Halloween

from the LP Keeper of the Seven Keys Part I, Noise International Records, 1987



Happy New Years!! Well, only if you still follow the ancient Celtic calendar I suppose, but seeing as how we’ve co-opted their biggest celebration of the year and turned it into a major boon for the candy industries, I figure it’d be both more fun and more appropriate to get at the true significance of October 31^st; it’s perfect that daylight savings happens to fall here this year, as that was the definitive line for the Celts and many other Anglo- groups between what they considered the ‘dark half’ of the year that’s beginning, and the ‘light half’ which is ending. They had a much cooler name for this celebration as well: “SAMHAIN”. It was largely believed that the invisible boundary between the living and the dead was thinnest on this day, allowing for spirits to make their way into our world for a brief time, leading to all sorts of superstitious activities that have come to be associated with this day (i.e. costumes, jack-o-lanterns, bonfires). It’s no coincidence that the Christian holiday of All Saint’s Day follows right on its heels, having been established that way specifically to combat the lingering threads to paganism which remained in the British Isles; some parents still like to get all frenzied and paranoid about it, don’t they? Hell, I remember even back in the ‘80s that local news stations would encourage folks to open and inspect all their kid’s candy, due to the ongoing sinister myth about Satanists and maniacs lacing candy with poison or putting razor blades inside of it. Funny thing about that though, when some researchers undertook an extensive study of Halloween related deaths & homicides in America, going all the way back to the 1950s, they couldn’t find a single case of a child being harmed due to some nefarious stranger tampering with candy---in fact, they could only find one poisoning death stemming from Halloween candy, and (not terribly surprisingly) the poisoning was done at the hands of the child’s aunt, go figure. At any rate, this track seemed suitable enough, an epic slice of prog-metal from Germany; actually, they called this stuff “power metal”, which I believe is what happens if Anthrax & Foreigner were to have a baby: anthemic, arena rock tendencies with a thrash foundation… throw those devil horns in the air!

Cold Rain & Snow

from the LP The Grateful Dead, Warner Bros. Records, 1967



Blanketed in over 2 ft. of snow now, drifting to the top of the 6 ½ ft. backyard fence, all of which is pure joy for our dog Penny, the snow-beagle (pictured above all the drugs to your right), and watching her bunnyhop around in the snow bowl is entertainment enough for me; however, the really exciting thing is that both of the colleges I teach for have closed their campuses today--- WOO-HOO!!! I remember, a very long time ago now, when I was first getting into the Grateful Dead, to be truly cool you were basically supposed to shun all of their studio albums in favor of bootlegs, across the board; while my passion for live Dead sets hasn’t waned, I’d be a liar if I told you I haven’t grown to love every single album they put out from this debut to Blues For Allah. I remember being shocked the first time I played this record, knowing many of the songs already but having been familiarized with live, much slower, versions of them, and it absolutely floored me; this song in particular never again approached even half the speed at which they blow through it here. Their youthful exuberance & sprawling urgency always puts a grin on my face, having no inkling as to the cultural marvel they would later become, just playing their hearts out for the heads in their town. They never really played this fast again, live or on record, so I’ve come to cherish the versions of Dead classics found within this album; most of all, Pigpen’s sprightly organ warms me to the fucking core!

Dumb Waiters

from the 7” single, Columbia Records, 1981



So, sitting here in the middle of a blizzard and we already have close to a foot of snow on the ground, much of which I just shoveled off of the driveway & sidewalk in front of my house only an hour’s time ago, yet by now it almost looks like I did nothing at all… (sigh). It is beautiful though, like living inside a snow globe---good excuse to get some soup cooking on the stove, roll out the hashish & bunker down for a little while (puff puff, slurp slurp). Something about this song, by British art-punks the Psychedelic Furs, gives me the impression of being caught out in a snow storm, all the dense layering & processed effects washing over you like glacial waves of arctic sound; certainly, singer Richard Butler’s gravelly voice couldn’t get much icier. Extraordinary producer Steve Lillywhite definitely worked his magic across this entire album, and Butler’s cryptic lyrics only add to the shadowy atmosphere, “…give me all your paper ma, so I can buy a train; I don't know how I got in here, it's making me insane; have another cigarette and have another cigarette, in a room where lovers go, talking on the telephone…they have got it in for me, yeah I mean it honestly…they all dream…”

Close to You

from the LP Since I Left You, Modular Recordings, 2000



Composed entirely of song collages that were created from over 3,500 different samples, Since I Left You, the debut album by Aussie electronic collective The Avalanches, took DJ Shadow’s concept for …Endtroducing to a level never before seen; I don’t envy the poor chap who was put in charge of legally clearing all those samples! This track is one of the best on the album, a panoply of brass, strings, synths & percussion weaving themselves into an ever-morphing tapestry that moves through several different sections before sliding into an extended coda that plays us out in tribal fashion. The amount of obsessive attention that must be paid to a song like this one is almost unimaginable, much less an entire album’s worth, as mashing that many samples together could easily sound like a dissonant & horrible mess. Everyone’s been waiting patiently for their next album to drop for damn near close to a decade now, and I’ll bet you can guess what the hold-up is---sample clearance.

In Passing...

I received some very saddening news during my office hours at school this morning, learning a student of mine had passed away last week, and forgive me, but I need to write about it. The only detail I feel comfortable sharing, and the one thing that I can’t shake, is that she absolutely did not see this coming; my better half & I lost our very dear friend Brad a few years ago, abruptly & unexpectedly from a rare blood disorder, and this brings up some very raw emotions I’ve stuffed deep since that time. Knowing someone with an unswerving passion for life who is lost early in their journey just hurts so much, it just feels so damn unfair…I didn’t even know this student very well, and yet reading over her papers from this semester I’m overcome by her sense of anticipation for the adventures around the next corner, and its overwhelming me with a torrent of feelings, sadness, anger, ashamed for being so lazy and taking so much for granted in my life, thankful for everything I have, determined to try harder, then ashamed again because I know this will wear off in intensity, and I’ll get lazy again…and it’s just not fucking fair that so many people who desperately want to live die while evil rat-bastards live long healthy lives, and it affirms my belief that nature, biology, physics---they don’t consider karma, or virtues, or anything other than reality itself, which sometimes means a crappy illness robs the world of amazing individuals, and there is no greater reason to it, it just plain sucks. Tell the people you love how much you love them, because life is too damn short. I apologize for the heaviness. Dedicated to the memory of Jenna, and to us all trying a little bit harder...

Teacher

from the LP Benefit, Chrysalis Records, 1970



Ever since VH1 aired those “History of Metal” documentaries (ad infinitum), in which they have a montage of several noted musicians bemoaning Tull’s winning of the first ever Grammy for heavy metal band in the late ‘80s, it’s downright uncanny how many people I’ve come across who suddenly hate Tull and have only this example to show as evidence---really? You really love and respect the bloody, buggery Grammys enough to write off the work of an incredible band just due to the panel of voters being clearly confused as to what constitutes ‘heavy metal’? I think not…but, of course, if you are a faithful addict of the Honeypot here, I have to presume you aren’t hung up on fucktarted stuff like that; I mean, loathe Tull for the right reasons, like, perhaps Ian Anderson’s voice creeps you out too much to be able to enjoy the music, or because your entire family was murdered by a roving pack of homicidal flautists when you were a child, but not because of some lame award show. This pace-shifting track is a great example of what Tull does best: weaving stony hard rock licks with progressive folky themes, all tied together with Anderson’s daunting flute. The sage advice our young student receives is solid wisdom for all times, “…I have a lesson that I must impart to you; it's an old expression, but I must insist it's true…jump up, look around, find yourself some fun, no sense in sitting there hating everyone….” Amen to that!

Try

from the LP Tronic, Fat Beats Records, 2008



I guess I’ve always had something of a love affair with Detroit (albeit, I have never had to actually live there), something about that mesmerizing ghetto sprawl that makes even the most hardened New Yorker or Los Angelino open there eyes wide in shock, producing some of the fiercest tunes and musical trends of the last 50 years and yet shunning the accolades of non-residents, championing the concept of fierce localism to an extent rarely experienced outside of small neighborhoods or surf breaks; I remember going to raves in Detroit where 30 or 40 cars would get broken into, on a good night! Obviously, something about that dark edge has helped to concoct zeitgeist defining music from every decade, from the proto-punk of the MC5 & the Stooges to the acidy skronk of Funkadelic, from the very foundation of techno music in the ‘80s to, more recently, some of the headiest instrumental hip-hop beats since the golden era. Although the magic Dilla produced, rest his soul, will be near-impossible to move beyond, fellow Motown kid & quasi-protégé Curtis ‘Black Milk’ Cross does his damnedest to make the master proud; as with Dilla, soul music provides the vast majority of samples herein, particularly strong on the strings, and Cross has improved at least moderately in his flow over the years…really though, I’d suggest seeking out the instrumental bootlegs, but that’s just me…

Ghetto Living

from the 7” single, Gibbs Records, 1975



It’s no coincidence that the Mighty Diamonds are one of the longest running reggae groups in history, releasing some of the most memorable harmonies Jamaica ever produced, beginning in 1969 and still releasing music to this day; although Bob, Peter & Bunny received the lion’s share of attention, when it came to trio’s, there were several crews on the island that had better vocal chops than the Wailers ever did. The Diamonds cut this heady number for producer Joe Gibbs right before they were about to drop their debut album, and it served as a good indicator of their style: roots reggae with a socially conscious edge, but never preachy or overly zealous, keeping the music at the core of things. They continue to tour all the time and I highly recommend going if you get the chance, you won’t be disappointed.

Automatic

from the LP Break Out, Planet Records, 1983



Okay, so if I was a single android looking to score with some sexy, automaton hover-taxi driver, this would be the song I’d have programmed on my hi-fi system to play the moment we opened the front door of my recharging station and walked inside, busting into my best robot dance moves in hopes of us spending the night in electronic ecstasy… forgive the allegory, smoking some really potent shit this morning, Nectarine (AK x Tangerine) kief, and it’s got my head in the clouds, for real. Although they had been performing professionally for over a decade prior to this release, the Pointer Sisters (Anita, June & Ruth) were just hitting their stride in the early ‘80s, shunning their old retro-camp image in favor of the electronic delicacies of a new, then-modern world. This track was the first single, and easily my all-time favorite of theirs: Casio beats, funky synthbass, Moogs galore and, to top it all off, the sultry near-bass vocal stylings of sister Ruth---there was an amazing tech-house remix of this track that opened the second side of DJ Feelgood’s Happy House Vol. 2 mixtape, looping the snippet where she sings, “…all systems run aground…”…so phatty.

When You Were Mine

from the LP The Blurred Crusade, Arista Records, 1982



Generally speaking, Aussie bands have never received the attention or acclaim of their British kin, perhaps due, in part, to their island nation’s geographic isolation; in the case of Canberra-based crew the Church, I sometimes speculate whether or not the very name they chose for themselves might have also played a part in them becoming increasingly forgotten outside of their native homeland. For example, plenty of Americans would surely recognize their biggest hit, “Under the Milky Way Tonight”, but I’d wager that only a tiny fraction of them would be able to recall the name of the group who performed it. This song was on their second album, my favorite of theirs, and aptly displays all the genres they drew influence from: the driving rhythm section of Tim Powles (drums) & Steve Kilbey (bass) taking cues from goth rock, guitarists Piper and Koppes pulling from acid rock and post-punk alike, and Kibley’s singing style, though recognizable as his own, was surely begun as an ode to Robert Smith, processed to eerie, wraithlike perfection. If you enjoy this track, by all means, dig into these guys’ discography, from their genesis to about 1989 or so, you will be amazed at what you find there!

Papua New Guinea

from the 12” single, Jumpin & Pumpin Records, 1991



Often times the mark of a truly memorable and/or breathtaking song is its ability to defy categorization, and after all these years, I still don’t know exactly what to label this debut track from British electronic veterans Future Sound of London (FSoL): maybe you could call it ‘progressive breaks’, or ‘proto trance’ perhaps? One thing is for certain however, and that’s the fact that this single took the rave world by storm when it was released, and it has never really gone away since; FSoL chose two rather different sources for sampling inspiration on this track, pairing Meat Beat Manifesto’s raggafied “Radio Babylon” with the ethereal sounds of “Dawn of the Iconclast”, care of the avant-classical duo Dead Can Dance. Everything else falls into place perfectly, creating this interplanetary aura which transports the listener into the song’s geographic title, only, as experienced from Mars.

Strangers

from the LP Dummy, Go! Beat Records, 1994



This album came out of nowhere, as if someone had just taken a huge bonghit in Bristol and exhaled this smoky mix of jazz inspired hip-hop beats, carried aloft by the dulcet tones of singer Beth Gibbons; seriously folks, when this first dropped it literally affected my monthly marijuana budget, so many nights spent in candle-lit living rooms and bedrooms, blunted out of my mind, blasting Portishead. This particular track never fails to get my head bobbing, the hazy mid-tempo pace lulling me into a dazed state; the inclusion of that interlude at the beginning, with only Ms. Gibbons singing backed by an acoustic guitar, provides a dizzyingly blissful contrast to the fuzzed-out psychedelic beats that DJ and producer Geoff Barrow crafted here. The phrase “trip-hop” quickly came to be loathed by all those who had become thus dubbed, but I have to admit, it sort of described the vibes better than anything else we’ve come up with since…

Witchcraft

from the LP Wolfmother, Island Records, 2006



Before I had even heard them play I felt overly assured that Wolfmother was gonna be a wonderfully heavy mess---it was their name that gave it away; I mean, if you’re going to name yourself something like “Wolfmother”, you had better fucking rock! Admittedly, there isn’t a single note of new ground being broke herein, but there’s something about the eager energy with which they lay shameless waste to their ‘70s stoner rock heroes that you have to love; frankly, compared the other emo-esque CRAP that was clogging up the airwaves back when this dropped, it damn well shined…yes, I realize that’s cutting Wolfmother’s shortcomings a lot of slack, but this younger generation has got to start somewhere, right?! Singer & guitarist Andrew Stockdale sounds something like a cross between Robert Plant, Geddy Lee and Ozzy, which is totally appropriate for the THC-laden, sludgy riffage that ensues throughout the LP; take it all with a grain of salt, but don’t have that pole wedged so deep in your ass that you can’t enjoy the power here, dig?

Anti Love Song

from the LP Betty Davis, Just Sunshine Records, 1973



Becoming the lover and wife of jazz icon Miles Davis must have been an altogether surreal experience for a girl who had been raised on a hog farm in North Carolina, but as average as chores on a farm might be, there was never anything “average” about Betty Davis (née Mabry); in a recent interview, the only one she’s given in over 30 years, Ms. Davis explained that, off-stage, she is actually a very shy individual---a fact which makes her larger than life performances even more remarkable. The players supporting her on this release were quite the progressive assemblage of Bay area musicians: bassist Larry Graham and drummer Greg Errico from the Family Stone, guitarist Neil Schon from Santana, & none other than Merl Saunders on the electric piano; however, it is Betty herself that keeps me coming back for more, “…I know you could posses my body, I know you could make me scrawl, I know you could have me shakin’, I know you could have me climbing walls…that’s why I don’t wanna love you…”

Mini Pads

from the LP Sophisticated Funk, Chess Records, 1976



I’ve always wondered whether or not an artist would prefer the accolades of critics and fellow artists as opposed to the huddled masses, basking in the glory of those who know rather than those who are now; I suppose ideally you’d want them both, but I also have to imagine that all the street-cred in the world may still leave one lusting after a little notoriety. ‘Brother’ Jack McDuff isn’t a name you commonly hear discussed amongst casual jazz fans, but those in the know are, most probably, already followers. McDuff’s legacy of modal and post-bop insanity speaks for itself, and much has been written about it, so I decided upon one of his more transitional albums from the mid ‘70s---and I’ll give you one guess as to why…this album cover undoubtedly wins my award for the most creative use of a chastity belt on an LP. A propulsive & frenzied number, this track sees Brother McDuff vamping pretty damn hard on a clavinet and two electric pianos, layered and processed a bit, and driven along by an army of percussion and “ahh ahh ahh’s”, presumably from some gorgeous Nubian princess that was slinking around the studio that day, perhaps our model from the cover; I like to think so anyways.

Promise

from the LP Violent Femmes, Slash Records, 1982



Most people my age have a deep & tender sweet-spot in their hearts reserved for this mighty trio, the Violent Femmes, endeared to us at such a cavernous level thanks to the veritable montage of life’s memories we have wrapped up in their songs; you remember, those carefree juvenile days of cheap wine & roses, shwag weed & crap beer, hits of weak blotter, often climaxing with a circle of friends all yelling the lyrics to any number of classics from this album, inebriated arms slung over one another’s backs in a post-modern tribal expression of clueless release…all hail the reckless Western rite of adolescence! The Femmes came together around Milwaukee, which I suppose explains the accents that most of us in Florida wrongly presumed meant they were from Canada, especially when matched with their odd style; the Pretenders discovered them busking outside the venue they were playing in ’81 and offered them a short intro set. The rest, as “they” say, is history.

Submarines

from the LP The Golden Age of Wireless, Harvest Records, 1982



It’s currently snowing like a son of a bitch outside, which always tends to steer my head into darkwave or new wave territory, the steely synthesizers and Cold War themes transforming the greyish white precipitation into a mock nuclear winter; this particular number tells the tale of a Soviet submarine attempting to defect, “…one more night, the Winter Boys are freezing in their spam tin; the Baltic moon, along the northern seaboard, and down below the Winter Boys are waiting for the storm….bye bye empire, empire bye bye; shallow water, channel and tide….one of our submarines is missing tonight, seems she ran aground on manoeuveres, one of our submarines…” Thomas Dolby is mostly remembered for his quirky hit “She Blinded Me With Science”, but his session work on the keys is just as impressive, as he can be heard playing on Def Leppard’s Pyromania, the Thompson Twins’ Set, and more comically, on Foreigner’s butt-rockin’ anthem “Urgent”. I prefer his solo work, where he was able to focus on the more electronic side of his nature, as is evidenced in this track, full of cracks, blips & beeps to help lead those Winter Boys to safety; thanks to Shannie for this one.

Shadows of the Night

from the 12” single, Injection Disco Dance Label, 1985



Originally a fairly generic white-boy funk band, by the time of this release in the mid ‘80s Blue Feather had merged their funky grooves with some of the prevailing new wave trends of that time, creating a moody stew that stands up pretty damn well; I was surprised to learn that they were from the Netherlands, not exactly a country well known for smooth boogie tunes. “I am haunted by the shadows of the night…do you feel my heartbeat, feel my heartbeat?”, sounds like maybe they were indulging in too much blow, ‘cause that’s when the shadow people used to show up, after a couple days with no sleep…sorry, but listening to ‘80s tracks while it’s snowing outside can’t help but make me think of cocaine.

A Sprinkling of Clouds

from the LP You, Virgin Records, 1974



If there was a lifetime achievement award given to the most psychedelically altered band ever, the intergalactic teapot of so-called “pothead pixies” we know as Gong would surely be among the front runners, giving lysergic swimming pools like Hawkwind and the Grateful Dead a genuine run for their money. Formed around the time of the 1968 student revolution in France, Gong was ultimately the idea of Aussie ex-pat Daevid Allen & his then girlfriend and British ex-pat, Gilli Smyth; they were forced to flee during the riots, & wound up encamped on the Balearic island of Mallorca, finding other hippie musicians (they apparently discovered saxophonist Didier Malherbe living in a cave there…) while ingesting copious amounts of hashish and mushrooms--- it was during those months spent out of his mind that Allen created all the mythology that would follow Gong until his departure. This is actually the last Gong release he appeared on, and his influence here had been much diminished, the band replacing his tongue-in-cheek humor with a greater emphasis on synthesizers & spacey atmospherics; no worries though, the music is just as incredible as ever, slowly building steam until around five & a half minutes in when the train goes completely off the tracks, into a wormhole that projects you into a parallel universe, for a moment…no, really. Don’t believe me? Grab your bong and your headphones, then tell me otherwise!