Monday, September 29, 2014

If You're Only Going to Buy One Greatest Hits Set From... Fleetwood Mac

Well, the easiest thing to say is “Just buy a copy of Rumours,” but it really isn’t that simple.

Between 1975 and 1988, Fleetwood Mac placed 17 songs on the Billboard Top 40, 16 of which made Top 20.  (“Love in Store” was the only miss – in addition to three others than didn’t make the Top 40 at all.)  That’s from five studio albums (Tusk was a double, the rest were all single albums), which means three or four chart hits per album.  So, yeah, Rumours is going to be the one you know the best – songs like “Second Hand News” and “The Chain,” which are pretty familiar to anyone who’s my age weren’t even released as singles – but there weren’t any bombs in the bunch.
So, from that perspective, 1988’s Greatest Hits would seem to make the most sense.  It includes virtually all of the basic hits listed above (only “Love in Store” and 1987’s “Seven Wonders” aren’t included), and it throws in two songs exclusive to this compilation – Christine McVie’s “As Long as You Follow” and Stevie Nicks’ “No Questions Asked.”  From the label’s point of view, the hits sense made sense, too – Lindsey Buckingham had just bolted the band because he didn’t want to tour; the two new songs included Rick Vito and Billy Burnette in Buckingham’s place (they’d replaced him for the tour as well).  That said, it doesn’t feel like it’s complete.

In 1992, Mac jumped on the box set gravy train with 25 Years – The Chain, a four-CD set that included three disks almost exclusively from the Buckingham-Nicks era (a few songs were from 1990’s Behind the Mask, which also was Buckingham-free), and one disk primarily from the Peter Green-Danny Kirwan-Jeremy Spencer blues era.  (Bob Welch’s era gets very short shrift – a few songs from the early years disk and two songs inexplicably tucked in among the Buckingham-McVie years disks; he spent most of the 1990s in litigation with Mick Fleetwood, John McVie, and Christine McVie over royalties, so this could have been a factor.)  25 Years – The Chain is out of print in the U.S., but is available in the UK (and on Amazon) at an absurdly low $19.99 (Amazon’s got a two-disk excerpts set culled from the four-disk set which is twice as much), so it might be worth searching out.  (I don’t have it.)

So, that leaves one best option:


The Very Best of Fleetwood Mac

I should point out the ‘90s were very strange for the band – Nicks bailed out after 25 Years-The Chain along with Vito; for the 1995 release Time their places were taken by Bekka Bramlett (Delaney and Bonnie’s daughter) and Dave Mason (huh?).  Amazon still has Behind the Mask and Time in print and available for digital download, even though I don’t think the band plays any of the material from that era anymore.  In 1996, Nicks worked with Buckingham on a song for the Twister soundtrack, which helped bury the hatched between the two; that developed into a full-scale reunion and tour.

In 1997, the band released The Dance, which contained some actual new material – McVie’s “Temporary One,” Buckingham’s “Bleed to Love Her” (which would show up again in 2003’s Christine-free Say You Will) and “My Little Demon,” and Nicks’ “Sweet Girl” (which would pop up again in a demo version on her 1998 solo box set Enchanted) and “Silver Springs” (a B-side from the Rumours days, which was a subject of controversy when Fleetwood stuck it on 25 Years-The Chain after refusing to let Nicks put it on a solo greatest hits album).  By 2002, the original band members (excluding Christine McVie) were assembling Say You Will, and Warner Brothers decided to prime the pump again with The Very Best.

Smartly, they made sure almost every song on the two-CD Very Best was from the core fivesome. (There are four songs from the Vito-Burnette period tucked at the end of the second disk – two of them were only on Greatest Hits, one was from Behind the Mask, the fourth from the box set; Time is understandably completely left out.)  The original U.S. edition has some bonus material playable on PCs; that may now be gone.  The oddities are live versions of “Big Love” and “I’m So Afraid,” along with, weirdly “Go Insane” (which may have been performed by the band, but originated as a Lindsey Buckingham solo, and charted as such in 1984).  Songs such as “Monday Morning,” “Never Going Back Again,” and “Storms,” which were popular album cuts, get their due here.  (Obviously Say You Will, which included everyone but Christine McVie and was released in 2003, isn’t represented on The Very Best either.)

This clocks in on Amazon at $11.88, which is reasonable for a two-CD set.  And the thing still sells – it’s in the top 100 sellers overall on in their Music section as I write this.  Of course, they’re touring again now – this time with Christine McVie back in the fold.

Other options:

  • The aforementioned Greatest Hits is a cheap alternative now at $6.98, and it includes the basics (but nothing else).  It’s a good idea for the budget conscious; happily Warner Brothers has not gone the route of Universal Polygram with its 20th Century Masters sets, which generally have 11 or 12 songs which seem to be selected at random.
  • 25 Years – The Chain is $19.99 on Amazon until somebody wakes up and raises the price.
  • There are plenty of compilations for Peter Green’s early version of the group, which featured blues wizard Green, Danny Kirwan, Jeremy Spencer, as well as John McVie and Mick Fleetwood.  Columbia/Sony owns the rights to the band’s work from that early era (their switch to Reprise/Warner Brothers seems to have coincided with Green’s departure).  I’m not really familiar enough with their music from that era to form an opinion; be aware that if the best-of disk you’ve bought isn’t one of the three above, it probably ain’t gonna have anything by Buckingham or Nicks.
  • As for solo compilations; only one of the key five members has any.  (I’m not counting Bob Welch; he does have an expensive best-of, but his first and best solo studio album French Kiss is the better purchase at less than 40 percent of the price.) John McVie, to my knowledge, has never done anything solo; Mick Fleetwood did a couple of solo releases in the 1980s but didn’t generate any hits.  Christine McVie has done three solo albums spread out over 34 years; it’s easier just to get the individual album.  And Lindsey Buckingham’s idiosyncratic solo career has been on a bunch of different labels as well (although some record company geek would do well to make the studio version of “Holiday Road,” from National Lampoon’s Vacation, available for digital download).  Stevie Nicks, however, has generated three compilations to go with her seven studio albums. Crystal Visions is the most obvious, recent, and cheap (it includes some live material that she originally recorded with Fleetwood Mac); Timespace is the one to avoid (Nicks’ life was such a mess at that point that Jon Bon Jovi was brought in to write the awful “Sometimes It’s a Bitch” to add to the set; the song flopped as a single and is conspicuous by its absence from all other Nicks albums).  I love Enchanted, the three-CD box set – I bought it in a weak moment after seeing a VH1 Behind the Music episode about her, which is usually a recipe for disaster, but it’s really a model of the form.  Two disks of hits, near misses, and alternate versions, and one disk of songs she’s recorded with others (I would have subbed John Stewart’s “Midnight Wind,” which is more of a duet, with “Gold,” but that’s personal preference) and demos.  It’s out of print, but worth finding.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

If You’re Only Going to Buy One Greatest Hits Set From… Heart

Like many bands that have been around for a number of years, Heart’s been on more than one record label.  As far as the hits go, however, it’s kind of an odd division:  everything from “Barracuda” through 1983’s minor hits “How Can I Refuse” and “Allies” was on Portrait Records, a boutique label within Epic Records (which itself is part of Columbia/Sony/BMG).  From 1985 on through 1993’s “Will You Be There (In the Morning),” an era which included nine top 15 hits of the MTV era (those are the videos Billboard once described as “Leave It to Cleavage”), the band was on Capitol.  Since then, they’ve done a couple of small label releases, and now are back on Epic.  (Their last two studio albums both made the top 30 in Billboard’s album chart, so they’re still a viable act.
Sounds like an even split of songs, right?  Yeah, but labels don’t often work well together at this sort of thing – and there are also the songs off the band’s first two albums (which include “Magic Man” and “Crazy on You,” both from their debut Dreamboat Annie).  Released on Mushroom, a small Canadian label, Heart bolted for Portrait in 1977 after a really repugnant ad campaign.  The songs from that era (which include “Heartless,” released on Magazine, a subsequent album of leftovers and demos that Mushroom had to recall so the band could rerecord and remix it) were eventually placed on 1980’s Greatest Hits/Live vinyl album. Mushroom’s rights to Dreamboat Annie and Magazine, however, expired when the label collapsed in the early 1980s, and the albums were picked up by… Capitol.
Consequently, there have been a bunch of greatest hits sets released – but only one which featured their Portrait/Epic and Capitol hits in equal proportions.
The Essential Heart
Sony/BMG has been releasing these Essential doohickeys for years, and with the various acquisitions the conglomerate has made, they’ve ranged fairly far afield.  (I have The Essential George Benson, a label he barely recorded for well before he had any hits; I’ve seen stuff from The Essential Django Reinhardt to The Essential Hilary Hahn.)  Some are one disk, some are two, and they even tried rereleasing a few of the more popular ones (including Heart) with a third disk containing between six and nine songs and an eco-friendly package (a.k.a. no jewel box).  In any case, this one, released in 2002, is nearly perfect; the hits are divided equally between the 1975-1983 Mushroom/Portrait years on the first disk, and the 1985-1993 Capitol years on the second.  You can listen to “Magic Man” and “All I Wanna Do Is Make Love to You” back to back if you want to. (Don’t do that in front of the band; they hate the latter song – it’s been excluded from their live set for a long time.)  And the price for the two-disk set is pretty reasonable – it’s $11.88 on Amazon; the three-disk set does have a few songs that are relatively rare (“Strange Euphoria”), but probably would be easier to download rather than spending an extra five bucks.
I was very surprised to see the two labels cooperate with one another – and made it a priority to acquire this when it became available.
Other options:

-          1980’s Greatest Hits/Live had a few songs lopped off in the early CD era and was retitled Greatest Hits; it’s not a complete look at their earliest years, but it’s priced lower than many other sets.

-          Capitol and Sony both have their own individual single-disk greatest hits sets out there (Capitol issued one in 1997 and another in 2000 – not sure why; the latter doesn’t overlap the Sony set like the former does, however, and I think the first one’s out of print anyway).

-          For the budget-conscious, Sony’s Playlist: The Very Best of Heart contains 14 songs that span their career (although the Mushroom and Capitol years are represented by live versions from a 2003 album); it’s usually available for between five and eight bucks.

-          Strange Euphoria is their box set; judging by the playlist, you’ll want The Essential Heart to supplement it – but it has a pile of demos, a DVD from a 1976, and the Amazon version has five Led Zeppelin remakes on a “Heart Zeppish” disk.  (Amazon, of course, has made sure that three of those five remakes cannot be downloaded from their web site unless you download the whole damn thing.)

Friday, September 5, 2014

Just A Whitey From Blighty: Songs Of and About Great Britain

Songs about the UK, British people, British themes, all things Limey. I'm gonna not be piggy this round and post only a few songs to start us off. The rest will come in via Facebook (presumably). If I don't get many entries I will post a recording of my terrible fake British accent, so be forewarned.

Saturday, August 30, 2014

A Song of Recovery

I’m not quite sure what it is about artists, but they share a behavioral pattern with folks who work in the restaurant / hospitality business, in that a significant amount of them have or have had serious substance abuse issues.

The odds for long-term survival for alcoholics and addicts are slim; it’s estimated that recovery efforts (be they inpatient rehab, intensive outpatient treatment, twelve-step work, quitting cold-turkey, other methods, or some combination thereof) succeed at a rate of roughly ten percent.  But when someone can overcome their demons, there can be some genuine beauty: The late Lou Reed, for example, or Chris Cornell’s still-magnificent voice.

One such case is Nick Cave, who told me last year that he had “tried everything at least twice, and I liked most of it.” His preferred escape methods were heroin and alcohol, but after several – more than a dozen, in fact – cycles of abuse < rehab < relapse < abuse < rehab < relapse, he finally got sober for good in early 2000, coinciding with the birth of his twin sons. The album he and his band, the Bad Seeds, released the following year, is filled with songs pertaining to his new outlook on life as well, but there are a few nuggets that speak specifically to his recovery from addiction, and it’s one of those that I’m writing about today.

“Hallelujah” is, thankfully, not yet another John Cale-inspired cover of Leonard Cohen’s classic. Rather, it’s a song about having a lapse, but stopping it before it becomes a relapse.

 A counselor once explained to me the difference between the two: A lapse is essentially akin to veering off the road a little bit – you go onto the shoulder on the highway, but quickly correct your course. A relapse is like going into the ditch. For an addict, lapses are common, but it’s incumbent upon us to prevent those bad thoughts – those lapses – from getting worse and putting ourselves into a ditch. And that’s exactly what Nick Cave sings about in “Hallelujah.”

The narrator – Cave himself, almost assuredly – speaks about finding himself in a rut, with his typewriter “mute as a tomb,” and his “nurse” – his sobriety – having been given the weekend off. It’s a common situation for people in early recovery; we have a period of sobriety and then start to think we can relax a little bit. This is reflected in Warren Ellis’ omnipresent violin melody, which runs through essentially the entire song; the early repetition depicts the monotony and banality that the narrator feels, longing for something he used to have. And so the narrator goes on a walk, alone, without a coat, something his “nurse would not have allowed.” Essentially, he has forgotten the “we” part of recovery, or is at least choosing to ignore it, and starting to think it’s a “me” process, hence his pajamas clinging to him like a shroud. An early indicator of a potential relapse, after all, is isolation of self and rejection of socialization and assistance.

And then the temptation, the lure of a return to substance use, rears its head with all the subtlety of a cobra preparing to strike:

There rose before me a little house
With all hope and dreams kept within
A woman's voice close to my ear
Said, "Why don't you come in here?
You looked soaked to the skin."

Let’s call a spade a spade: When you’ve spent years using a substance, be it alcohol, heroin, cocaine, Diet Coke, whatever, and then you have to give it up and live life without it … it SUCKS. If it were easy, the success rate I mentioned earlier would be far higher than ten percent. And so, the temptation to go back to your drug of choice is ever-present. It’s so incredibly easy to give into that temptation. And the narrator seriously ponders it, despite knowing in the back of his head that it’s wrong…

I turned to the woman and the woman was young
I extended a hearty salutation
But I knew if my nurse had been here
She would never in a thousand years
Permit me to accept that invitation

Generally speaking, this is called a “crisis” moment in relapse prevention. As an analogy, a recovering alcoholic is standing at the front door of a liquor store, or an addict hasn’t just found the dope man’s number, but has a thumb hovering just over the “dial” button. The odds of preventing a relapse at this point are … well, not good. That being said, not everything is lost. Whether it’s calling a sponsor or another support network member, having the willpower to let the craving pass, what have you, it can happen. And our narrator – again, Cave himself – illustrates that.

Now, you might think it wise to risk it all
Throw caution to the reckless wind
But with her hot cocoa and her medication
My nurse had been my one salvation
So I turned back home

And so the lapse has been stopped, corrected, attended to, before it became a relapse. 

It's not over, of course, as the song ends with a haunting refrain:

The tears are welling in my eyes again
I need twenty big buckets to catch them in
Twenty pretty girls to carry them down
Twenty deep holes to bury them in

This is one of the most essential components of relapse prevention: The acknowledgment of pain and past wrongs is an essential part of recovery. We can't ignore what we've done ... but we can't wallow in it, either. It's fine to remember the past and to cry about it and to contemplate upon it -- as Captain Kirk said, "I don't want my pain taken away, I need my pain!" But we can't dwell upon it.

Addiction is a disease of mind, body and soul, and it takes serious, legitimate, long-term work to address it. But as Nick Cave wrote in “Hallelujah,” the temptation is and always will be present, especially when one starts to get lax or complacent – thinking “I’ve got this,” or “I know what I’m doing.” Down that road lies danger … but just because you start down that road, or veer towards the shoulder a bit, it doesn't mean you are definitely or conclusively going to keep going down that road.

Saturday, August 16, 2014

One More One More Day

Progress on "One More Day to Rain" continues, with the introduction of Morgan Henry's fabulous lick (i.e. the very heart of the song).  This is bare bones, remember -- the vocals are dry, and we haven't added effects and other guitar parts. But the frame of this particular room of the house is up and looks pretty good.

One More Day to Rain

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

A Music History

1974  Harry Ailster, the flamboyant, mercurial music teacher of my fourth grade class, calls on me to answer a question. I look up, gape-mouthed, as I have not been paying the least bit attention. "He's reading Bugs Bunny," a classmate informs Harry, pointing at the book I am trying to hide under my desk. "I'll bugs HIS bunny!" Harry roars, and snatches the book from my hand.

1978  Harry makes each pupil learn and perform for the class a verse from an old folk song. I get up and sing my verse of "Joe Turner." Harry gives me an A and informs me I will be performing in the upcoming 8th grade musical, The Truth About Cinderella.

Taking my bow.
1980  On a gray, cheerless Monday in January, my mother has become alarmed enough by my reclusive, semi-destructive state of mind to hustle me off to a family therapist. The therapy center is in a large converted house, drafty and cold. I am sitting in the waiting room, embarrassed and uncomfortable. I try to boost my spirits by looking forward to the end of the week, Friday, January 18, when I will be taking my first guitar lesson. In retrospect it is abundantly clear which appointment did me the most good.

July-August 1980 I spend the summer mostly with my only real friend, John Krause. We take frequent bike rides and bus rides to the library, where we borrow books and records to feed our new fascination with John Lennon. Krause is especially interested in Plastic Ono Band because it has a lot of strong piano parts. We get sheet music and learn the songs, practicing and performing them together at the Presbyterian Church, which has permitted John to borrow its magnificent grand piano.

September 1980  It is announced that John Lennon and Yoko Ono are returning to public life with a brand new album, Double Fantasy.

December 1980 John Lennon is murdered in front of his New York City apartment building.

Spring 1982 I am ordered by the head of the English department at my high school to report to auditions for the senior year musical, How To Succeed in Business Without Really Trying.  I ignore the order, being too cool and punk rock for such things (e.g., being an idiot). The head of the English department responds by giving me detention and orders me again to report to auditions for the senior year musical -- which happens to be directed by none other than Harry "I'll bugs his bunny" Ailster. I win the part of Benjamin Burton Daniel Ovington.

May 1982 I join the New Providence High School Folk Club.

May 1982  By the time of the New Providence High School Folk Club Concert, I had joined and performed with my first band, PinPoint (later the Hot Rods, among other names), a 50s-rockabilly quartet. But on this occasion I am playing with Kazumi Umeda, a superb classical pianist, and Steve Muller, a gifted bass player, and we had put together a set of John Lennon songs to perform at the concert. At this point I had suffered a lot of ridicule for having been so expressive about my grief over Lennon's death (such as carrying one of his albums around the halls in a daze the day after), and it had gotten so bad that kids would yell out "Lennon!" when I passed through the halls. I didn't care. Well, I sort of cared. On this, my first and last public appearance in front of my high school peers as an audience, I am greeted onstage by catcalls and mocking. The huge, stupid bully who had beat me up regularly a few years before yells out mockingly "LENNON". I quaver, a little.

Kazumi sits down at the piano and starts a gentle, perfect rendition of "Imagine". Amid hoots and whoops I start to sing. Seconds later, dead silence from the audience ensues. During the next two songs, "God" and another I can't recall, you can hear a pin drop. The applause that follows our performance is loud, and it stays with me and sustains me through a lot of years.

[EDIT: Kazumi tells me the third song was probably "Jealous Guy". I am certain he is correct.]

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Nice Day for A White Wedding

On my Facebook page I asked people to post a wedding song -- their own or someone else's -- and here are the results, starting with my own.

Sunday, July 6, 2014

Early Rumblings, Part 2: Two More Rough Tracks

Some more early versions of the songs that will make up the Abandoned and Heartbroke  album. You can listen to two other songs here.

I have a dream of making some LPs out of this. An actual record album would be fun to have and a blast to design.

Pay no attention to most of the lyrics on "These Times". They were meant only as a placeholder for finished lyrics, which still have not been decided upon, but in the meantime some of them make me cringe. I do hear a sweeping epic of a song in the making, at least instrumentally.

These Times

Into the Night

Thursday, July 3, 2014

You Can't Sit Down

By (massively) popular demand, a list of songs about standing, as supplied by many, many Facebook friends. Take it away, kids...