as we wind on down the road…
That Mercury Sound is moving! After 18 lovely months in Austin, Texas I am packing up and heading to the great white north – Minneapolis, Minnesota. I’ve been there a total of once (two weeks ago) and know next to nothing about it. I’ve heard good things about the music scene though, and am looking forward to checking it out. But, before I can start my new Midwestern life I have to get there… cue the Road Trip.
My sister, musician extraordinaire and the greatest travel partner a girl could ask for, is going to make the trek with me. The directions are simple enough – get on I-35 North, get off in Minneapolis (literally), so at least that part’s easy. And I’m alllllmost packed, but now comes the really important issue – the road trip playlist.
A road trip playlist is a fickle beast. It has to be just the right mix of familiarity, sing alongability, and tempo to really propel you across the country. We’ll be driving through such breathtaking vistas as Oklahoma, Kansas, Missouri, and Iowa – so this mix really has to not suck.
My roadtrip genres of choice trend towards oldies, classic rock, and 80’s power ballads. I’m always leery of putting anything too super new on the mix, if it hasn’t withstood the test of time yet, odds are it won’t withstand the test of repetition on the road weary. It’s really also no time for sincere emotional introspection – this is why Eddie Money makes the list, but Tim Buckley does not.
It is both a welcome and daunting task, for when the perfect road trip playlist is assembled it can become an indispensible partner in your battle against boredom. I am working to create just such a mix over the next few days. Are there any driving songs you just can’t live without?
”Hang on Sloopy” – The McCoys, maybe my favorite car song of all time. What’s yours???
