Showing posts with label Matthew Sweet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Matthew Sweet. Show all posts

Friday, November 13, 2020

POPTOPIA! Power Pop Classics Of The '90s

In 1997, I was hired by Rhino Records for a freelance assignment to write liner notes for a compilation CD called Poptopia! Power Pop Classics Of The '90s. It was one of three decade-specific pop collections released simultaneously. Jordan Oakes wrote liners for the '70s disc, John M. Borack wrote for the '80s disc, and Ken Sharp provided editorial supervision for the lot of them. Jordan, John, and Ken are pretty good company to keep, and I'm proud to have been associated with this project.

I wish I still had my original manuscript for the liner notes; at Rhino's request, the original included additional paragraphs discussing a few other acts the label had in mind to include on the CD, acts that Rhino was either unable to license or chose to omit. Here is my essay as it was published in the CD booklet.

The 1990s are the best of times to be a power pop fan. 

Oh, you can scoff if you wish, but the evidence is incontrovertible. Aside from the plethora of classic pop reissues available now in greater abundance than ever before, the '90s have seen a veritable explosion of worthy acts working within the broad context of pure pop and power pop, vying for your heart, mind and wallet with unabashed hooks and harmonies, and a killer instinct that'll go for your throat if your heart won't answer.

Power pop, that increasingly generic catchphrase for melodic rock 'n' roll, has shed some of its excess baggage over the years. For one thing, the retro elements are far more subdued: you don't see a lot of skinny ties or mohair suits on pop bands nowadays. For another, pop is at long last starting to escape from its cult ghetto. Billboard did a report in '95 about power pop's apparent resurgence, and Tony Perkins' annual Poptopia! festival in L.A. promises to raise pop's profile even more. And, while massive pop mania remains an unlikely prospect, the upshot is that more cool bands are forming and playing, and more cool records are being made.

A lot more cool records are being made. While previous volumes in the Poptopia! series have the advantage of historical perspective, we're still right in the thick of things when it comes to '90s power pop. There's a desire to present as much of what's going on as space permits. But space simply won't permit a proper cross section of current successful pop acts, along with the lesser-known pop acts toiling in underserved anonymity. There are dozens upon dozens of worthy tracks, but this CD will only hold 18 of 'em.

So an attempt was made to balance the big names with the relative obscurities. Choices were made--some due to circumstances beyond Rhino's control (and pocketbook)--but it's hoped that the result offers a fair representation of what the pop scene sounds like in this last decade of the 20th century. It sounds pretty damned good to me, and if it's possible for you to listen to this in your car at full-throttle, well then, you've got the right idea.

Matthew Sweet has come a long way since we first heard of him in 1983, as a member of Oh-OK, the nearly forgotten Athens, GA band then principally known because one of the members was Michael Stipe's sister. Sweet put all of that behind him with his third album, 1991's Girlfriend, an engaging pop tour de force propelled by the guitar work of Richard Lloyd and Robert Quine (formerly of Television and Richard Hell and the Voidoids, respectively). The title track and "I've Been Waiting" are the kind of lush pop tunes you wanna hear over and over again.

If a bunch of informed pop pundits were to vote on the definitive pop albums of the '90s, one that is certain to appear on a majority of ballots would be Bellybutton, the 1990 debut from Jellyfish. They were an almost defiantly pop act, wallowing in trashy retro chic, but delivering the goods with unparalleled panache on wax. Bellybutton is loaded with willful cops from the Beatles/Beach Boys bag o' tricks, notably on the MTV faves "The King Is Half-Undressed" and "Baby's Coming Back," and on "That Is Why," the album's most brazenly Beatlesque tune. After a line-up change, Jellyfish recorded one more album, 1993's Spilt Milk, before ceasing to exist.

Q magazine described the music of Ride as "the missing link between The Monkees and Jesus And Mary Chain." This Oxford, England foursome evolved over a series of records for Sire, but embraced the pop ideal for one album only, 1992's Going Blank Again. The highlight of Going Blank Again is "Twisterella," a swirling, head-spinning popfest. Following this beguiling taste of a perfect single, Ride immediately forgot about pop entirely and rode into the sunset in 1995.

Gigolo Aunts started out as a relatively low-key power pop combo, as demonstrated by a quick spin of 1988's Everybody Happy, an overlooked but ace exercise in a-boppin' and a-poppin'. Since then, the Aunts cranked up the amps and raised the grunge quotient just a touch for 1994's Flippin' Out. "Cope" is an interesting illustration of the group's hard pop dichotomy at its best: even as they start to swagger in prototypical college-radio fashion, just when you think you've got the song pegged as an agreeable but standard alterna-rocker, that chorus comes outta nowhere to imbed its whale-size hooks into your soul.

It's unfair (and technically inaccurate), but history may wind up remembering The Rembrandts as mere one-hit wonders for "I'll Be There For You," their phenomenally popular theme song for the TV sitcom Friends. The duo of Danny Wilde and Phil Solem has been revered for their irresistible pop savvy ever since their days in the early '80s pop band Great Buildings. As The Rembrandts, they've released three albums of luxurious, melodic pop cast in the image of The Everly Brothers, and had a # 14 hit in 1991 with "Just The Way It Is, Baby." "Rollin' Down The Hill" is from their second album, 1992's Untitled, and it provides a perfect encapsulation of The Rembrandts' inviting, understated sound.

One of the more obscure acts on this compilation, The Tearaways evolved from a Santa Monica pop band called The Volcanos, and their simply awesome 1993 debut See The Sound (produced by 20/20-Three O'Clock veteran Earle Mankey) reveals a band eminently worthy of the widest possible attention. "Jessica Something" is but one of many alluring tracks on that debut, an album that all pop fans should immediately seek out with eager dispatch. While a touch less immediate than See The Sound, 1996's De La Vina nonetheless serves further notice that we should be keeping an eye and ear on these Tearaways.

With a glorious vocal blend that calls to mind the magnificence of The Hollies, The Posies have proven there's more to Seattle music than grunge and more grunge. While Posies Ken Stringfellow and Jon Auer's stint as members of the '90s touring version of Big Star is an impressive résumé item, it's still just a footnote to The Posies' own accomplishments. Though fans are divided over the merits of the group's early, smoother pop albums (1988's Failure and 1990's Dear 23) and the sharper edge added to 1993's Frosting On The Beater and 1996's Amazing Disgrace, Frosting On The Beater seems to be the most popular Posies work. "Solar Sister" is a proud representative of that long-player, its edge still sharp but its shiny pop sheen undiminished.

"If I had the Wondermints back in 1967, I would have taken Smile out on the road." What kind of band must Wondermints be to inspire such an unbelievably cool benediction from Brian Wilson--Brian friggin' Wilson!--pop's most holy patron saint himself? The Wondermints are probably the most acclaimed of all the acts in L.A.'s burgeoning power pop scene. The group's accomplished and avowedly pop approach, which combines tantalizing hints of every band you loved on AM radio in the '60s with a touch of early '80s new wave, was first released on a series of indie cassettes, and on their first 45, the superb, haunting "Proto-Pretty." This all-American group had to go all the way to Japan to get a record deal, though New York City's Big Deal label came through with a domestic release in late '96.

The Lemonheads have evolved from a nondescript posthardcore outfit into an engaging pop conglomeration centered around singer/guitarist Evan Dando. The group first founds its audience via a smirking cover of Simon & Garfunkel's "Mrs. Robinson" on 1992's It's A Shame About Ray. Come On Feel The Lemonheads (1993) gave us the juicy, jangly "Into Your Arms" and secured The Lemonheads' position as alternative-pop superstars. And, lest it be forgotten that a certain measure of Tiger Beat-style idolatry should be part and parcel of genuine pop mania, then you've gotta concede that Dando's good looks certainly didn't hurt the group's commercial prospects. (Though if one more joker refers to Dando as an "alterna-hunk," I'll personally swat said joker with a rolled-up Shaun Cassidy poster.)

Back when '70s nostalgia seemed ludicrous, brothers Jeffrey and Steven McDonald set about transforming their punkish combo Redd Kross into an aggressive post-punk pop band that seemed to draw equal inspiration from KISS and The Bay City Rollers. The McDonalds even appeared in 1991's '70s-revival flick The Spirit Of '76 with David Cassidy! Today, Redd Kross is rightly recognized as a potent pop powerhouse, capable of making little girls swoon on the one hand and raisin' the motherlovin' roof on the other. Both elements are displayed in "Lady In The Front Row," a souring treatise on rock 'n' roll stardom and fandom (from the group's ace 1993 Phaseshifter album), a track which cordially invites you to sway with cigarette lighter held high.

Both members of Jellyfish, albeit at different times, Jason Falkner and Jon Brion finally got to be in a band together when they formed The Grays, an act with a decidedly harder edge than that of the lads' goofier alma mater. The Grays' 1994 Ro Sham Bo album may have been a touch too heavy for some Jellyfish devotees, but tracks like "Same Thing," emblematic of the group's sound, did find an audience among more aggressive rockin' poppers.

The Rooks have become New York City's most notable pop act, beloved by the discerning few who know of the group's sublime work-- of singer/guitarist Michael Mazzarella's nonpareil pop originals and Kristin Pinell's shimmering guitar leads. "Reasons" was first heard on the band's debut album The Rooks, and it's distinguished by a drop-dead gorgeous chorus that will convince you the late Chris Bell and Gene Clark are harmonizing along from beyond this mortal coil. By the time you read this, The Rooks will have a new album out from the visionary Not Lame label.

The unfortunate fate of The Greenberry Woods offers a sobering reminder that even the best pop bands can still be resolutely ignored by the buying public. Maryland's favorite pop sons released two absolutely dreamy albums--1994's Rapple Dapple and 1995's Big Money Item--only to be met with appalling indifference by retail and radio. Following the group's apparent demise, a couple members resurfaced in a new group called Splitsville, and released an interesting, cartoony debut album on Big Deal in '96. But Splitsville ain't a proper substitute for The Greenberry Woods, whose passing we mourn here with a spin of their signature tune "Trampoline," an impossible-to-resist barrage of singalong charm and halcyon AM-pop style. Come back, guys!

On the more alternative side of pop, Velocity Girl offers a sound that Rolling Stone described as "haunting yet hummable noise pop." The group has done a whole passel o' records for Sub Pop, with "I Can't Stop Smiling" coming to us from 1994's ¡Simpatico! It may not be power pop in the traditional Beatles/Who/Beach Boys/Big Star sense, but it sure is catchy nonetheless.

With frank Big Star moves in its music and an album, 1994's Teenage Symphonies To God, named for Brian Wilson's long-ago description of his goals for The Beach Boys' aborted Smile LP, Velvet Crush makes no secret of its influences. This Rhode Island trio has made a name for itself as a confident purveyor of Big Star/Byrds janglepop while avoiding mere imitation. "Hold Me Up," from Teenage Symphonies To God, is the group's best-known track.

Vancouver pop band Zumpano plays an almost giddily pleasant pastiche of '60s pure pop, recalling scads of Turtles and Grass Roots 45s spun on the neighbor girl's Close-N-Play record machine. The incongruity of such a clean-sounding pop act recording for Sub Pop, a label that usually favors at least a bit more grit in its grooves, didn't stop 1995's Look What The Rookie Did from being a delightfully sugary confection, guaranteed to get your fingers to snappin' and your teeth to rottin'. "The Party Rages On" is a wonderfully cheery kiss-off, the nicest sounding hit-the-road-ya-crumb ditty to come down the pike in recent memory.

Chapel Hill, NC's native son Rick Miller, aka Rick Rock, is better known in pop circles as the one and only Parthenon Huxley--the name he used for his stunning 1988 album Sunny Nights--and as producer of records by E (today better known as front man of The Eels). Nowadays, singer/guitarist Huxley fronts a threesome called P. Hux, aided and abetted by bassist Rob Miller and drummer Gordon Townsend. P. Hux is resolutely rock-solid and proved it on Deluxe, a record proclaimed by readers of Audities magazine ("The Journal Of Insanely Great Pop") as the very best of '95. If "Every Minute" is your first dose of Huxley, then you've got some catching up to do.

Finally, The Idle Wilds bring the Big Star connection home, with a very nice debut album, 1995's Dumb, Gifted And Beautiful, released by erstwhile Big Star label Ardent (for which Jody Stephens still works as an A & R guy). For all that, The Idle Wilds take great care not to languish in the shadow of Chilton and Co., turning their amps to 11 and running through a bracing set of originals, like "You're All Forgiven," that acknowledges the past but lives in the present. What more could one ask from a power pop record?

And that rocks our little '90s power pop party to an appropriately exuberant close. This only scratches the surface of all the great pop that's been turned during this fabulous (make that fab) decade. Between big names like Gin Blossoms and Oasis, shoulda-been-bigger names like Material Issue (R.I.P., Jim Ellison), and countless other essential acts you may not know, or may be just barely aware of, the music need never stop.

So don't stop. This is pop with power--music to excite your soul, break your heart, and cause you to drive too fast. It's music best heard, in the words of the late Jim Ellison, with the radio up and the window down. So punch the pedal and crank it up. Feel free to sing along and pound on the steering wheel in whatever rhythmic fashion you can muster. If it's a tale of love lost, don't be afraid to cry. And if it's a power pop celebration, then let the thrills go unabridged. What a wonderful, wonderful time to be a pop fan.

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You can support this blog by becoming a patron on Patreon: Fund me, baby! 

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 2: CD or download
Volume 3: download
Volume 4: CD or 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 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).

Tuesday, August 11, 2020

10 SONGS: 8/11/2020

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.



This week's edition of 10 Songs draws exclusively from the playlist for This Is Rock 'n' Roll Radio # 1037.

AC/DC: Rock 'n' Roll Damnation


AC/DC! I've kinda liked them for decades, while never quite becoming a full-on fan. I own very little of their stuff, but I would snap up a decent best-of set if the band ever allows such a thing to exist. 

I first heard of AC/DC as a freshman in college, probably when I won a copy of their Hell Ain't A Bad Place To Be LP from the Brockport campus radio station WBSU in the fall of '77. It was one of a number of records I won from the station through call-in giveaways, all of which the station asked me to return. I had been interested in joining WBSU, and signed up to find out more about how I could make that happen. WBSU's president said that stated interest made me ineligible to keep my winnings. Pissed off by such after-the-fact hedging, I gave back the records and I angrily rescinded my application to the station. THAT'LL show 'em! Because of that, I wound up not doing any college radio at all.

I never got around to playing Hell Ain't A Bad Place To Be, so my actual introduction to AC/DC was on commercial album-rock radio. It might have been "Rock 'n' Roll Damnation" from Powerage, which I remember hearing alongside "Down Payment Blues" and possibly "It's A Long Way To The Top." As my fervor for punk rock grew, Syracuse new wave fanzine Poser reviewed Hell Ain't A Bad Place To Be and suggested making it more punk by speeding it up and re-titling "Problem Child" as "Problem Pinhead."



AC/DC remained a peripheral act for me. I loved "Highway To Hell," and later "You Shook Me All Night Long," the latter with new singer Brian Johnson replacing the late Bon Scott. I remember dancing with a girl at a nightclub as AC/DC boomed on its monolithic PA. I remember going to see a cover band play a Yuletime gig, and that group's singer coming out decked in full Santa Claus garb to perform "Highway To Hell" as "Sleigh Ride To Hell." And I remember calling a radio station during a pledge drive marathon on March 30th, 1981, when you could request a song in exchange for a donation. I happened to be in the mood for some AC/DC, but the DJ stopped me cold, saying, No. I'm not playing AC/DC. I don't care how much you pay. I'M NOT PLAYING AC/DC!!

And yeah, the station was WBSU. Lemme tell ya: things woulda been a little different there if I'd joined up. 

(To be fair, I should also note that the DJ apologized instantly for his seeming intransigence, explaining that he was exhausted from the marathon shift and really, really didn't wanna play AC/DC, We settled on a spin of The Ramones instead. So...upgrade! And it was during this same radio marathon that news broke of the attempted assassination of President Reagan. You can imagine the reaction of sleep-deprived student jocks having to read wire reports over the air with no warning or prep time. We're receiving breaking news that President Reagan has been shot...wait, WHAT? OH MY GOD, this is terrible! Is this for real...?!)

And it's a rock and roll damnation.

THE FOUR SEASONS: Walk Like A Man


I'm just old enough to remember hearing The Four Seasons on pre-Beatles radio in the early '60s. That high voice of Frankie Valli calling dogs to dinner on "Sherry" and "Big Girls Don't Cry" was distinctive, but I never had much interest in the group. In my senior year of college, one of my suitemates was a Four Seasons fan, and he couldn't understand why I thought they were so uncool.

But that's what I thought. Clunky. Uncool. In later years, I developed an awareness of the sheer craft of those records, but at the time of my late '70s immersion in the righteously rockin' noise of punk, new wave, power pop, and rock 'n' roll, when my heightened affection for the '60s meant an adoration of British Invasion, garage, and The Monkees, The Four Seasons simply were not part of my preferred soundscape. They were, to me, too obviously old school, more Frank Sinatra than Rolling Stones. I didn't hate them. 

But I didn't like them, either.



You wanna hear a weird turning point? There was this 1993 movie called Heart And Souls, an inconsequential trifle starring Robert Downey Jr., Charles Grodin, Alfre Woodard, and a cast of dozens. I barely remember seeing the movie, but I remember its use of The Four Seasons' "Walk Like A Man," and I remember digging the song for the first time...ever? Could be. I can't explain what or why, but I've been into the song since that evening at the cinema.

I'm probably not ever going to be the world's biggest Four Seasons fan. I don't care about cool or uncool--I dig what I dig--but I also can't pretend that I like something more than I do. And I have no affinity whatsoever for Valli and/or the Seasons' work in the '70s and beyond; I'd be perfectly okay with never hearing "Who Loves You," "Swearin' To God," "My Eyes Adored You," "December, 1963 (Oh What A Night)," or "Grease" again. 

But.

I can appreciate some of the '60s stuff now. "Workin' My Way Back To You." "Let's Hang On!" "Big Man In Town." "Rag Doll." A relative obscurity called "Let's Ride Again." Valli's original version of "Silence Is Golden," though I do still prefer The Tremeloes' hit cover. These are terrific records, a statement of the obvious that I would not have conceded when I was in my teens or twenties. "Walk Like A Man" is freakin' superb. Hell, I might even consider seeing Jersey Boys. No rush. We're walkin' here.

KISS: Then She Kissed Me


KISS does the girl groups! I...should probably rephrase that.

Teen me bought KISS' 1977 album Love Gun for its hit single "Christine Sixteen," a song I liked and my college roommate detested. My affection for the song has largely faded over time, and I'm now more likely to play a Paul Stanley power pop song called "Tomorrow And Tonight" from that album than I am to spin the hit. But this gender-switched cover of a song made famous by The Crystals was a favorite then, and it's my favorite Love Gun track now. 

The members of KISS, of course, hate it. But what do they know?

NICO: I'm Not Sayin'



My early '80s purchase of a used copy of the The Velvet Underground & Nico LP was my first opportunity to hear The Velvet Underground and/or Nico (part of a story told here). Nico's 1965 rendition of Gordon Lightfoot's "I'm Not Sayin'" predates her VU residency, but I didn't hear it until Dana played it in 1992, on an episode of TIRnRR's precursor We're Your Friends For Now on WNMA. Nico's voice tended to be hard-edged, a product of her Teutonic origin, more Marlene Dietrich than Dusty Springfield or Diana Ross. She sounded her sweetest on the Velvets' "I'll Be Your Mirror" and on "I'm Not Sayin'," a pretty folk-pop number from pop music's best year ever.

PSYCHEDELIC FURS: Pretty In Pink


This was the first Psychedelic Furs track I ever owned. Actually, it's tied for that honor with "Sister Europe," since both songs were on the 1981 various-artists budget sampler Exposed II: A Cheap Peek At Today's Provocative New Rock. Yep, it's the same Exposed two-fer mentioned in reference to Holly and the Italians in last week's 10 Songs. Bang for your buck, my friends. 



It was not the first Furs song I ever heard. A friend of mine bought the group's eponymous debut LP, and played it for the first time on a visit to my apartment. The memory is bittersweet; we were friends, but we would not remain friends. Another story for another time. Neither of us was terribly impressed with the album initially (though I think my then-friend came around to digging it eventually), but a song called "We Love You" stood out for me: near-cacophonous pop music, punctuated by shrieking saxophone and a sneering whine of a lead vocal inspired (I felt) by one John Lydon. I should have hated it. Instead, I was mesmerized. Nowadays, it's on my iPod, and I sneer and sing right along with it.

I never became a Psychedelic Furs fan. Not because of any lingering resentment of people who exiled themselves from my circle; the group just didn't really appeal to me. The two obvious exceptions were "We Love You" and "Pretty In Pink."  The latter subsequently became embedded into pop culture thanks to director John Hughes and actress Molly Ringwald, but in '81 it was already a standout pop song; it was just a standout pop song that the world didn't know about yet. "Love My Way" later served as the group's introduction to a larger American audience, but "We Love You" and "Pretty In Pink" remain the only Psychedelic Furs works that ever connected with me.

ROXY MUSIC: Love Is The Drug



My brain retains no real recollection of discovering the sound of Roxy Music. The earliest specific memory I can pinpoint is hearing "Dance Away" on the radio in my dorm room circa 1979. The track (which I liked immediately) was from the group's then-recent album Manifesto, which was something of a Roxy Music comeback record. It certainly was not the first I heard or heard of Roxy Music.

So: where did I start with Roxy Music? Well, it's possible I saw them perform on Supersonic, a mid-'70s British jukebox TV show that was shown on cable from NYC's WPIX. I probably read about them in Phonograph Record Magazine. And, even though I can't back this up with a concrete memory, I certainly heard "Love Is The Drug" on the radio. Somewhere. Some time. It had to have been my first exposure to Roxy Music, even if I don't quite remember it.

'Tain't no big thing....

The first Roxy Music song I owned was "Same Old Scene," on the Times Square soundtrack album. I got my first Roxy Music album in 1982, a used copy of the debut LP. When a friend visited my apartment, I showed him that record along with a few other recent acquisitions (an Elvis Presley 2-LP best-of on swirly colored vinyl, Lords Of The New Church, and a positively brutalized used copy of New York Dolls). He knew Roxy Music quite well, but was surprised to learn that I might be a fan, too.

Maybe I was a fan. Maybe I wasn't yet. If not, I'd get there before long. The smooth, luxurious splendor of the 1982 Avalon album and its magnificent single "More Than This" blew me away. I liked the earlier, noisier stuff. I liked the later, subtly swaying stuff. Yeah, I was a fan. I love music. I love Roxy Music. And love is the drug I need.

THE SHAGGS: You're Something Special To Me


No, I have nothing to say about this track. Except to point out that it was one of Dana's picks this week.

SHIRLEY AND COMPANY: Shame, Shame, Shame

Shirley And Company's "Shame, Shame, Shame" conjures an odd and unwelcome juxtaposition of images for me. I remember the song from its reign on the radio, of course, even though I didn't really get around to appreciating its merit until later. 

But I associate the song with a bit I saw on now-disgraced comedian Bill Cosby's variety TV show in the '70s. It was kind of a cool bit, actually, with Cosby and company lip-syncing to the record in a deadpan fashion that was both amusing and invigorating. I think I first started to really dig the song in that moment. It bothers me that this pleasant memory is tainted by the subsequent revelation of Cosby's loathsome criminal actions. Context. as I've said before: sometimes we can separate art from artist, and sometimes our comfort level prohibits such separation.

(And it's further unfair to penalize the song itself, since Shirley and Company had only an incidental connection to Cosby's show.)



It never occurred to me that "Shame, Shame, Shame" incorporated the Bo Diddley beat until I got a Rhino Records compilation CD called Bo Diddley Beats, which included the song among its gathering of bomp-bomp-bomp-ba-bomp-bomp examples performed by Diddley, The Johnny Otis Show, Ben E. King, The Crickets, Donovan, The Strangeloves, et al. That provides a much more agreeable setting to enjoy the charm of Shirley and Company.

MATTHEW SWEET AND SUSANNA HOFFS: Care Of Cell 44



I'm a big fan of music. Yes, yes, I realize you already knew that. And while I wish I were capable of making music, that particular skill set was not included in my personal utility belt. As a fan, I remain grateful for the gift musicians grant us. And I'm especially grateful when the musicians seem to also be fans, like me.

Heh. I'm sure most musicians are fans, anyway. I guess that would stand to reason, right? That's why they make music in the first place, other than, y'know, looking cool and facilitating the process of getting what we euphemistically refer to as "dates." Some musician/fans proclaim their devotion with the same evident glee as me putting up a Suzi Quatro poster, wearing my Kinks t-shirt, co-hosting a radio show, or writing a blog. 

Matthew Sweet and Susanna Hoffs (aka Sid n Susie) are fans. Their love of the music is apparent in their own work, of course, and obvious in Under The Covers, a series of covers collections they've done. Oh, these are exquisite, offering this dynamic duo's lovingly-executed takes on material by The Stone Poneys, The Raspberries, Carly Simon, and more. It ain't easy to cover The Zombies; that group's originals are damned near perfect. But Matthew and Susanna's rendition of "Care Of Cell 44" captures the fragile beauty of The Zombies' Odessey And Oracle LP to striking effect. Here's to Sid n Susie; I am proud to be a fan of these particular music fans.

WILLIE MAE "BIG MAMA" THORNTON AND JOHNNY ACE: Yes Baby



We chose to herald next week's presentation of The Ninth Annual DANA'S FUNKY SOUL PIT with an epic extra-length closing set this week, servin' up a taste of the heady mix of soul, R & B, blues, and whatever else Dana feels like putting into the pit next week. The tease this week included The Bandwagon, Aretha Franklin, Arthur Alexander, Erma Franklin, Prince, Nichelle Nichols, The Mynah Birds, Little Eva, Chuck Berry, The Isley Brothers, Tiny Bradshaw, Arthur Conley, and The Gaylads. It also included "Yes Baby," an invigorating 1954 jump blues summit between Johnny Ace and Big Mama Thornton. For those (like me!) not previously familiar with this boppin' little number, you'll hear a bit of Little Richard's "Hey-Hey-Hey-Hey" roughly four years before Little Richard wrote and recorded "Hey-Hey-Hey-Hey," and a decade before The Beatles covered Little Richard's "Kansas City/Hey-Hey-Hey-Hey" medley. It's all connected. It's all essential. And it's ALL pop music. Come back next week for our annual trip to Dana's Funky Soul Pit.



TIP THE BLOGGER: CC's Tip Jar!

You can support this blog by becoming a patron on Patreon: Fund me, baby! 

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 2: CD or download
Volume 3: download

Volume 4: CD or 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 155 essays about 155 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).