Tuesday, September 15, 2020

10 SONGS: 9/15/2020

10 Songs is a weekly list of ten songs that happen to be on my mind at the moment. Given my intention to usually write these on Mondays, the lists are often dominated by songs played on the previous night's edition of This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio with Dana & Carl. The idea was inspired by Don Valentine of the essential blog I Don't Hear A Single.
Chuck Berry, Teri Garr, The T.A.M.I. Show
This week's edition of 10 Songs draws exclusively from the playlist for This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio # 1042.

THE BEACH BOYS: God Only Knows



My book The Greatest Record Ever Made! (Volume 1) is dedicated to the idea that an infinite number of songs can each be THE greatest record ever made, as long as they take turns. It's about individual songs, not albums, but its chapter celebrating the grandeur of The Beach Boys' "God Only Knows" also pays proper tribute to the greatest album ever made, Pet Sounds:

Ambivalence and certainty can sometimes go hand in hand. It's incongruous, a paradox, but it's true in the sublime case of "God Only Knows." The track is emblematic of the classic album that gave it life: Brian Wilson's 1966 masterpiece Pet Sounds.

Pet Sounds is pop music's greatest contradiction: fragile but indestructible, delicate but strong, frail but immortal. Gossamer and granite. It is a wisp of emotion, heartbreak, love, and hope, a precarious house of cards that will still stand long after we're all dust. It is pop, and it is art, but it is not pop art. It is mature, and it as giddy as a teenager in love with the unattainable...


..."God Only Knows" is the most beautiful song that has ever graced our human experience. It is as close to the divine as our mortal ears can receive and relay, as near to celestial presence as man or woman could ever imagine while still tethered to this physical realm. Its music lifts us even as its lyrics remind us of the limits to our flawed perception, our finite grasp, but reinforces our faith all the same....

CHUCK BERRY: Nadine (Is It You?)



TCM ran the 1964 concert flick The T.A.M.I. Show as one of its Labor Day weekend offerings this year. The fact that I have the film on Blu-ray and have already seen it many times over the years didn't stop me from recording it on my DVR to watch again. It's my favorite concert film, and it has no real competition for that title.



Following the opening montage and introduction by emcees Jan & Dean, the first live performer to appear in The T.A.M.I. Show is the one and only Chuck Berry. And he kinda gets short shrift, having to share his time with the British Invasion, embodied in this spot by Gerry and the Pacemakers. The Pacemakers are fine, and that's not meant as faint praise at all. But he's Chuck Berry, and even with his limited screen time, he shines.

Teri Garr dancing to The Supremes on The T.A.M.I. Show
(A then-unknown Teri Garr also shines as one of the dancers in The T.A.M.I. Show. I didn't know her until falling in love with her on a Star Trek rerun. Man, she was cute.)




BLUE ÖYSTER CULT: This Ain't The Summer Of Love



I've written many times about my friend Tom, who killed himself in 1979. The other day, the random thought occurred to me that, if he had lived, Tom and I probably would have parted company somewhere along the line. It was an unsettling, sobering thought. As much as we had been friends, our paths were already starting to diverge when he carried out that final act. He is frozen at a point in time when we were friends. It's been more than forty years, and the memory still aches. Losing a friend is difficult. Losing a friend to suicide leaves a wound that never quite goes away. That mental scar inevitably dominates my recollection of a former friend. 

There are specific songs that always remind me of Tom, songs I first heard when Tom played them. Both David Bowie's "All The Madmen" and The Runaways' cover of The Velvet Underground's "Rock And Roll" are superglued to Tom's memory. And that is likewise true of "This Ain't The Summer Of Love," a track from Blue Öyster Cult's 1976 album Agents Of Fortune. I only knew the band from radio play of "(Don't Fear) The Reaper," but Tom had the LP, and played it for me. Tom was particularly fond of "This Ain't The Summer Of Love," and his enthusiasm was infectious. 

In a previous 10 Songs, I wrote: BÖC's best-known tracks are "Don't Fear The Reaper" and (later on) "Burnin' For You," with maybe an honorable mention for "Godzilla." My favorite remains "This Ain't The Summer Of Love," a lean and efficient LP track from Agents Of Fortune (the album that gave us "Don't Fear The Reaper"). I learned of the song through my doomed high school pal Tom, prompting me to purchase my own battered, used copy of the album in time for college. During my freshman year, Side One of Agents Of Fortune was as much a go-to slab of vinyl as my Sex Pistols and Monkees records, and "This Ain't The Summer Of Love" in particular fit well alongside my steady diet of RamonesTelevisionJam, and Dave Clark Five.

For me, 1979 was the summer of love. I had met Brenda the preceding fall, and we were getting increasingly serious about committing our hearts to each other. She was with me the night I saw Tom for the last time, and she was with me the next morning when a phone call delivered the news of his death. She tried to comfort as best she could. It was a summer of love, no matter what a song said. It was also a summer marked by the start of a lingering sadness that's not ever going to go away. Friendships end. That's the nature of all things in this physical world. 

Friendships shouldn't end like that one did.

SHAUN CASSIDY: So Sad About Us



'70s teen idol Shaun Cassidy's 1980 album Wasp was, I guess, his attempt to transition from that aforementioned teen idol gig into something more serious and mature. Before he attempted that move, he recorded some pop material that is very much underrated; I can do without his covers of The Crystals and The Lovin' Spoonful, but his Eric Carmen-penned hits "That's Rock 'n' Roll" and "Hey Deanie" are simply stellar, and his own composition "Teen Dream" mines a similar vein with giddily successful results. The Flashcubes used to cover "Hey Deanie" (albeit a charged-up read of Carmen's version rather than Cassidy's), and 'Cubes bassist Gary Frenay wrote a song called "Boy Scout Pinup," about a girl's Shaun Cassidy and her wish that it would come to life and do serious, mature things with her. But I digress.

For dramatic purposes, the parts of boy scout pinup Cassidy and his fantasizing fan shall be played by Micky Dolenz and Teri Garr respectively
Cassidy's overt pop (even power pop) was the stuff of his first two albums, Shaun Cassidy and Born Late, both issued in 1977. 1978's Under Wraps was an attempted step toward leaving that behind. Being (or trying to sound) grown-up isn't necessarily a good thing, though Under Wraps does include Cassidy's capable take on Brian Wilson's "It's Like Heaven"). It was not as big a hit as Cassidy's previous records. 1979's Shaun Cassidy Live was his farewell to the screamin' girls and boy-scout pinup stardom. It didn't sell. 

So, for fifth and final album Wasp, Cassidy enlisted Todd Rundgren to produce something edgier, something new wave. It was a ballsy move; some thought it desperate, I suppose, but it seems sincere. Wasp includes three songs written by Rundgren, and a fourth written by Rundgren, Cassidy, Roger Powell, and John Wilcox. The rest of the album is filled with covers of songs by David Bowie, Talking Heads, The Four Tops, The Animals, The Who, and Ian Hunter

I didn't like it much at the time, but I haven't listened to it in...gosh, it's been ages. I still have it, and I need to give it a fresh spin. I do recall cringing at the version of Hunter's "Once Bitten, Twice Shy" on Wasp, but Cassidy's cover of The Who's "So Sad About Us" is pretty good, and well worth a slot on the radio.

CHICAGO: Feelin' Stronger Every Day



Chicago's music was certainly a fixture of my prime AM radio-listening days in the '70s. I grew to actively dislike the group in the '80s. I don't remember whether or not that dislike prompted me to forsake the older stuff in an unwise disposal of baby and bath water; if so, I've since regained my earlier affection for "Saturday In The Park." And I can't imagine how I could have ever turned away from "Feelin' Stronger Every Day," a dynamic track that's as rich and invigorating as pop music oughtta be. I like "Saturday In The Park;" I love "Feelin' Stronger Every Day." 

(And I'm bummed that when I saw the 21st century version of Chicago just a few years ago, they did only an abbreviated rendition of "Feelin' Stronger Every Day." Oh, but sure, they had plenty of time for all those '80s hits. Yechh.)

THE DAHLMANNS: Shake Me Up Tonight


The Dahlmanns! Man, this song rocks, and we haven't played it in far, far too long. I received a note from Lindsay Hutton of the venerable rockin' fanzine The Next Big Thing, mentioning some vinyl releases he'd done of this fab Norwegian combo. That mention was enough to send me scurryin' to pull out the group's 2011 All Dahled Up CD and return "Shake Me Up Tonight" to the airwaves. Where it belongs! More Dahlmanns in future weeks. 

JOEY MOLLAND: You Make Me Sick



We're looking forward to former Badfinger guitarist Joey Molland's new album Be True To Yourself, which is due out in October, and which features support from the likes of Micky Dolenz, Julian Lennon, Mark Hudson, and more. While we're waiting, Dana programmed this antiwar track from Molland's 1992 album The Pilgrim for our listening pleasure. I reviewed The Pilgrim for Goldmine when it was released, but I hadn't heard the song in years. It holds up, and I'm eager to hear Joey's new stuff.

THE REVELATIONS: Why When Love Has Gone



I come back to this statement time and time again: any record you ain't heard is a new record. I don't think I had even heard of The Revelations until a few weeks ago, when intrepid TIRnRR listener Dave Murray recommended I treat myself to a spin of their 2014 cover of The Isley Brothers' "Why When Love Is Gone." Six years old, but a new record to me. Make that a great new record to me, as The Revelations ace the difficult task of doing an Isleys song even better than the Isleys did it. 

THE SMALL FACES: You Need Lovin'

Willie Dixon wrote "You Need Love" for Muddy Waters. The Small Faces appropriated it for their own "You Need Lovin'." Led Zeppelin appropriated "You Need Lovin'" for their own "Whole Lotta Love." The Small Faces were fantastic and influential, but not really a superstar mega-selling record company cash cow. Led Zeppelin, on the other hand...well, let's just say that Willie Dixon knew which act it made more financial sense to sue. Dixon and Zep settled out of court in 1987.
Oh, go squeeze your own lemon.
THE VELVELETTES: He Was Really Sayin' Somethin'



In 1982, the combined forces of Bananarama and Fun Boy Three introduced me to the song "Really Saying Something," a bubbly girl-group number that was immediately catchy and radio-ready. I don't remember when I found out it was a cover of a 1965 Motown single, nor when I finally heard that original version by The Velvelettes. Those British chicks and fellows did a fine job with their cover; The Velvelettes blow 'em away. And that's sayin' somethin'.




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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.


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Carl's writin' a book! The Greatest Record Ever Made! (Volume 1)will contain 165 essays about 165 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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