This week's edition of 10 Songs draws exclusively from the playlist for This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio # 1022.
BADFINGER: Baby Blue
My favorite song on the radio in the '70s, possibly my favorite radio song of all time. Badfinger's "Baby Blue" was the very first song written up for my series The Greatest Record Ever Made!, which celebrates the durable notion that an infinite number of songs can each be THE greatest record ever made, as long as they take turns. As I move forward with my intent to turn this notion into a big book called The Greatest Record Ever Made! (Volume 1), that Badfinger entry follows an Overture of The Ramones' "Do You Remember Rock 'n' Roll Radio?" to get the party started. I really, really love this song.
THE BEATLES: I Should Have Known Better
One weekend when I was in high school (probably in '76- '77, my senior year), one of the NYC TV stations we received via cable in suburban North Syracuse played The Beatles' 1964 movie A Hard Day's Night. I don't remember how many times I had already seen it by that point. Four-year-old me saw it at The North Drive-In in Cicero during its first run, I saw it at least once on TV, on the night of the 1968 presidential election, and probably another time or two after that. I may have also seen it at The Hollywood Theatre in Mattydale at some '70s matinee; I know I saw Let It Be and Magical Mystery Tour on a Hollywood double bill, so it's plausible that A Hard Day's Night played there too, maybe with Yellow Submarine? I don't know. (I do know that I had only seen their 1965 movie Help! on TV. I think. Or maybe it was Help! instead of Yellow Submarine on a double bill with A Hard Day's Night at the Hollywood. I should have kept better notes as a teenager.)
Anyway, my point is that I had certainly seen A Hard Day's Night a few times prior to its screening on WPIX or WOR or WNEW or whatever on that Saturday night in the late '70s. I'm pretty sure I already regarded it as my all-time favorite movie, edging past Duck Soup and What's Up, Doc? and Batman and any of my other most cherished cinematic treasures when I was in my teens. I'd inherited a copy of the film's paperback novelization when my sister moved out, allowing me to re-live A Hard Day's Night at will, even in those days before home video became commonplace. I loved the film without reservation, and was delighted with the opportunity to see it again.
I watched the movie at home, alone. As it ran, right after the scene where the Fab Four sing "I Should Have Known Better" to Paul McCartney's very clean grandfather and some girls (including George Harrison's future wife Patti Boyd) in the train's luggage compartment, my phone rang. It was my friend Tom, also watching the movie (possibly for the first time) over at his house. That song, he said. Do you have it? I replied in the affirmative, and he said, I'm borrowing it, and hung up. Back to the movie. On Monday, I brought my family copy of the film's soundtrack LP to school for Tom to borrow, and he returned it to me shortly thereafter, presumably having now added it to his cassette library.
All these decades later, "I Should Have Known Better" is one of a few songs that still immediately bring Tom to my mind. It's a good memory, even given its tragic aftermath. I've written many times of how Tom's suicide in 1979 devastated me, haunted me, and I don't intend to use a title like "I Should Have Known Better" as a rueful commentary on that. No. I hang on to the good memories, too.
And it is a good memory: a memory of watching my favorite movie, and a memory of its connection to one of my best friends. It's a good thing, a great thing, in spite of all that came afterward. Should I have known better? That's not for me to say.
COTTON MATHER: The Book Of Too Late Changes
Cotton Mather has been a TIRnRR Fave Rave for nearly as long as there has been a TIRnRR. Our show made its debut on December 27th 1998, and we played "Homefront Cameo" from Cotton Mather's 1997 album Kontiki three weeks later on our 1/17/99 show (my 39th birthday). "My Before And After" from Kontiki became a top favorite during our first year on the air, and it remains one of our all-time most-played tracks. "Payday," from Cotton Mather's 1994 album Cotton Is King, also received significant TIRnRR airplay over the years, and we've loved and played a number of other Cotton Mather tracks over the course of our...my God, we've done 1022 shows...? What?! Man, that explains why I'm not 39 years old anymore!
Through it all, "My Before And After" has been our defining, go-to Cotton Mather track, with "Payday" serving ably in its role as stalwart understudy, with a number of other worthies from "Ivanhoe" to "Better Than A Hit" always poised at the ready. And I guess it borders on heresy to suggest now that "The Book Of Too Late Changes" (from their 2016 album Death Of The Cool) has become my favorite Cotton Mather track. "The Book Of Too Late Changes" is just...everything, an over-the-top pop assault, with drumming that channels Keith Moon and a vocal tag that evokes classical influences while remaining wholly, unerringly rooted in classic, hyperbolic AM radio oomph. Heresy be damned. I am as Cotton Mather made me.
RICH FIRESTONE: If The Sun Doesn't Shine
Rich Firestone and his wife Kathy Firestone (collectively aka Reechie and Frodis) are among my longest-standing online pals. Our cyber-paths first crossed in the early '90s on Prodigy, probably on a board devoted to The Monkees. They've been good friends and dedicated supporters of This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio with Dana & Carl. We're proud to spin Reechie's solo debut, a cover of The Smithereens' "If The Sun Doesn't Shine," taken from The TM Collective's salute to The Smithereens' Green Thoughts album.
Rich is, of course, a long-time fan of The Smithereens; his heartfelt eulogy for the group's late frontman Pat DiNizio is one of this blog's most-read pieces, and the connection he and Kathy had with them forms the core of the Smithereens chapter in my book. If Rich's solo debut wasn't gonna be a Monkees song, it made perfect sense that it would be a Smithereens song.
(I say solo debut, because TIRnRR has indeed played Rich before, in other incarnations. Rich sings back-up on "I Could Be Good For You" by Steve Stoeckel and his This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio All-Stars on This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio, Volume 3, and he's one of the lead vocal participants in TIR'N'RR Allstars' "Waterloo Sunset" on Waterloo Sunset--Benefit For This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio (available on CD or as a download); "Waterloo Sunset" even has a video to prove its Reechie content. And Mr. Firestone was the lead singer of The Tweakers, a legendarily obscure combo whose obscure legend should begin any minute now, and whose sole released work was "Super Secret Mystery Track" on the expanded This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio, Volume 3. We played that track once on TIRnRR. I would tell you more about it, but then it wouldn't be a secret.)
And now, Rich Firestone takes the spotlight, covering a song from an album that meant an awful lot to him. He's backed up here by 3/4 of Pop Co-Op: Steve Stoeckel, Joel Tinnel, and Stacy Carson, with keyboard work by Alex Tinnel. (The fourth member of Pop Co-Op, Bruce Gordon, was unavailable when the track was recorded, busy in Gotham City helping Batman thwart another evil plan by the insidious Eclipso. A grateful world thanks Bruce for his service.)
And Reechie? Reechie shines, man. More please, Reechie. More.
THE ISLEY BROTHERS: It's Your Thing
There seem to be at least three distinct, separate periods in The Isley Brothers' recording career (more if you wanna split up the period from 1969 on). There was their classic early period commencing just before the dawn of the 1960s, influencing The Beatles with "Shout" and "Twist And Shout." There was their Tamla-Motown period circa '66-'67, which yielded the hit "This Old Heart Of Mine (Is Weak For You)" and the shoulda-been hit "Got To Have You Back." And there was the period beginning in 1969, when The Isley Brothers started releasing work on their own label, T-Neck Records. "It's Your Thing" was the group's first hit on T-Neck.
"It's Your Thing" doesn't sound materially different from The Isleys' Tamla output, containing just the merest hint of some funkier underpinnings to follow in the '70s. But it was the start of something big. With their own label, The Isley Brothers had their thing, and did what they wanted to to do.
THE KINKS: See My Friends
I'm not 100% sure where I first heard The Kinks' 1965 single "See My Friends." I initially knew "See My Friends" from the great British group The Records, who included their version in an all-covers EP that came with the purchase of The Records' debut LP in 1979. My first exposure to The Kinks' original must have been Golden Hour Of The Kinks, a 1977 compilation I picked up as a budget cassette release in the mid '80s. With the possible exception of my bootleg live Flashcubes tape, Golden Hour Of The Kinks was my favorite cassette, even more so than the (then-) contemporary garage sampler Garage Sale. I listened to Golden Hour Of The Kinks over and over on the boom box my Uncle Carl gave Brenda and I as a wedding gift in 1984, with only a couple of Beatles tapes (Help! and Beatles For Sale) challenging its boom-box sovereignty. Golden Hour Of The Kinks hooked me on "Animal Farm," reinforced my adoration of "Days," "Dedicated Follower Of Fashion," "Till The End Of The Day," "Waterloo Sunset," "Dead End Street," "Shangri-La," and "You Really Got Me," and it introduced me to the original "See My Friends." Best cassette ever? A contender at the very least.
KISS: Shout It Out Loud
Another fond memory of my friend Tom is going to see KISS in 1976, my first rock concert. And yeah, "Shout It Out Loud" merits a chapter in The Greatest Record Ever Made! (Volume 1).
JUSTINE'S BLACK THREADS: Needles And Pins
"Vengeance" by Justine and the Unclean knocks me out, so we played it last week and again this week, and it was featured in last week's 10 Songs. A perfectly-clean Justine Covault also fronts Justine's Black Threads, whose debut album Cheap Vacation is due in June from Rum Bar Records. Their cover of "Needles And Pins" is available right now, a lovely alt-country take on this classic, a version that would make Jackie DeShannon, The Searchers, and The Ramones all say, "AWRIGHT!" I say it, too.
LED ZEPPELIN: Communication Breakdown
I've never had quite the level of interest in Led Zeppelin as many of my peers. I don't think I ever actually disliked them, and I have occasionally cranked something from my modest Led Zep collection with the vim and vigor of those about to have their lemons squeezed. I don't listen to them often, but I do listen, and I do dig. As my book's chapter on "Communication Breakdown" explains:
I was never much of a Led Zeppelin fan; they were just there, everywhere, like inflation or TV sitcoms or halter tops, symptoms of my 1970s. (I was, incidentally, in favor of halter tops.) In the days of my youth, there were good Led Zep times, and there were bad Led Zep times. Sometimes I liked them, sometimes I didn't. And some times I thought there okay, but that I just really didn't need to hear them anymore. Good times, bad times, I know I had my share.
It's not a band's fault when their music gets overplayed. I can't imagine ever getting sick of The Beatles, but I do sort of comprehend the feeling of those who hear "Yeah Yeah Yeah!" and answer "No! No! NO!!!" I don't have much affinity for most of the tracks favored by classic rock radio formats; I wonder if I would have retained a greater appreciation of the music of Led Zeppelin, The Doors, Pink Floyd, or later Rolling Stones (each of whom I do like to some degree) or even Lynyrd Skynrd or The Eagles (whom I generally do not) if they were all obscurities I discovered in the vinyl underground, rather than ubiquitous fixtures on every stereo except mine.
But I like 'em when I like 'em. And I like "Communication Breakdown" a lot.
MARYKATE O'NEIL: I'm Ready For My Luck To Turn Around
Yeah, we've been playing this one a few times lately. Terrific track co-written by Marykate O'Neil and Jill Sobule, and an appropriate sentiment for the current landscape. On Monday morning I added the song to my Greatest Record Ever Made! book. It occupies a climactic spot near the book's end, nestled naturally between Stevie Wonder's "I Believe (When I Fall In Love It Will Be Forever)" and Eytan Mirsky's "This Year Will Be Our Year." Belief feeds hope. If you're ready.
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This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio with Dana & Carl airs Sunday nights from 9 to Midnight Eastern, on the air in Syracuse at SPARK! WSPJ 103.3 and 93.7 FM, and on the web at http://sparksyracuse.org/ You can read about our history here.
The many fine This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio compilation albums are still available, each full of that rockin' pop sound you crave. A portion of all sales benefit our perpetually cash-strapped community radio project:
Volume 1: download
Volume 3: download
Waterloo Sunset--Benefit For This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio: CD or download
Carl's writin' a book! The Greatest Record Ever Made! (Volume 1) will contain 134 essays about 134 tracks, each one of 'em THE greatest record ever made. An infinite number of records can each be the greatest record ever made, as long as they take turns. Updated initial information can be seen here: THE GREATEST RECORD EVER MADE! (Volume 1).
Carl's writin' a book! The Greatest Record Ever Made! (Volume 1) will contain 134 essays about 134 tracks, each one of 'em THE greatest record ever made. An infinite number of records can each be the greatest record ever made, as long as they take turns. Updated initial information can be seen here: THE GREATEST RECORD EVER MADE! (Volume 1).
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