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Post by Prole Hole on Jun 26, 2020 1:57:56 GMT -5
Tapping in Desert Dweller - did you ever speak to your parents about the whole 60's thing?
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Post by Prole Hole on Jun 29, 2020 4:36:47 GMT -5
1974 – “Killer Queen”, Queen Clockwise from top: Boudica, Victoria, Anne, Elizabeth I
Nothing about Queen added up at this point in their career. They’re a cock rock band fronted by a gay/bi/whatever-he-feels-like front man working away in a genre that pretty much demands rampant heterosexuality. They’re not even really a full-time concern. They’re working in a heavy genre dressed for a glam party but never remotely a glam band, despite a few superficial overlaps. For two albums they produced sub-Led Zeppelin rock which, while competent in its own way, never really, you know, went anywhere. There was a derivative nature to a lot of their material and though it’s always been clear that all four members of the band are talented musicians, the first two albums never quite manage to break free of their influences or make perfect use of that fact. Songs about ogres, marching black queens and wizards feel out of keeping with the band that wrote “We Are The Champions” and “Crazy Little Thing Called Love”. The first two album covers are dark, brooding almost, the first being a spotlight highlighting a tiny someone (Freddie?) on stage and the second being the “four heads” pose eventually made famous by the “Bohemian Rhapsody” video as the members of the band glare at the listener with the distant contempt and indifference of remote gods. There’s precious little suggestion of the camp excess that will define the rest of the band’s career. Even the album titles – simply Queen and Queen II – suggest Led Zeppelin. There’s not much, in other words, to give us clues about the band that is to come and the bits which are there seem to be randomly assembled. 1974’s Sheer Heart Attack changed all that, and in a pretty dramatic and unrepentant fashion. Out go the dark, mysterious covers and in come a sprawled out band portrait that make it look like they’ve been hit by a stun ray or some particularly effective opiates. Queen’s first three singles were “Keep Yourself Alive” (solid guitar work, unremarkable in any other way), “Liar” (straightforward cock rock), and “Seven Seas Of Rhye”, the only one of the three to have any measure of success and the first single to really make use of the fact Freddie Mercury can actually sing. They’re … fine. Nothing to be ashamed of. But their fourth single was “Killer Queen”. That title may imply it belongs to the same spectrum of songs that produced “The Fairy Feller’s Master Stroke” or “Ogre Battle” but it really, really isn’t – it’s a complete abdication of that approach. This queen isn’t some mystical monarch from on high commanding armies for people who read too much Tolkien. This queen is a big flouncy fashionista who drinks champagne and commands baked goods consumption “just like Marie Antoinette”. This queen, it’s fair to say, is rather closer to home. Because, of course, this queen is Freddie Mercury. Oh sure, he’s claimed it’s about a high-class call girl, but come on. Even if it’s not literally about Freddie Mercury, absolutely everything about it is steeped in his aesthetic, his complete irreverence for anything approaching decency or normality and the subversive fun that engenders. It’s about a call girl in name only. Mercury wrote it, of course, and it’s absolutely shot through with every part of his sensibilities. Gone are the ponderous Christian analogies of the previous albums. Gone are misty hilltops. Gone is the fealty to a genre that Queen were never – quite – a natural fit for. In its place is the high-camp of Freddie Mercury, the Goddamned Brian May Guitar Sound refined down to its Platonian ideal here, the skill of John Deacon’s extraordinary bass lines, and the deployment of Roger Taylor’s signature drum moves. “Killer Queen” crystallises everything the band were to become at the expense of pretty much everything the band had been. If you want a Rosetta Stone for Queen music, there’s no better choice than “Killer Queen” and it’s tough to claim this as anything other than a triumph for them. It’s gloriously excessive in every way and massively over-produced in almost every respect and in a way that will become Queen’s default style pretty much from here until Mercury’s death. And yet it never feels cluttered or fussy – there’s those vast choral harmonies all over the song, double bass lines at one point, soaring guitar solos bouncing off each other in the stereo picture, sound effects… It’s beyond absurd yet it’s all kept together by Mercury’s lead vocal, up-front and up in the mix, anchoring all the bombastic idiocy that, in the hands of anyone else, would be an outright disaster. But Freddie Mercury – arguably the most distinctive voice of the 70’s – can hold it all together through sheer force of will and personality. Other people can sing “Killer Queen” but only Freddie Mercury can really perform it. It’s cabaret, it’s theatre, it’s excessive, it’s him. And it’s put together by a band that sound hungry. This is important for “Killer Queen” because a lot of the tricks “Killer Queen” pulls are going to become default operating procedure for the band but this is the first time we really get to see them all assembled together correctly in one place. So those multi-part harmonies that litter this song will go on to define the tediously inescapable “Bohemian Rhapsody” but that sound – so unique to Queen – gets its first proper airing here. It’s not that Queen had never done harmonies before, but they’d never done them quite like this before. That Goddamned Brian May Guitar Sound is on both of the first albums, but the way it’s used here – especially in the big mid-song solo – is how it’s going to be used from here on out. It’s not just a solo as part of a song, it’s a central tenet of the whole band’s sound. But there’s an enthusiasm to the solo here that belies the repetitive nature of what it will become – this isn’t Brian May turning up to do his party-piece That One Thing Brian May Does From Now Until The End Of Time, this is him turning in some really solid solo work that compliments the song. It’s not “Killer Queen”’s fault that from this point on its pretty much all Brian May ever does, it still shines here. Freddie’s voice anchors the song but let’s not forget the really rather brilliant piano part he’s responsible for either, providing an excellent underpinning to the whole affair. John Deacon – always the most under-appreciated member of the band – turns in some startlingly great work here. Roger Taylor is a man who knows, if you will excuse the expression, when to turn a trick, hence the great snare and tom fills under “absolutely drive you wild” at the end of the song, supporting but never dominating the complex multi-part harmonies even while remaining distinctive. It’s all so absolutely ludicrous and that’s what makes it so thoroughly entertaining. “Killer Queen” lives up to its name – it’s a killer single. It came at the right time too. The band’s first two singles hadn’t charted and though “Seven Seas Of Rhye” had reached number ten in the UK charts, and its success persuaded Freddie Mercury to make Queen his actual life rather than a side project, it was a solid performer rather than something remarkable. “Killer Queen” changed all that – it propelled them to Number 2 and really helped them make their mark on the public consciousness. That makes sense – “Seven Seas Of Rhye” is a solid song but it’s hard to claim it feels particularly distinctive in a chart littered with the likes of Paper Lace’s “Billy Don’t Be A Hero”, Slade’s “Everyday” or Wings’s “Jet”. But when “Killer Queen” charted it was alongside David Essex’s “Gonna Make You A Star”, The Bay City Rollers “All Of Me Loves All Of You” and the Rubettes “Juke Box Jive”. Against that kind of background “Killer Queen” really does stand out. It’s a refreshing blast of nonsense in a chart full of sludgy rock, the rapidly-cooling coals of glam and quirky outliers (welcome to the unexpected chart success of the Wombles) and the band reaped the rewards. There used to be a time when Queen were more than a series of tics, check-boxes and endless repetitions, before they became their own cover band, before That Fucking Musical, before dignity and a basic ability to say “no” evaporated, and there’s no better example of that than “Killer Queen”. It may not be their biggest single of the 1970’s – no prizes for guessing what that’s going to be – but there’s a strong argument to suggest it may well be their best. What Else Happened in 1974?
Abba! Abba happened in 1974! They won Eurovision with the inescapably brilliant “Waterloo”, the start of an eight-year chart run that at the time would leave them second only to The Beatles in terms of sales. Fans of Swanee Whistles (slide whistles for American viewers) will be delighted at the success of novelty hit “The Streak”, though possibly nobody else will be. Sparks give us the impeccable Kimono My House, and Ringo Starr releases his least bad solo album, Goodnight Vienna. Cher files for divorce from Sonny, and after six years Mick Taylor leaves The Rolling Stones. Joni Mitchell releases the landmark Court And Spark, and both King Crimson and The Stooges call it quits. Kiss release their first – and second – album, and the Ramones play their debut CBGB’s gig. David Bowie has his last flirtation with glam and the future with Diamond Dogs and its accompanying stage show. The original line-up of Sly And The Family Stone release their last album, Small Talk, and in heavy metal news, Judas Priest release their first album. Kraftwerk give us their breakthrough, Autobahn, Karl Douglas is “Kung Fu Fighting” (it’s the biggest song of the year), Steve Miller gives us the world’s worst wolf whistle on “The Joker”, and the Bay City Rollers go for tartan overload on “Shang-a-lang”. What Did We Nearly End Up Discussing?
“This Town Ain’t Big Enough For The Both Of Us” by Sparks was the most likely alternative for 1974, but I’m not sure how edifying copy-pasting the phrase “It’s fucking great!” five hundred times would really be. The wonderful Suzi Quatro spent quite a few weeks at Number 2 with “Devil Gate Drive” (it struggled to Number 1 for a couple of weeks as well) and deserves to be recognised, even if it’s not our entry this time out. Noted Prole favourite Abba technically qualify with “Waterloo”, which spent two weeks at Number 2 before ascending to the top of the charts for the same length of time, and was deeply tempting. And of course there’s “Wombling Merry Christmas”, but it’s not the Wombles at their finest, really. And Blue Suede’s “Hooked On A Feeling” bounced in and out of the U.S. Number 2 spot a frankly insane number of times but not even Guardians Of The Galaxy was enough to make it a viable option. Rankings: 1. The Beatles - "Strawberry Fields Forever" / "Penny Lane" 2. The Kinks - "Lola" 3. Jean Knight - "Mr Big Stuff" 4. The Animals - "We Gotta Get Out Of This Place" 5. Sly And The Family Stone - "Everyday People" 6. The Sweet, "Ballroom Blitz" 7. Petula Clark - "Downtown" 8. Queen, "Killer Queen" 9. Elton John - "Rocket Man (I Think It's Going To Be A Long, Long Time)" 10. Tom Jones - "Delilah" 11. Eddie Cochrane – "Three Steps To Heaven" 12. The Troggs - "Wild Thing" 13. Jimmy Dean - "Big Bad John" 14. Chubby Checker - "Let's Twist Again" 15. Billy J Kramer And The Dakotas - "Do You Want To Know A Secret" Next Week On We’re Number Two…
Disco. www.myinstants.com/instant/drama/
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ayatollahcm
TI Pariah
The Bringer of Peacatollah
Posts: 1,689
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Post by ayatollahcm on Jun 29, 2020 5:09:56 GMT -5
I like the choice to limit your selections to songs that topped at #2. Great as "Waterloo" is, I think an ascendant pick would detract from the solid analysis you've been doing. It really is a toss-up between Queen and Sparks, as both trax are stellar. The Blue Swede novelty is great, too, but if I don't quite know how much mileage you'd get out of that novelty.
But I must contest your assessment of Goodnight Vienna, an altogether fine album. The best Ringo is his previous country-fare Beaucoups of Blues. It's his Imagine, his All Things Must Pass, his Band on the Run. But much more laid back and fun.
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Post by Prole Hole on Jun 29, 2020 5:29:54 GMT -5
I like the choice to limit your selections to songs that topped at #2. Great as "Waterloo" is, I think an ascendant pick would detract from the solid analysis you've been doing. It really is a toss-up between Queen and Sparks, as both trax are stellar. The Blue Swede novelty is great, too, but if I don't quite know how much mileage you'd get out of that novelty.
But I must contest your assessment of Goodnight Vienna, an altogether fine album. The best Ringo is his previous country-fare Beaucoups of Blues. It's his Imagine, his All Things Must Pass, his Band on the Run. But much more laid back and fun.
I doubt I have listened to Beaucoups Of Blues in... *counts on fingers* ... thirty years maybe? I remember finding it insufferably twee, though possibly the intervening three decades may lead me to change that opinion. However, we shall never know because there's just not that much wine in the world. I remember Ringo being the only album of his that could compete with Goodnight Vienna, but that may just be me repeating received opinion at this stage because again it's been simply ages since I listened to it.
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Post by Prole Hole on Jul 6, 2020 3:44:39 GMT -5
1975 – “Never Can Say Goodbye”, Gloria Gaynor
That was the best picture they could find?Disco sucks. Disco is a profoundly important musical and social development. Both of these statements are true and neither of them are. Such is the contradiction that lies at the heart of arguably the most important musical movement of the 70’s. Disco is tacky, slight, overblown and intentionally facile, which gives some ground to those that want to claim disco sucks. It’s also meant to be – a disposable art form that exists simply to be enjoyed. What’s the point of criticising something for not being what it was never meant to be? Disco is just the latest iteration of dance music, something that in its modern form can be dated back to at least the 1920’s, and nobody gives the Charleston a hard time for failing to have politically relevant lyrics. Which gives some grounds to disco not sucking. Disco is profoundly important musically – in that it’s a vastly influential genre whose inspiration can still be felt today – and socially, in that it became the music that 70’s American gay liberation crystallised around. No disco, no Studio 54, no Paradise Garage. Which makes it important. It also pales next to the far more direct social and political politics of punk and what it wanted to achieve. Which makes it less important. See? Deeply contradictory. There are few genres quite as divisive as disco and even to this day disco remains surprisingly difficult to quantify. Gloria Gaynor is, of course, a name synonymous with the disco movement, though this isn’t the song she’s most closely associated with. That would be the seemingly-inescapable “I Will Survive” – but “I Will Survive” was released at a time when disco was, if not completely on the wane, certainly starting to lose momentum. “Never Can Say Goodbye” was released very near the beginning of disco’s cultural dominance and to describe it as a smash is something of an understatement – it’s one of the reasons disco became popular in the first place. Despite never reaching Number 1 on either side of the Atlantic, the influence of Gaynor in popularising disco is absolutely vast, not least because of the album Never Can Say Goodbye. The single did well – it was Gaynor’s breakthrough – but more than that, the first side of the album consisted of three tracks, the previously-failed single “Honey Bee”, the disco-makeover of the title track originally recorded by The Jackson 5, and a disco version of “Reach Out, I’ll Be There”, which were segued together into one non-stop nineteen minute track. That might not seem like much now, but in 1975 it was an absolute revelation. It proved vastly popular in clubs – discos, if you will – because playing the entirety of the first side of the album allowed nineteen minutes of dancing without a break (and presumably meant the DJ could slip out for a quick piss without worrying that the music might come crashing to a stop if there was a queue at the urinals). All three songs would go on to be successful singles but “Never Can Say Goodbye” became the defining song of Gaynor’s early career and one of the defining disco songs – and it’s easy to see why. All the requisite parts that make a truly great disco record are here. There’s those swirling strings in the introduction – sweeping, over-the-top and ever-so-slightly shrill, the string arrangements are a vital part of so many disco records. Gaynor’s voice itself, an absolute powerhouse performance going full pelt and completely committing to the performance, is obviously crucial. The sincerity and power that Gaynor brings to the song is a key to its success simply because it makes it so easy to buy into the song – there’s plenty of energy coming from the music but it’s all dwarfed by Gaynor when she’s going full pelt and it’s amazing just how strong a voice she has when she lets of it off the leash (something that’s not immediately clear from “I Will Survive”, which is way more restrained than “Never Can Say Goodbye”). There’s an electricity about the song, derived in part from the syncopated drums – artificial of course, no real drummer ever came within a million mines of this song – and in part from an arrangement that never lets the pace slacken. The four-on-the-floor beat never varies throughout the length of the song – nor indeed the length of the three-song medley on the album – so once you’ve started there’s not going to be any let-up. You get pulled in and you stay pulled in. This is one of disco’s easy-to-miss tricks – it’s not just that it encourages you to dance but the sheer relentlessness of the artificial drums, running for a longer period of time than any human drummer could maintain, makes staying pretty much an inevitability and the longer the tracks the longer you stay. That was pretty revelatory in 1975. “Never Can Say Goodbye”’s single mix is only three minutes long but it packs so much into its comparatively short running time that it feels like it goes on for so much longer. And then of course there’s the production, a key element in all the best disco songs. The combination of electronic drums, woozy string lines, lead singer, backup singers, keyboards, other instrumentation and just about anything else you can think of makes production on a record like this a serious challenge, not to mention expensive. And the fact that “Never Can Say Goodbye” sports four producers – Jay Ellis, Meco Monardo, Tony Bonigiovi and Harold Wheeler – should tell you something about the effort put in to getting all this sounding right. And yet what an effort – for a three-minute single to pack that much punch just shows what a quality job they did. The album version tops out at over six minutes but all the tricks the song and its production pull can be comfortably compressed into the 7-inch single and carry just as much impact as the longer version. That’s quite the achievement. And it’s not as if Gaynor’s version of the song would be the last time “Never Can Say Goodbye” hit it big, despite it being such a distinctive part of her career. Cue, then, The Communards and their Hi-NRG version of the song, which made it to Number 4 in the UK over a decade later, in 1987 (it only made it to 51 on the Billboard Hot 100 in the States, though for some pleasing symmetry it made it to – you guessed it – Number 2 on the US Dance Club charts). What’s interesting about this is not so much the fact that the song became a hit again but that the difference between the Communards version and the Gloria Gaynor version is… almost nothing. The Communards version is clearly a product of the 80’s in the way that the Gaynor version is clearly a product of the 70’s, but the truth is the differences between them are tiny. Why? Because, in the end, disco never died. You can have as many Disco Sucks record-burnings as you like. You can criticize the lack of “authenticity” – whatever that means – that rock and roll or blues can apparently lay claim to. Have a Disco Demolition Night if it makes you feel better. But even when disco “died” in the early 80’s it didn’t. Not really. It just changed its name a bit when calling something “disco” came with too much cultural baggage. Disco became Hi-NRG which became dance which became house and so on and so on and so on. It diversified too – Euro disco, dance-punk, rave, nu disco… it’s all part of the same spectrum and it can all draw its roots back to songs like “Never Can Say Goodbye”. Punk couldn’t kill disco. Neither could New Romantic, glam’s pretentious younger sister. New Wave, post-punk, goth, heavy metal… none of them could deliver the killing blow. Gloria Gaynor didn’t just make a song that popularised a newly-emergent form of music, she has, by extension, become a lodestone for whole genres that owe their existence to her success. She may not get credit for it but Gloria Gaynor might just be one of the most influential recording artists of the 20 th century as a result of that – and it’s with this song, not “I Will Survive”, that she did it. If you’ve danced to almost anything in a club or discotheque since the mid-70’s onwards you owe Gloria Gaynor a profound debt of gratitude. What Else Happened In 1975?
Like it or loathe it, it’s the year – well, one of them – of “Bohemian Rhapsody”. A very, very frightening thing indeed, though it isn’t the biggest song of the year (because its success is split almost evenly between 1975 and 1976). No, that award goes to Billy Swan’s crossover country hit “I Can Help”. Mmm. The second-biggest is 10cc’s “I’m Not In Love”. Talking Heads play their first gig and Peter Gabriel leaves Genesis to go solo. Ronnie Wood becomes Mick Taylor’s eventual replacement in The Rolling Stones, which is handy as the Faces officially break up so Rod Stewart can plough relentlessly onwards with a solo career that’s still going strong. What’s that noise on the horizon? It must be punk as the Sex Pistols play their first gig at St Martin’s Art College. David Bowie embraces plastic soul with Young Americans and Aerosmith have Toys In The Attic. The Bee-Gees begin their return to cultural relevancy with “Jive Talking” and Bruce Springsteen hits it big with Born To Run. Another of disco’s big classics, Donna Summer’s “Love To Love You Baby”, is released and astonishingly fails to get to Number 1 on either side of the Atlantic. The Rocky Horror Picture Show hits cinemas, meaning we can all do the time warp again, and perhaps most importantly of all, the seminal and vastly influential Dr Teeth And The Electric Mayhem are founded. So are Bony M, The Boomtown Rats and Iron Maiden. What Did We Nearly End Up Discussing?
1975 was always going to be the Year Of Disco, so if it wasn’t Ms Gaynor it was going to be Ms Summer and “Love To Love You Baby”, which got to Number 2 in the US. It also means Barry White was in contention with “You’re The First, The Last, My Everything” which also peaked at Number 2 in the States. Minnie Riperton’s larynx-shredding “Lovin’ You” got to Number 2 in the UK (and all the way to Number 1 in the US) for something a bit different, and a full fifteen years after its original release our very first entry, “Three Steps To Heaven”, made it back to Number 2 in the hands of the devastatingly awful 50’s-revival band Showaddywaddy. Number of US hits for Showaddywaddy? Nil. Well done, America. And thanks to the inescapable monolith that is “Bohemian Rhapsody”’s UK chart run Hot Chocolate could only get to Number 2 with “I Believe In Miracles”. You sexy thing you. Rankings: 1. The Beatles - "Strawberry Fields Forever" / "Penny Lane" 2. The Kinks - "Lola" 3. Jean Knight - "Mr Big Stuff" 4. The Animals - "We Gotta Get Out Of This Place" 5. Sly And The Family Stone - "Everyday People" 6. The Sweet, "Ballroom Blitz" 7. Petula Clark - "Downtown" 8. Queen, "Killer Queen" 9. Elton John - "Rocket Man (I Think It's Going To Be A Long, Long Time)" 10. Tom Jones - "Delilah" 11. Gloria Gaynor - "Never Can Say Goodbye" 12. Eddie Cochrane – "Three Steps To Heaven" 13. The Troggs - "Wild Thing" 14. Jimmy Dean - "Big Bad John" 15. Chubby Checker - "Let's Twist Again" 16. Billy J Kramer And The Dakotas - "Do You Want To Know A Secret" Next Week On We’re Number Two…
Good question. This isn’t a subtle hint or clue, it’s just a really poor year for Number 2 singles…
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Rainbow Rosa
TI Forumite
not gay, just colorful
Posts: 3,604
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Post by Rainbow Rosa on Jul 6, 2020 14:41:02 GMT -5
It also pales next to the far more direct social and political politics of punk and what it wanted to achieve. Hm. Soft disagreement here from the stateside perspective. I'm sympathetic with the no-wavers' argument that musically, anyway, punk is pretty regressive; I don't think it's a coincidence that the best punk band ever (imo) had so many songs with a clear disco influence ("Lost in the Supermarket," "Magnificent Seven," "Rock the Casbah" - all fantastic songs). And like, I dunno, is the mosh pit really all that different from the dancefloor? I'm kind of skeptical of the school of thought that says disco backlash is solely rooted in racism, homophobia, but I struggle to see how disco and punk were all that different beyond demographics.
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Post by Prole Hole on Jul 7, 2020 5:40:46 GMT -5
It also pales next to the far more direct social and political politics of punk and what it wanted to achieve. Hm. Soft disagreement here from the stateside perspective. I'm sympathetic with the no-wavers' argument that musically, anyway, punk is pretty regressive; I don't think it's a coincidence that the best punk band ever (imo) had so many songs with a clear disco influence ("Lost in the Supermarket," "Magnificent Seven," "Rock the Casbah" - all fantastic songs). And like, I dunno, is the mosh pit really all that different from the dancefloor? I'm kind of skeptical of the school of thought that says disco backlash is solely rooted in racism, homophobia, but I struggle to see how disco and punk were all that different beyond demographics. I think it's more a question of lyrical intent. Of course no genre completely exists in its own hermetically-sealed box - certainly John Lydon has been up-front about his appreciation of disco, and Sid Vicious was an Abba fan (to take two random examples). But a lot of the "politics" around disco, and especially around gay liberation in America, tend to come from songs with vaguely-inclusive messages of empowerment or inclusiveness - "I Will Survive", "We Are Family" et al - where as the directly political nature of punk lyrics tend to be far more specific. Arguably the best known pro-gay song from the 70's is "Glad To Be Gay" by Tom Robinson - and it's not a disco song or American. You mention the Clash, but there's no mainstream disco song that's as socially or politically up-front as, say, "White Man In Hammersmith Palais" or "English Civil War" and no disco song as politically pointed as the Sex Pistols "God Save The Queen" (admittedly the Pistols are a slightly odd fit, given the brevity of their career - maybe Bollocks II would have been covered in syncopated funky bass lines and PiL's career suggests that may well be the case). That's what I mean when I say punk was far more direct. Is there a difference between a mosh pit and a flashing disco dancefloor? Not really, it's people dancing and enjoying themselves. It's not that disco couldn't be political - it absolutely was in the way it polarised people and you're right to mention elements of racism and homophobia in the backlash because that was absolutely a part of it, if not absolutely all of it - but it's intent was not specifically focussed on politics in music in the same way.
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Rainbow Rosa
TI Forumite
not gay, just colorful
Posts: 3,604
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Post by Rainbow Rosa on Jul 7, 2020 13:13:51 GMT -5
Hm. Soft disagreement here from the stateside perspective. I'm sympathetic with the no-wavers' argument that musically, anyway, punk is pretty regressive; I don't think it's a coincidence that the best punk band ever (imo) had so many songs with a clear disco influence ("Lost in the Supermarket," "Magnificent Seven," "Rock the Casbah" - all fantastic songs). And like, I dunno, is the mosh pit really all that different from the dancefloor? I'm kind of skeptical of the school of thought that says disco backlash is solely rooted in racism, homophobia, but I struggle to see how disco and punk were all that different beyond demographics. I think it's more a question of lyrical intent. Of course no genre completely exists in its own hermetically-sealed box - certainly John Lydon has been up-front about his appreciation of disco, and Sid Vicious was an Abba fan (to take two random examples). But a lot of the "politics" around disco, and especially around gay liberation in America, tend to come from songs with vaguely-inclusive messages of empowerment or inclusiveness - "I Will Survive", "We Are Family" et al - where as the directly political nature of punk lyrics tend to be far more specific. Arguably the best known pro-gay song from the 70's is "Glad To Be Gay" by Tom Robinson - and it's not a disco song or American. You mention the Clash, but there's no mainstream disco song that's as socially or politically up-front as, say, "White Man In Hammersmith Palais" or "English Civil War" and no disco song as politically pointed as the Sex Pistols "God Save The Queen" (admittedly the Pistols are a slightly odd fit, given the brevity of their career - maybe Bollocks II would have been covered in syncopated funky bass lines and PiL's career suggests that may well be the case). That's what I mean when I say punk was far more direct. Is there a difference between a mosh pit and a flashing disco dancefloor? Not really, it's people dancing and enjoying themselves. It's not that disco couldn't be political - it absolutely was in the way it polarised people and you're right to mention elements of racism and homophobia in the backlash because that was absolutely a part of it, if not absolutely all of it - but it's intent was not specifically focussed on politics in music in the same way. Here's a followup question, though: if we believe, as you're touching on in the Gaynor post, that disco never died, it just mutated into various forms of dance music... well, rap music is arguably one of those mutations. (We could debate whether dub or funk was the bigger root, but I lean towards disco because 1) disco had its musical roots in funk and its technical roots in dub, 2) the first hit rap single is twelve minutes of Nile Rodgers samples.) And rap music rapidly became a superior art form and a superior messenger for political messaging. "Fuck tha Police" alone had an impact that easily dwarfs the entire MDC discography, for instance.
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Post by Prole Hole on Jul 8, 2020 6:39:35 GMT -5
I think it's more a question of lyrical intent. Of course no genre completely exists in its own hermetically-sealed box - certainly John Lydon has been up-front about his appreciation of disco, and Sid Vicious was an Abba fan (to take two random examples). But a lot of the "politics" around disco, and especially around gay liberation in America, tend to come from songs with vaguely-inclusive messages of empowerment or inclusiveness - "I Will Survive", "We Are Family" et al - where as the directly political nature of punk lyrics tend to be far more specific. Arguably the best known pro-gay song from the 70's is "Glad To Be Gay" by Tom Robinson - and it's not a disco song or American. You mention the Clash, but there's no mainstream disco song that's as socially or politically up-front as, say, "White Man In Hammersmith Palais" or "English Civil War" and no disco song as politically pointed as the Sex Pistols "God Save The Queen" (admittedly the Pistols are a slightly odd fit, given the brevity of their career - maybe Bollocks II would have been covered in syncopated funky bass lines and PiL's career suggests that may well be the case). That's what I mean when I say punk was far more direct. Is there a difference between a mosh pit and a flashing disco dancefloor? Not really, it's people dancing and enjoying themselves. It's not that disco couldn't be political - it absolutely was in the way it polarised people and you're right to mention elements of racism and homophobia in the backlash because that was absolutely a part of it, if not absolutely all of it - but it's intent was not specifically focussed on politics in music in the same way. Here's a followup question, though: if we believe, as you're touching on in the Gaynor post, that disco never died, it just mutated into various forms of dance music... well, rap music is arguably one of those mutations. (We could debate whether dub or funk was the bigger root, but I lean towards disco because 1) disco had its musical roots in funk and its technical roots in dub, 2) the first hit rap single is twelve minutes of Nile Rodgers samples.) And rap music rapidly became a superior art form and a superior messenger for political messaging. "Fuck tha Police" alone had an impact that easily dwarfs the entire MDC discography, for instance. I think there is definitely an argument to be made that disco has an influence on rap music, though as genres of music they're pretty distinct. However it would need to be an argument advanced by someone other than me, because I know next to nothing about rap music and would be a poor person to discuss it (also I have reached the limits of how far I can defend disco. I'm not so much out of my comfort zone as I've been teleported to an entirely different planet from my comfort zone). As I mentioned in my first reply, John Lydon has been happy to admit to disco fandom and it's very clear that PiL - and to some extent great swathes of post-punk - have a big debt to pay there, but I wonder how many, or if there are, rap artists who acknowledge disco as an antecedent of what they do. Especially given that rap - particularly late 80's / early 90's rap - tends to be exceedingly heterosexual and disco very much isn't, and rap music has always had problems when it comes to gay representation (a generalisation, I know). There may well be rap artists who do though, so this is a genuine question - are there any? Like I said, rap is a subject I'm largely ignorant on so I'd be happy for anyone with more knowledge to fill us in - you're a great writer Rainbow Rosa , so go for it!
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Post by Prole Hole on Jul 13, 2020 9:44:24 GMT -5
1976 – “Let ‘Em In”, Wings Taking a shit, taking ecstasy, taking time, taking focus I mean, really. What chance did Wings ever have? They were doomed from the word go. Wings – basically a stoner band for people who found the Doobie Brothers too folksy and The Doors too pretentious – never had a chance. Not that it was neccessarily impossible for Paul McCartney to disappear into another band successfully, but – well, he didn’t. There’s plenty of indicators for that – the constantly-shifting line-up that never managed to stabilise never implies the easiest of working relationships, and the fact that sometimes the band were Wings, Paul McCartney and Wings, Paul and Linda McCartney and Wings and then, eventually, simply Paul McCartney after the band’s inelegant collapse suggest McCartney couldn’t, it seems, ever quite commit to the band as it was. He couldn’t become just a member. Which is a shame because, despite the sneering jokes, the dismissive attitudes and the general antipathy towards the band, there’s a sort of ragged glory to Wings. As a band they’re vastly inconsistent but when they get it right they can be genuinely fantastic. Three albums – Band On The Run, Venus And Mars and Wings Across America are straightforwardly great, and there’s gems to be found on every other album they released, even strange misfires like Back To The Egg. And commercially they were terrifically successful – two number one albums in the US, two number one albums in the UK, five (!) number one singles in the US and – with the eminently defensible “Mull Of Kintyre” – the biggest selling non-charity single in UK chart history. Which isn’t bad for a wee band designed to give a former Beatle something to do with his time. What Wings were never able to do, though, was capture anything approaching either credibility, or critical approval ( Band On The Run aside), or the zeitgeist. Wings don’t belong to any genre or style – unless “Paul McCartney Side Project” is at this stage a genre unto itself – and as a result always seem a bit out of kilter in charts awash with glam, disco, punk and new wave. “Let ‘Em In” comes from Wings’ middle period – after their two best albums, and at the start of the creative and commercial slide that characterises the back half of their career. The single got to Number 2 in the UK and in some ways is a perfect exemplar of everything that is right and everything that is wrong with Wings. And as is so often the case with his post-Beatles career, Paul McCartney’s biggest problem is Paul McCartney – he’s very much his own worst enemy. It is, however, also his greatest strength. Wings were always going to be a lopsided band – with one of the most scrutinised and successful musicians in history, how could they be anything else? No disrespect to Denny Laine, but there were maybe two people alive in the 70’s – John Lennon and George Martin – who might have been able to tell McCartney what to do, or at least bring him to heel, but with the exception of “Live And Let Die” neither got the chance during that decade. Wings At The Speed Of Sound was an album designed to consciously correct this lop-sidedness. In 1976 McCartney was taking pelters in the press about how the band was basically just a vehicle for his ego - a bit odd, since Venus and Mars’s best moments are “Spirits Of Ancient Egypt” which is sung by Laine and “Medicine Jar” which was written by Jimmy McCulloch and Colin Allen and sung by McCulloch, but never mind. The results of this experiment in democracy are… uneven, let’s say, but it comes as no surprise to discover that the two big hits from the album are either written by McCartney or – in the case of the well-intentioned but broadly insufferable “Silly Love Songs” – Paul “with” Linda and Denny Laine (and one gets the impression that the “with” is doing a lot of heavy lifting there). “Let ‘Em In” is, from the moment of its twee little Westminster Chimes intro right down to the final false fade, every inch a McCartney song and it embraces some of his worst instincts as a songwriter. It’s aggressively, almost confrontationally, lightweight. They lyric is a tossed-off, insubstantial piece of nothing it’s hard to imagine took more than five minutes to scribble on the back of an envelope. The list of “characters” means nothing and relates to nothing.* The arrangement is punctiliously fastidious but in service of material that’s lighter than hydrogen. It’s all just so staggeringly inconsequential. In 1976, someone had to earn money (or be given pocket money), go to a record shop, flip through endless singles, locate this one, hand over money, take the 45 rpm 7” single home and listen to it. For this song? And yet… this is McCartney we’re talking about. That seems like a lot of effort for something so slight but its chart position shows that a lot of people did, in fact, do just that. There’s something almost inevitably charming about the song – it’s indefensible as strong material but it’s likeable enough and McCartney is a past master at substituting charm for weight. It’s one of his defining skills. There’s a couple of naturalistic moments that make it seem fairly genuine (McCartney comes in late at one point on “someone’s knocking on the door”, dropping the first syllable, but the mistake is left in). Joe English – by far the person making the most effort here – really contributes on drums, underscoring where it’s needed or throwing in the odd flourish to give a sense of progression. He’s terrific! And, you know, if this did only take five minutes to knock out as a quick ditty it says something about McCartney that something which took such apparent little effort still very nearly topped the charts. Very few people could achieve so much with apparently so little. That’s a skill too, and one it’s very easy to overlook. So yes – “Let ‘Em In” contains the best and worst of McCartney. And of Wings too, who would, following the release of At The Speed Of Sound, promptly shed two of its five members and reduce the band to the core of Paul, Linda and Denny Laine. The last time that happened we got the excellent Band On The Run. “Excellent” is, however, unlikely to be how anyone describes London Town, At The Speed Of Sound’s insubstantial successor. It’s a mediocre effort, principally remembered these days because of the song “Girlfriend”, which Michael Jackson would go on to have far greater success with than Wings ever managed. London Town also marks the beginning of the end for Wings. There would be just one further album, the deeply uninteresting Back To The Egg whose good songs manage to number just two, then the band petered out. Officially it ended in 1980 after McCartney was busted for marijuana possession in Japan, but the air had long since gone out of the project. McCartney himself went on to have a bit of a creative renaissance with McCartney II and Tug Of War before succumbing to The Curse Of The Eighties, which resulted in huge commercial success at the expense of anything actually worth listening to (a curse that would afflict any number of artists from David Bowie to Stevie Wonder). Wings were left, forgotten – a punchline, and little more than a footnote in the long career of one of the world’s most successful musicians ever. I mean, really. What chance did Wings ever have? * I mean, technically that’s not true. “Sister Suzie” is a reference to Linda, “brother John” is Lennon and “brother Michael” is as in McGear, McCartney’s actual brother and member of The Scaffold. “Martin Luther” is vague (King or the 16th century monk?), “Phil and Don” as in Everly, “Auntie Gin” is McCartney’s actual auntie, and “Uncle Ernie” is a Ringo reference. But what that has to do with the song is nothing – they’re just names or, at best, cutesy in-jokes. What Else Happened In 1976?Perennial bargain-bin favourite and musical punchline Frampton Comes Alive! is released, but don’t be fooled – this album sold a shedload. On which note, The Eagles: Their Greatest Hits is loosed upon the world and goes on to become the biggest selling record of the 20th Century in America. Seriously, even Thriller couldn’t hold it at bay. The Ramones release the inventively-titled Ramones and Abba give the world “Dancing Queen”, whether we want it or not – it’s the biggest song of the year (“Bohemian Rhapsody” has to make do with the Number 2 slot). Tina decides she’s had enough of Ike and files for divorce, and George Harrison makes legal history by being found guilty of “subconscious plagiarism” for “My Sweet Lord”. The Sex Pistols sign to EMI – that can only go well – and towards the end of the year release the era-defining “Anarchy In The UK”, the best punk single in history bar one (sorry, The Clash, but it’s “God Save The Queen”). Stevie Wonder gives us the absolutely essential Songs In The Key Of Life, and the late, great Tom Petty debuts with Tom Petty And The Heartbreakers. The glorious B-52’s are founded and The New York Dolls call it quits. A fan of mawkish redemption stories held together by terrible music? Oh look, it’s Barbara Streisand and Kris Kristofferson’s unstoppable juggernaut A Star Is Born! Still, at least the end of the year gives us Blondie’s first album, so that’s something (a rather excellent something, in fact). What Did We Nearly End Up Discussing?Nothing. Not, this time, because the covered song is so dominant that its inclusion was inescapable but simply because 1976 was a really crap year for Number 2 singles. Ah well. Can’t win ‘em all. Rankings: 1. The Beatles - "Strawberry Fields Forever" / "Penny Lane" 2. The Kinks - "Lola" 3. Jean Knight - "Mr Big Stuff" 4. The Animals - "We Gotta Get Out Of This Place" 5. Sly And The Family Stone - "Everyday People" 6. The Sweet, "Ballroom Blitz" 7. Petula Clark - "Downtown" 8. Queen, "Killer Queen" 9. Elton John - "Rocket Man (I Think It's Going To Be A Long, Long Time)" 10. Tom Jones - "Delilah" 11. Gloria Gaynor - "Never Can Say Goodbye" 12. Eddie Cochrane – "Three Steps To Heaven" 13. Wings - "Let 'Em In" 14. The Troggs - "Wild Thing" 15. Jimmy Dean - "Big Bad John" 16. Chubby Checker - "Let's Twist Again" 17. Billy J Kramer And The Dakotas - "Do You Want To Know A Secret" Next Week On “We’re Number Two”…Knight of the realm, imperial ruler.
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Dellarigg
AV Clubber
This is a public service announcement - with guitars
Posts: 7,499
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Post by Dellarigg on Jul 13, 2020 12:18:30 GMT -5
In Revolution In The Head, Ian McDonald chastises McCartney for creating an air of 'faintly smarmy pointlessness', and I think that fits this song. He was actually talking about Honey Pie, though.
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Post by Prole Hole on Jul 14, 2020 10:08:09 GMT -5
In Revolution In The Head, Ian McDonald chastises McCartney for creating an air of 'faintly smarmy pointlessness', and I think that fits this song. He was actually talking about Honey Pie, though.
Yeah, it's not an unfair description. There's a view of At The Speed Of Sound which takes it as "a day with the McCartney's" and "Let 'Em In" is the first track of the album, welcoming the listener into their world. It's an exceedingly generous interpretation. "Honey Pie" is a nice genre workout that, while fairly light on its own merits, fits the deeply unsettling and disturbed Side 4 of The White Album. Great book though.
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Post by Prole Hole on Jul 20, 2020 8:07:29 GMT -5
1977 – “Sir Duke”, Stevie Wonder PerfectAnd so we finally arrive at the Stevie Wonder entry. It is, of course, simply impossible to imagine this project existing without the inclusion of Stevie Wonder at some point and there’s been more than a few times he could have qualified but holding off until “Sir Duke” rolls around means… well it means we get to talk about “Sir Duke”. There are times, when one approaches a work of art, that its manifest brilliance is simply self-evident. There is little point asking if, say, the Parthenon in Athens is a greater achievement than Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony or if Hamlet is a greater achievement than The Night Watch. They are all works of art in one form or another and they explicitly, clearly improve the world simply by existing. They are art in its truest sense and their brilliance is self-evident. No art – no human achievement – is universal. There are, doubtless, people who find Hamlet boring or think the Parthenon is just a pile of old rubble. They’d be wrong, but universality isn’t really what great art aspires to nor really, I suppose, should. But great art enhances the word around it, and that’s exactly what “Sir Duke” does. The world is simply a better place by having something so monumentally close to perfection as “Sir Duke” in it. Back in 1967, “Strawberry Fields Forever” / “Penny Lane” was described as the most perfect single of the 60’s and, by extension, quite possibly of all time. However, the distance between “Strawberry Fields Forever” / “Penny Lane” and “Sir Duke” is so monumentally tiny, so staggeringly small, that it must, at its largest, be measured in sub-atomic scales – scientists may not even have a term for such a miniscule distance. It’s that good. This is one preternaturally talented musician singing in praise of another preternaturally talented musician. The result is art. And sometimes when one comes across a piece of art so monumentally impressive it can be hard to know where to even begin with it. And so it is for “Sir Duke”. This was, somehow, Stevie Wonder’s biggest-selling UK hit up until this point. And this didn’t make it to the top of the charts, though it did in the U.S. (and Canada). And that’s OK because, again back in 1967, we commented on the fact that the singles charts indicate nothing beyond popularity – no quality is inferred or implied by a song’s chart position. Still, if ever there was a song that deserved to make it to Number 1, surely it’s “Sir Duke”. Just the opening horns – one of the most joyously recorded sounds in history – is captivating. It’s a riff that repeats throughout the song, frequently enough to allow it to work as a hook, infrequently enough that you anticipate its arrival rather than it being overused. Its inclusion is a masterclass in how to hook an audience in. And that’s true at every single moment of the song. There is a craftsmanship about the way “Sir Duke” is assembled, and what’s so glorious about the song is how clearly on display that craftsmanship is. Even putting Wonder to one side – and let’s not forget that alongside writing this, Wonder produced and arranged it, as well as singing and playing keyboards – the players are simply a roll-call of excellence. Michael Sembello on lead guitar was seventeen when the sessions for Songs In The Key Of Life kicked off. Seventeen! On trumpet we have Steve Madaio, who’s played with everyone from Rod Stewart to Bob Dylan, and Raymond Maldonado, who’s put in time with Blondie and Chic. Maldonado passed away in 1982 of a drugs overdose (Madaio died in 2019) but even if “Sir Duke” had been his only contribution to recorded music it would still be an utterly indelible one. But then there’s nobody on this recording that isn’t true for. Every single second of its run-time is full of the craftsmanship that assembles a truly brilliant piece of art, yet the skill involved here is worn lightly. This isn’t a boastful piece and it’s not a bunch of musicians showing off. Instead it’s the perfect encapsulation of a band, a singer, and a writer all working in perfect synch with each other. There’s technical proficiency of course – so, so much technical proficiency – but technical proficiency in service of inadequate material is a cold, uninteresting thing. This is why so many lead guitarists are staggeringly dull. Just because you can play something doesn’t mean you should if there isn’t reason to. This band though? Every note is perfectly in its right place, and it would be unachievable were the musicians involved not such effortless masters of their instruments. This isn’t the dull, sterile sense of people playing because they can – indeed there may be no other recording that captures sheer joy of being able to do what you do quite so effectively as this song does (although, minor spoiler, there will be a later entry in this series which comes pretty damn close). The delight and elation on this song radiates out of it – untameable and exuberant. And what of Wonder himself? Well. He’s unimpeachable. There are so many Stevie Wonder songs that could be said of – “Signed, Sealed, Delivered”, “Uptight”, “Superstition”, “Higher Ground”, “Golden Lady” and about a bajillion more – where it’s not just the voice, or the writing, or the playing, but something ineffable that simply comes from the recording, an emergent trait that all brilliance has. That’s true here too. This isn’t lyrically deep or politically pointed, it’s a celebration, so if you wanted to criticise “Sir Duke” – why would anyone want to do that? – well, sure, it’s not a deep lyric. It is heartfelt though, and it’s so obvious how much this means to Wonder, even as he name-checks a few other giants of jazz alongside Ellington (specifically, Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald, Glen Miller and Count Basie). And of course “Sir Duke” isn’t actually perfect. There’s a couple of moments of phrasing where the syllable lands in a slightly awkward way, the emphasis falling on the wrong one – when he sings “be one of the things that life just won’t quit” on the second verse the word “the” doesn’t quite feel right. And yet that wonkiness, if anything, improves its perfection. It’s not immaculately constructed, and even the tiny flaws add to the whole. “Just because a record has a groove doesn’t make it hit the groove” sings Wonder on the first verse – it’s a goofy phrase but it’s charming, it’s impossible not to love and again adds to the natural feel of the record. It’s not constructed, its felt. That’s very jazz. But you don’t need to love jazz to love “Sir Duke”. Nor Motown. Nor pop. Nor any one genre. It embraces them all, and more. Wonder captures the ineffable joy of music in this one song and when even your flaws actively work to improve what it is you are doing then, really, there’s nothing left to say. Because there isn’t. “Sir Duke” is, to any meaningful degree and to any extent where this can be said of a work of art, perfect. It really is. It is one of the most perfectly written and recorded pieces of music that has ever been created. It is art, and like all good art it endures, and will carry on enduring. Forever. What Else Happened in 1977?
Kraftwerk’s totemic, and also perfect, Trans-Europa Express, is released. No further explanation necessary, one hopes. Disco continues its dominance with the opening of Studio 54, the release of both the Village People’s debut album and Rose Royce’s “Car Wash”, and disco has the second-biggest song of the year with Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love” (It also has the distinction of being the first hit to have an entirely synthesized backing track). The biggest song of the year is *checks notes* Oh. It’s “Hotel California”. Hmm. Elvis plays his last gig before his death, and, in related news, Elvis dies. It is in a manner that is not, perhaps, the ideal way for a rock and roll legend to go out. David Bowie kicks off the Berlin Trilogy with Low and Fleetwood Mac release one of the biggest albums of all time, Rumours. In a sign of things to come Talking Heads, The Buzzcocks, Elvis Costello and Ian Dury all have their debut releases, and Billy Joel’s best-regarded album, The Stranger, redefines his commercial success. The Sex Pistols inelegantly depart EMI after having released one solitary single, and go on to technically qualify for this project with “God Save The Queen” after some chart jiggery-pokery prevents them getting to Number 1. Marc Bolan is killed in a car crash, Queen give us the drearily self-important “We Are The Champions”, Foreigner are as “Cold As Ice” and both Adam And The Ants and Def Leppard are founded. What Did We Nearly End Up Discussing?“God Save The Queen”, obviously. The sheer stink the single alone caused – never mind everything else around the Pistols – is still, rightly, seen as one of punk's defining moments and re-enforced the idea that music could still prompt real-world reactions. And guess what? Stevie Wonder could have qualified a second time with “I Wish”, which spent longer at Number 2 in the U.S. than it did at Number 1. That’s just showing off, that is. Carly Simon’s Bond theme “Nobody Does It Better” made it to Number 2 in the States, and there’s no doubt she gives a great vocal performance. And in the UK unbearable keyboard masturbators Emmerson, Lake and Palmer made it to Number 2 with “Fanfare For The Common Man”. *shudders* Rankings: 1. The Beatles - "Strawberry Fields Forever" / "Penny Lane" 2. Stevie Wonder - "Sir Duke" 3. The Kinks - "Lola" 4. Jean Knight - "Mr Big Stuff" 5. The Animals - "We Gotta Get Out Of This Place" 6. Sly And The Family Stone - "Everyday People" 7. The Sweet, "Ballroom Blitz" 8. Petula Clark - "Downtown" 9. Queen, "Killer Queen" 10. Elton John - "Rocket Man (I Think It's Going To Be A Long, Long Time)" 11. Tom Jones - "Delilah" 12. Gloria Gaynor - "Never Can Say Goodbye" 13. Eddie Cochrane – "Three Steps To Heaven" 14. Wings - "Let 'Em In" 15. The Troggs - "Wild Thing" 16. Jimmy Dean - "Big Bad John" 17. Chubby Checker - "Let's Twist Again" 18. Billy J Kramer And The Dakotas - "Do You Want To Know A Secret" Next Week On We’re Number Two…
Get out the peroxide!
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Rainbow Rosa
TI Forumite
not gay, just colorful
Posts: 3,604
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Post by Rainbow Rosa on Jul 24, 2020 12:57:42 GMT -5
Yeah, I dunno what else there is to say about "Sir Duke" beyond "it's perfect." I always want to be contrarian and say no, actually, Stevie Wonder has an immense range, he's not just the warm-hearted joy guy, look at, like, "Living for the City." And then I think about it and realize, no, "Living for the City" works because of the joy and earnestness in his voice, and how it makes a couplet like "to find a job is like a haystack needle / cuz where they live / they don't use colored people" aching instead of bitter or cynical. Because he's just that great.
So instead I'll just say how frickin' weird it is that the guitar on this track is played by the "she's a maniac, maaaaniac" guy!
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Post by Floyd D Barber on Jul 24, 2020 13:58:25 GMT -5
I have always loved "Sir Duke" since it was first on the radio, and never, until I read this, knew it's name. It was always the "Da Da Da Daaaaa!" song, and whenever it came on the radio, me and whoever of my dumb redneck buddies was listening with me would always break out in a dumb little happy dance with those first notes. That is how wonderful that song was and is.
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Post by Prole Hole on Jul 26, 2020 10:05:43 GMT -5
I have always loved "Sir Duke" since it was first on the radio, and never, until I read this, knew it's name. It was always the "Da Da Da Daaaaa!" song, and whenever it came on the radio, me and whoever of my dumb redneck buddies was listening with me would always break out in a dumb little happy dance with those first notes. That is how wonderful that song was and is. This column is fun and educational! Well, not everyone gets it right every time I guess...
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Post by Prole Hole on Jul 27, 2020 8:09:15 GMT -5
1978 – “Denis”, BlondieWho's That Girl...The CBGB’s scene has become so mythologised at this point that it’s easy to forget, sometimes, that the bands that came from it were actual, you know, bands. Excellent t-shirts though they make, The Ramones and Blondie tend to get lumped in these days with “fashion” as much as “music” and that’s a real waste. Both bands, along with Talking Heads, came to define the New York new wave scene but they were acts that were being primarily defined in relation to punk, itself incredibly short-lived and already starting to look like yesterday’s genre. That’s not inappropriate, and there are certainly great punk albums to come post-1978 (not least of which, London Calling) but already bands were being set up in, if not opposition, then at the very least in contrast to the punk scene. Punk – mostly a UK movement at this point, for all the importance of progenitors like the Stooges – had a global impact but in many ways that impact was how other bands reacted to it, rather than becoming a part of the movement (if indeed it can be called a movement) itself. This reaction to punk leads to the genre splitting of new wave and post-punk. Generally speaking, new wave tends to be poppier – The Cars, for example – and influenced by punk but with a broader fealty to the idea of pop music. Post-punk tends to be darker and have more direct roots to punk – Joy Division is an obvious point of reference, but so is Public Image Limited, a band which can very obviously draw its roots directly back to punk. Blondie are slightly unusual in that they split the difference. Their first album, released in 1976, clearly has punkier influences – “Rip Her To Shreds” is an absolutely phenomenal song, but the band sound noticeably less polished than anyone who’s heard “Atomic” might reasonably expect, and the whole album is spikier and, well, punkier. 1978’s Plastic Letters keeps some of that edge, and that’s where “Denis” comes in. “Denis” is, of course, a cover version. It shows. Not that the style doesn’t fit the band – it fits them all too well, in fact – but the heavy doo-wop influence isn’t really what anyone thinks of as a classic Blondie sound. It’s not bad, and certainly Debbie Harry has the voice for it, but it sounds like what it is – a pale imitation of something the band can do far better themselves, and indeed already had at this point in their career. Even the follow-up single, “(I’m Always Touched By Your) Presence, Dear”, which retains a faintly 50’s feel to it, feels far more a part of the same spectrum as the band that produced “Rip Her To Shreds” than it does a slightly-more-than-two-minutes-long cover version. Blondie will face this problem again when they get to the top of the charts in 1980 with their dismal version of “The Tide Is High”, embracing a cod-reggae style that’s achingly wrong for a band that had spent the previous two years proving just how brilliant they could be without having to resort to such short-cuts. Blondie have a run of absolutely stellar, classic singles, but “Denis” (and “The Tide Is High”) always feels slightly apart from it. Or maybe that’s unfair. In the popularity contest that is the singles charts “Denis” got to Number 2 in the UK. It was their first international hit, it was Number 1 in both Belgium and the Netherlands and made it to Number 3 in Ireland. Blondie would release another four singles in 1978, none of which performed as well, and it would take 1979’s unstoppable “Heart Of Glass” before the next chart breakthrough arrived. Faced with those statistics, “Denis” looks like a vanguard rather than a failure – establishing the band commercially while they have a couple of try-this singles before finally hitting it out of the park. Still, it’s hard to claim qualitatively that “Denis” is on a par with the best of Blondie. Previous singles “X Offender” (also clearly 50’s influenced) and “Rip Her To Shreds” feel like they have the personality of the band shot through them, and the last single Blondie would release in 1978 would be “Hanging On The Telephone”. It’s straightforwardly brilliant and could not be more Blondie if it tried, even though it’s also a cover version. Next to that “Denis” is a bit lost in the shuffle. And, really, it’s not like it’s a bad song, because it isn’t. There’s a bit of energy to it, and it’s perfectly likeable. Debbie Harry does her thing and you know, she does it well, and this time out it appears to include lapsing into pseudo-French for no readily apparent reason, which is not a part of the original. It gives the song somewhere to go, though given how short “Denis” is it might very well flag up the problem that, by the time Debbie Harry gets to the “French” part the song has already run out of ideas. Still, its fine – a bit “what on Earth are you doing?” but characteristically quirky. Chris Stein is turning in solid work on guitar, there’s some reliably great percussion from Clem Burke… this all sounds like it’s leading up to a criticism, and it’s not really. “It’s fine” isn’t the worst sin a song can commit, not by a long chalk. And, again “Denis” was Blondie’s breakthrough so if for no other reason than giving the band the chance to knock out some stellar singles over the next couple of years it deserves some respect. But yeah. This isn’t Blondie at their best. In fact, Blondie released two albums in 1978. The first, Plastic Letters, is a good album. The second, Parallel Lines, is fucking great. It’s very easy to see the progression of the band with these two albums. Some might accuse Parallel Lines of selling out – it’s not an entirely unfair criticism and certainly it’s noticeably more polished and poppy that either of their previous albums, but it’s also the album where Blondie become the band we all know – the one that can just knock out hit after hit, perfect single after perfect single, and make it look so effortless it almost hurts. Both “Denis” and “(I’m Always Touched By Your) Presence, Dear” are solid little singles and Plastic Letters is eminently listenable. But Parallel Lines is going to gift the world “Hanging On The Telephone”, “One Way Or Another”, “Picture This”, the sheer awesomeness of “Fade Away And Radiate”, “Sunday Girl” and, most importantly of all for the future of the band, “Heart Of Glass”. There’s just no comparison. And this is where Blondie split the new wave / post-punk difference. The first two albums, early in the day though they are, feel far more post-punk even as, timing-wise, they’re basically running in tandem with punk. Parallel Lines onwards feels much more new wave. The band are capable of landing anywhere on that spectrum, and with “Denis” we have the spikiness of post-punk with the pop sensibilities of new wave. And, of course, we have pop music, which in any genre is what Blondie excel at. “Denis” encapsulates the band, even as it fails at being representative. But that’s OK. It forged the path. And there’s great things still to come. What Else Happened in 1978?
Really, it’s hard to overstate how great Parallel Lines is. Blondie’s best album by a country mile, and the moment where they really become something special. But away from Blondie, the Sex Pistols play their final gig and split up – well, Johnny Rotten leaves anyway – and Nancy Spungen dies, leading to Sid Vicious being arrested for her murder. Along similar lines – perhaps a poor choice of phrasing – Keith Moon of The Who dies of an overdose in London. Prince releases his first album – it’s a solo album in every sense, since he does everything on it – and Kate Bush releases her debut, The Kick Inside. The best music mockumentary bar none – The Rutles – is unleashed, alongside its impeccably-observed soundtrack. The Commodores score their first Number 1 with “Three Times A Lady” and Bruce Springsteen gives us Darkness On The Edge Of Town. Kraftwerk continue their unimpeachable run with Die Mensch-Maschine while Talking Heads follow up their debut with More Songs About Buildings And Food. The top five songs of the year are either a nightmare of disco trash or fun from head to toe (depending on where you sit on the “disco sucks” spectrum) being as they are “Stayin’ Alive”, “You’re The One That I Want” (not technically disco, I know), “Y.M.C.A.”, “Rivers Of Babylon” and “Night Fever”. Two songs in the Top Five is pretty great for The Bee-Gees but they shouldn’t get too smug – this is the year the movie Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band is inflicted upon the world. Well, they can’t all be winners. What Did We Nearly End Up Discussing?
Although it peaked at Number 1, The Bee-Gees “How Deep Is Your Love” – apparently it’s not about anal sex – spent three weeks at Number 2 in the U.S. before (ahem) falling down, so they’d qualify if it weren’t such a dreadful song. And the most anaemic sax solo in history meets the most arthritic bassline of all time which combined give us “Baker Street”, which also got to Number 2 in America. Lots of disco songs in the UK qualify, unsurprisingly, including Boney M’s searing historical documentary “Rasputin” (he was Russia’s greatest love machine, in case you didn’t know). And how we managed to avoid “The Smurf Song” by Father Abraham will, frankly, remain a mystery forever… Rankings: 1. The Beatles - "Strawberry Fields Forever" / "Penny Lane" 2. Stevie Wonder - "Sir Duke" 3. The Kinks - "Lola" 4. Jean Knight - "Mr Big Stuff" 5. The Animals - "We Gotta Get Out Of This Place" 6. Sly And The Family Stone - "Everyday People" 7. The Sweet, "Ballroom Blitz" 8. Petula Clark - "Downtown" 9. Queen, "Killer Queen" 10. Blondie, "Denis" 11. Elton John - "Rocket Man (I Think It's Going To Be A Long, Long Time)" 12. Tom Jones - "Delilah" 13. Gloria Gaynor - "Never Can Say Goodbye" 14. Eddie Cochrane – "Three Steps To Heaven" 15. Wings - "Let 'Em In" 16. The Troggs - "Wild Thing" 17. Jimmy Dean - "Big Bad John" 18. Chubby Checker - "Let's Twist Again" 19. Billy J Kramer And The Dakotas - "Do You Want To Know A Secret" Next Week On We’re Number Two…Cromwell’s cronies
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Dellarigg
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Post by Dellarigg on Jul 27, 2020 9:41:27 GMT -5
Time to say again that The Best Of Blondie is the first album I got that I still play to this day. I was given it either for my 10th birthday, or Christmas a few weeks later, by an aunt. I don't know if I'd expressed any interest in them for her to splurge on an entire album, and at that age the world of music, record shops, and albums with loads of songs on them, was all a bit adult and intimidating. Anyway, I quite liked it, though I doubt I paid it attention all the way through.
Always liked Denis, and would still have it very high in my Blondie rankings. When the tambourine (I presume) kicks in is a very satisfying moment.
NB, I knew this was a cover, but I somehow didn't know that Hangin On The Telephone was. Hmm. That's slightly disappointing.
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Post by Prole Hole on Jul 27, 2020 10:29:42 GMT -5
Time to say again that The Best Of Blondie is the first album I got that I still play to this day. I was given it either for my 10th birthday, or Christmas a few weeks later, by an aunt. I don't know if I'd expressed any interest in them for her to splurge on an entire album, and at that age the world of music, record shops, and albums with loads of songs on them, was all a bit adult and intimidating. Anyway, I quite liked it, though I doubt I paid it attention all the way through. Always liked Denis, and would still have it very high in my Blondie rankings. When the tambourine (I presume) kicks in is a very satisfying moment. NB, I knew this was a cover, but I somehow didn't know that Hangin On The Telephone was. Hmm. That's slightly disappointing. They'd go on to do a better telephony-based song with "Call Me" anyway, a song I vividly remember from its original release - it was on the juke-box in a place I'd go to regularly when I was a wee bot and it's one of the few songs I remember hitting me like an absolute steam train the first time I heard it. Sill a favourite of mine all these years later. Re-reading what I wrote about Denis I'm not sure it's clear just how fantastic I think Blondie are. Not everything is perfect but Harry's voice is just such an absolute thing of beauty. What's slightly odd is that there isn't all that many Blondie songs that make full use of it. When she goes all out though you get "Atomic" and when she goes restrained you get "Fade Away And Radiate" (another song I just have an inexpressible, endless love for). Denis - like I say, it's fine but it's not really using her to the best of her abilities. There have been that many Best Of Blondie compilations - out of curiosity what was the tracklisting on it?
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Dellarigg
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Post by Dellarigg on Jul 27, 2020 10:52:22 GMT -5
This one, from 1981. Side 1 Heart Of Glass Denis The Tide Is High In The Flesh Sunday Girl Dreaming Hanging On The TelephoneSide 2 Rapture Picture This Union City Blue (I'm Always Touched By Your) Presence, Dear Call Me Atomic Rip Her To Shreds
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Post by Prole Hole on Jul 27, 2020 10:54:42 GMT -5
This one, from 1981. Side 1 Heart Of Glass Denis The Tide Is High In The Flesh Sunday Girl Dreaming Hanging On The TelephoneSide 2 Rapture Picture This Union City Blue (I'm Always Touched By Your) Presence, Dear Call Me Atomic Rip Her To Shreds
With the exception of The Tide Is High, that's basically just a perfect list of singles. Amazing
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Post by Rainbow Rosa on Jul 27, 2020 13:16:45 GMT -5
Well, not everyone gets it right every time I guess... Oops, I actually really like "Maniac" - those opening drum beats are iconic, and the song itself is a little goofy but honestly kind of cool. Yay for Blondie - although honestly, I've never heard this song before. Weird. I'd like to think that next week's entry comes at my prodding, but it's probably the obvious pick for 1979 anyway (especially if you hate disco). Also, Grease is the antithesis of disco, IMO.
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Post by Prole Hole on Jul 28, 2020 11:55:46 GMT -5
I'd like to think that next week's entry comes at my prodding, but it's probably the obvious pick for 1979 anyway (especially if you hate disco). Two things! I am always happy to be prodded - Gamblin' Telly just prompted a chance to the 1984 entry, but also it was completely inevitable.
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Post by Prole Hole on Aug 3, 2020 5:31:49 GMT -5
1979 – “Oliver’s Army”, Elvis CostelloI look just like Buddy Holly
Key changes are almost always a cheap way of getting a bit more mileage out of a song which has otherwise run its course. The results are almost always unbearably cheesy and corny. Think of, say, “I Just Called To Say I Love You” by Stevie Wonder, one of the very worst key changes in musical history (quite the achievement for such a talented person, but then the 80’s were rough for everyone). It doesn’t add anything, it just cranks it up a few tones in the hopes of wringing a bit more emotion out of the song. Unsuccessfully, as it happens. Or the somehow-even-more-ghastly key-change in Whitney Houston’s cover of “I Will Always Love You”, not a feature of Dolly Parton’s infinitely-superior original. Technically, yes, it’s amazing Houston’s voice can even do that while at the same time being absolutely bloody terrible and, like the Stevie Wonder example, adds nothing to the song except perhaps an excuse to show off. “Oliver’s Army” by contrast, has one of the best key changes in popular music, and why it’s so great gets at the absolute heart of why the song itself is so great. The key change itself is almost invisible. It happens at the point where Costello sings the line “but there’s no danger / it’s a professional career” after Steve Nieve’s chirpily poppy ascending piano line. The key change exactly follows the almost gabbled “with the buyers from the Mersey and the Thames and the Tyne” and it really juices the song, the shift up in key paralleling the move into the simpler clarity and structure of the “but there’s no danger” line at the same time. It’s a genius little move, made especially impressive since there are other little key shifts throughout the song, and it is using one of the standard bits of pop song construction to really push a lyric. Yet the song doesn’t oversell it – when we get to the chorus it discreetly moves back to the original key rather than, as might be more typical, going up again. Or to put it another way, it isn’t over-egged. The reason this is so great is because it demonstrates such a clear, obvious grasp of how to assemble a pop song from off-the-shelf individual components and do something really impressive with them. And that’s what “Oliver’s Army” does throughout its run. It’s not an innovative song in the sense of new approaches or techniques, rather it’s using existing structures to subvert and undercut traditional pop with politics. It’s a new wave song, but it’s as politically astute as just about anything in the punk canon, being as it is about the British army being posted on the streets of Belfast. It’s also straightforward pop music in the Abba mould – Steve Nieve has explicitly acknowledged “Dancing Queen” as an antecedent of his piano work here, one of the key features of the song and one of the driving factors behind its greatness. Costello is in full-on nerd cosplay, in such sharp contrast to the safety-pin clichés of punk or the big-hair-shiny-suits of disco, but the nerd-image is what makes the anger of the song so striking – it’s coming from someone that looks like a maths teacher not a revolutionary. And there’s no mistaking the anger and frustration inherent in the lyrics. That the song invokes the name of Oliver Cromwell, who despised the Irish and remains a hated figure there, and that this invocation doesn’t feel like a contradiction shows what a firm grasp Costello has on the lyric. The song itself is even happy to comment on the absurdity of trying to tackle something as politically charged as British troops in Northern Ireland at the start with its opening four lines, equating the discussion the song is taking part in with lying round late at night talking bollocks while “putting the world to rights”. And then the song goes right ahead and discusses the issues anyway – and again this doesn’t feel like a contradiction. Although, naturally, “Oliver’s Army” isn’t simply concerned with Northern Ireland, but rather also with colonialism, whether by politics or business – given how Thatcherism would develop throughout the 80’s this now looks incredibly prescient and of course 1979 is the year she came to power. It’s an astoundingly detailed lyric for such a short song, in fact, and it covers a lot of ground. The Top 40, pop sensibilities of the music allows the deeply invested politicised nature of the lyric to inveigle its way almost to the top of the charts, at least in the UK. But that’s why it works – the sweetness of the music with the acidity of the lyric combine to make a truly memorable single. “Oliver’s Army” was prevented from getting to Number 1 in the UK by two disco songs – our old friend Gloria Gaynor with her signature hit, “I Will Survive”, and the Bee-Gees with “Tragedy”. In the US it sank without trace and didn’t chart at all, despite the success of the accompanying album Armed Forces. And its Costello’s most popular UK song in fact, at least in terms of chart success – he never made it to Number 1 in the UK, but if your best success is “Oliver’s Army”, well, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a brilliant song. Costello would score a second hit in 1979 with “Accidents Will Happen”. It’s a good song, and it got to Number 28 in the UK (faring fractionally better than “Oliver’s Army” in the US, it scraped in at all of Number 101). But it’s no “Oliver’s Army”, which has gone to become one of Costello’s signature songs, and one of his 1979 stand-outs. But Armed Forces itself is a slight step down from the last album, although as the last album was This Year's Model almost everything would be. Which is not to say Armed Forces is in some way a bad album – it is in fact terrific, and it’s shot through with much the same sensibility as “Oliver’s Army” – pop music used to slyly side politics into the listener’s cross-hairs. It’s cleverly constructed and endlessly re-listenable to anyone who enjoys great pop music with some actual weight to it. But 1979 wasn’t exactly a perfect year for Costello – he famously got into a drunken fight during which he used the N-word to refer to both James Brown and Ray Charles. He apologised almost straight away (and Charles himself eventually forgave Costello and told everyone to just move on already) but it did lasting damage to his image in America. The following year, 1980, saw the release of Get Happy!! which is a great album, if just a little less remarkable than the three that precede it (not least because of its retro vibe). And there’s some great songs on it – but again, nothing that quite lives up to the calibre of “Oliver’s Army”. But then, so few songs actually do. “Oliver’s Army” captures, in one three minute single, everything that makes Costello so compelling as a songwriter and lyricist. We mustn’t in any way forget the contributions of the other band members – Steve Nieve, Bruce Thomas and Pete Thomas all do sterling work and Nick Lowe is a perfect producer – but the sensibility here is all Costello, and he is almost never better than he is here. “Oliver’s Army” is one of the finest singles of the 1970’s and proof, if proof were needed, of just how gifted a songwriter Costello is. What Else Happened in 1979?Personal portable music becomes A Thing for the first time – Sony release the Walkman in Japan. Donna Summer has a frankly amazing year – she becomes the first female artist to have five Top Five hits in one year in the US, the first female artist to have a Number 1 single and album for the second time and the first female artist to be at the top of three charts simultaneously (The Hot 100, the Hot Soul Singles chart and the Billboard 200). Not bad! Elton John becomes the first artist to play Israel and also the first Western artist to tour the USSR. Talking Heads release their best album, Fear Of Music, Sid Vicious dies of a drugs overdose, Public Image Limited release Metal Box, and the whole Disco Demolition Night debacle takes place. Blondie score their first US Number 1 with “Heart of Glass” – it’s the biggest song of the year, though “I Will Survive” is hot on its heels. For fans of genuinely terrible disco Rod Stewart’s “Da Ya Think I’m Sexy” hits the top spot but fear not because it’s also the year of the Bee-Gee’s “Tragedy”. Faith No More are founded and Emerson, Lake and Palmer quit their collective keyboard abuse and go their separate ways. Gary Numan gives us The Pleasure Principal, The Cure debut with Three Imaginary Boys and AC/DC are on a Highway To Hell. U2 release their first album, denim becomes inexplicably popular with Status Quo’s “Whatever You Want” and right at the end of the year The Clash release London Calling. Oh, and one of the best one-hit-wonders of all-time is released – The Knack give us the immortal “My Sharona”. Duh-du-da-da-du- duuuh! What Did We Nearly End Up Discussing?Preceding Elvis Costello in the Number 2 spot was Abba with Chicken Tikka “Chiqititia” and Abba always represent temptation but once again, it’s not their best work. The wold is still disco and we’re only living in it though, so The Village People’s “In The Navy” and M’s punishingly cynical “Pop Muzic” both lurk on the UK horizon. Squeeze’s rather excellent “Cool For Cats” got to Number 2 in the UK, and The Village People are again in contention in the US – “YMCA” hit the Number 2 spot in February of 1979. Dance optional. Rankings: 1. The Beatles - "Strawberry Fields Forever" / "Penny Lane" 2. Stevie Wonder - "Sir Duke" 3. The Kinks - "Lola" 4. Jean Knight - "Mr Big Stuff" 5. Elvis Costello - "Oliver's Army" 6. The Animals - "We Gotta Get Out Of This Place" 7. Sly And The Family Stone - "Everyday People" 8. The Sweet, "Ballroom Blitz" 9. Petula Clark - "Downtown" 10. Queen, "Killer Queen" 11. Blondie, "Denis" 12. Elton John - "Rocket Man (I Think It's Going To Be A Long, Long Time)" 13. Tom Jones - "Delilah" 14. Gloria Gaynor - "Never Can Say Goodbye" 15. Eddie Cochrane – "Three Steps To Heaven" 16. Wings - "Let 'Em In" 17. The Troggs - "Wild Thing" 18. Jimmy Dean - "Big Bad John" 19. Chubby Checker - "Let's Twist Again" 20. Billy J Kramer And The Dakotas - "Do You Want To Know A Secret" Next Time On We’re Number Two…The 1970’s, discussed.
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Dellarigg
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Post by Dellarigg on Aug 3, 2020 5:45:15 GMT -5
Very good song. The Skids' Into The Valley is on much the same subject, or at least the boys being sent to Northern Ireland part of it. They were released around the same time, too, Costello just pipping them. My boys got to number 10, if you ever want to do a We're Number 10 rundown.
Abba, eh? I'll take his word for it, but I always heard a lot of Springsteen in this - a Badlands-like rousing keyboard intro, and a Born To Run 'woh-oh-oh' in the fade. It also follows Bruce's line that his songs are, roughly speaking, blues in the verses and gospel in the chorus, but that goes for a lot of songs, I suppose.
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Post by MyNameIsNoneOfYourGoddamnBusin on Aug 3, 2020 11:03:07 GMT -5
1979 – “Oliver’s Army”, Elvis CostelloCostello would score a second hit in 1979 with “Accidents Will Happen”. It’s a good song, and it got to Number 28 in the UK (faring fractionally better than “Oliver’s Army” in the US, it scraped in at all of Number 101). But it’s no “Oliver’s Army”, which has gone to become one of Costello’s signature songs, and one of his 1979 stand-outs. But Armed Forces itself is a slight step down from the last album, although as the last album was My Aim Is True almost everything would be. This Year's Model came in-between the two and it's probably better than either of them (although I would concede its best song is probably the third best of the best songs on each of them).
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Post by Prole Hole on Aug 3, 2020 16:50:40 GMT -5
1979 – “Oliver’s Army”, Elvis CostelloCostello would score a second hit in 1979 with “Accidents Will Happen”. It’s a good song, and it got to Number 28 in the UK (faring fractionally better than “Oliver’s Army” in the US, it scraped in at all of Number 101). But it’s no “Oliver’s Army”, which has gone to become one of Costello’s signature songs, and one of his 1979 stand-outs. But Armed Forces itself is a slight step down from the last album, although as the last album was My Aim Is True almost everything would be. This Year's Model came in-between the two and it's probably better than either of them (although I would concede its best song is probably the third best of the best songs on each of them). You are right and I'm an idiot - stupid mistake. I meant This Year's Model and I agree - it's better than either. Text amended, thanks.
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Post by Prole Hole on Aug 3, 2020 16:54:39 GMT -5
Very good song. The Skids' Into The Valley is on much the same subject, or at least the boys being sent to Northern Ireland part of it. They were released around the same time, too, Costello just pipping them. My boys got to number 10, if you ever want to do a We're Number 10 rundown. Abba, eh? I'll take his word for it, but I always heard a lot of Springsteen in this - a Badlands-like rousing keyboard intro, and a Born To Run 'woh-oh-oh' in the fade. It also follows Bruce's line that his songs are, roughly speaking, blues in the verses and gospel in the chorus, but that goes for a lot of songs, I suppose. I'm not a big enough Springsteen fan to answer this, but how well-known would he have been in the UK at this point? I know we're post- Born To Run, but the big commercial breakthrough hadn't happened yet, had it? I mean I'm sure he sold less than Abba, because everyone sold less than Abba at this point, but how high-profile was he in the UK?
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Dellarigg
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Post by Dellarigg on Aug 4, 2020 3:13:33 GMT -5
Very good song. The Skids' Into The Valley is on much the same subject, or at least the boys being sent to Northern Ireland part of it. They were released around the same time, too, Costello just pipping them. My boys got to number 10, if you ever want to do a We're Number 10 rundown. Abba, eh? I'll take his word for it, but I always heard a lot of Springsteen in this - a Badlands-like rousing keyboard intro, and a Born To Run 'woh-oh-oh' in the fade. It also follows Bruce's line that his songs are, roughly speaking, blues in the verses and gospel in the chorus, but that goes for a lot of songs, I suppose. I'm not a big enough Springsteen fan to answer this, but how well-known would he have been in the UK at this point? I know we're post- Born To Run, but the big commercial breakthrough hadn't happened yet, had it? I mean I'm sure he sold less than Abba, because everyone sold less than Abba at this point, but how high-profile was he in the UK? He was pretty well-known - Born To Run had been a big impact album buzz-wise (I'm not sure about sales, but I think it did okay). The Hammersmith concerts in '75 were attended by such luminaries as Michael Palin and the nascent Joe Strummer. There was a lot of hype, over which he had mixed feelings, to say the least.
In '79, we're post-Darkness On The Edge Of Town - again, probably not a huge seller over here, and no UK tour, but not obscure and certainly the kind of album other musicians would've known about. I remember reading somewhere that the punks had a sort of respect for him: he wasn't punk, but the lyrics of that album are plugged into real working class life, so he got a pass.
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Post by Prole Hole on Aug 10, 2020 12:27:05 GMT -5
The 1970'sGlam. Disco. Punk. New wave. Heavy metal. Funk. Prog. There are a lot of emergent movements in the 70’s, some of which overlap – the distance between glam and disco is nearly nothing – and some of which clearly don’t. But what all these genres have in common is that they will have legacy going forward. The Long Seventies extend a decent distance into the Eighties, and there’s a fair argument to be made in the case of disco they extend all the way until now, and the multiplicity of genres which develop in the 70’s will, ultimately, go on to have more direct resonance than anything the 60’s produced. The Long Sixties died in 1970. The Long Seventies dig well into the 80’s – probably at least until 1983. The obvious question here, then, is why? What is it about the Seventies that meant their cultural impact has a momentum that the Sixties, despite the mythological placement in the cultural memory, didn’t? At least part of the answer comes from the degree to which these genres feed off each other. The significance in glam and disco being bedfellows is not so much musically – broadly speaking glam tends to be all guitars, drum work and simple production, disco tends to be synthesized, four-on-the-floor beats and over-produced – but how easy it is to move from one to the other because of how adjacent they are. Glam looks shiny, glittery and bright and so does disco. Both genres are designed to be danced to and have little ambition beyond being entertaining. Both genres revel in over-the-top excess primarily for its own value. Both genres embrace gender fluidity and sub-cultures not associated with traditional rock music. So if you’re a music fan in the 70’s and the writing’s on the wall for glam, moving over to a love of disco isn’t so much desirable as practically inevitable. Gloria Gaynor, Donna Summer and Sister Sledge replace Sweet, The Bay City Rollers and T.Rex in the charts but there is enough similarity to easily carry over fans from the earlier style to the latter one. Funk, too, easily pairs with disco and will go on to influence and be absorbed by a whole host of other bands (not least of which, Talking Heads). Glam’s history can only be measured for a period of about three years but it feeds into the emergent disco style and will have its own descendent when we reach the New Romantics – glam leads to disco leads to New Romantics leads to goths and so on. It’s not that these genres musically influence each other, it’s that fans can move from one to the other with minimal fuss. Genre momentum is thus maintained. This isn’t much the case for the dominant genres of the Sixties. Prog rock is directly descended from the psychedelic movement but nobody’s mistaking Tales From Topographic Oceans for Sgt Pepper. Of course, prog went out of its way to break free of the past, merging high and low culture in an effort to elevate rock music to something of the status that classical (and latterly jazz) music enjoyed, if not particularly successfully. But that “break free” is the point - by consciously rejecting the scene that prog initially grew from it also helped kill that scene. It’s not that there are no 70’s psychedelic bands but you can’t construct an argument that psychedelia remains a dominant cultural form in the Seventies. Prog itself didn’t last all that much longer than glam in its core years, and the more socially relevant impact of punk made much of prog look naïve and hopelessly out of touch by comparison, but even so prog too would have some degree of momentum outside of the 70’s – even as the genre disintegrated the groundwork was laid for the likes of Marillion and Pendragon in the 80’s (long hair and overly-serious attitudes also remain intact). These overlapping genres at least partly help explain why the 70’s, musically, has a longer-term impact on the culture that followed than the 60’s. But one style dominates the 70’s over and above any other, and that’s disco. Disco is the big headline from the decade and it’s sometimes easy to forget just what a huge deal it was. Disco has never courted – nor received – much in the way of critical praise but then again, the sheer scale of disco pretty much renders that irrelevant. The singles charts will continue to be dominated by disco into the 80’s and such was disco’s influence that even old-school bands like The Rolling Stones felt the need to flirt with the genre. Plenty of otherwise-successful bands also fell in line – Abba were a straightforward pop band, and indeed the most popular band in the world at that stage, but even they threw out Voulez-Vous, their disco album. It’s not their best work, because of course it isn’t – they’re not a disco band, they’re a pop band playing at disco. Abba’s strength, especially in the second half of their career, is their ability to merge great pop songs with grown-up, adult, but often melancholic emotional content and that’s not exactly a clean match to disco. Yet still they felt the need to do it. Voulez-Vous is, in fact, the only Abba album not better than its predecessor, and disco was a one-and-done deal for them. Abandoning the disco approach led to Super Trouper, which is an extremely good album, and The Visitors, which is simply genius and one of the best albums of the 80’s (and its failure to be recognised as such does them a genuine disservice). But such is disco’s power that people still think of Abba as a disco band, even although they’re quite palpably not. Disco consumed everything in its path and, like it or loathe it, it reigned supreme. Disco’s scale, though, could also be a curse. The Bee-Gee’s had a perfectly decent career prior to “Jive Talking” – not, to be fair, spectacularly interesting but you know, they were doing alright. Then along comes disco, and specifically Saturday Night Fever – the biggest selling album in the U.S. and the UK in 1978 – and its game over for the folk-band version and hello disco for ever more. The Bee-Gees career couldn’t really have soared any higher – both as a band and as individual members – but it also meant that they would forever be seen as a disco band. And no matter how hard they tried to push back against it disco would be how they were defined, to the extent that there were plenty of people who had no idea they had a decade-long career before disco came along. From a sales perspective this could hardly be better news, but as musicians it crucially limited what the band could get away with, and the “death” of disco, when (and if) it eventually arrived, meant that it took a lot of bands down with them. The Bee-Gees were luckier than most – the 80’s weren’t a great time for them though at least they had an ongoing career, but the 70’s would be where they were forever fixed in the public consciousness and it would forever limit how they are seen. And yet there’s an inherent problem with the scale of disco. Because disco is, by design, something light and disposable it also means that, if one wants something a bit more intelligent in one’s music, then we must turn away from the dominant form. Disco is a crucial component in the gay rights movement in America, but disco music itself is not particularly political, or at least not directly. Inclusiveness and a vague, fuzzy sense of belonging are certainly a component of disco but for anything more meaningful than “let’s be nice” or a standard set of off-the-peg pop sentiments disco simply isn’t going to cut it. We turn, therefore, to punk and its two bastard children, new wave and post-punk. Here there’s a lot more to get one’s teeth into – politics, angst, anger and frustration are key elements of all three genres and speak to a far more socially aware and politically active audience, and crucially one coming from a working class perspective. And yet, for all the significance of punk and its off-shoots in terms of sales there’s simply no competition – disco wins hands down. Which means a lot of genuinely outstanding and important music gets pushed to the margins. Fine, we can talk about the Sex Pistols or the Clash and obviously they had big commercial success but they’re pretty much only the tip of the punk iceberg and many equally worthy bands like Stiff Little Fingers or X-Ray Spex tend to get rather lost in the shuffle. One of the things the singles charts start to suffer from in the mid-to-late 70’s is a lack of diversity. Punk is there, but it’s comparatively marginal, despite those two headline acts. The biggest selling UK single of 1977, the year of Never Mind The Bollocks… Here’s The Sex Pistols, is Wings with “Mull of Kintyre” – it remains the biggest-selling non-charity single of all time and it’s not exactly a scream of dissatisfaction against the ruling classes. In 1978 it’s “Rivers Of Babylon” by Boney M (it got to Number 30 in the US, their only significant chart entry). Four of the top five biggest selling singles of 1979 – the year of London Calling – were disco, “I Will Survive”, “Pop Muzik”, “Born To Be Alive” and “Hot Stuff”. The other one is Blondie’s “Heart Of Glass”, which is disco adjacent. So even at the highest moments of punk’s success they can’t come to within sniffing distance of disco, and in 1977 it gets outflanked by a bucolic Scottish ballad. That’s deeply unfortunate. This will shift a bit when we get to 1980, but 1980 is, as we shall see, a strange year for the charts in any case. Meanwhile, elsewhere, heavy metal simply gets on with the business of being heavy metal. It’s long-lasting, extremely dedicated fandom helps metal to escape the gravity of the 70’s but many of the genre’s best works lie deep within those ten years. Black Sabbath’s debut nicely pairs with the start of the decade, released as it is in 1970. Describing the album as “dark” or “brooding” seems obvious yet it’s still true, and much of Black Sabbath encapsulates exactly what it is about the genre that’s so beloved. It’s an excellent Rosetta Stone for a genre that can seem obscure to outsiders and an easy way in. Paranoid would follow later the same year, buoyed by the success of the single of the same name which reached Number 4 in the UK singles charts and Number 61 in the US. It’s an even better album – in fact it’s arguably the best heavy metal album of the 70’s – but as with a lot of heavy metal bands, Black Sabbath had little use for the popularity contest that was the singles charts and shied away from singles releases in order to remain closer to their real fans rather than the ever-wavering attention of the average single buyer. At the other end of the decade Mötorhead’s Overkill showed that, even after ten years there was plenty of life in the genre, and the 80’s would go on to be a key period for metal bands. But in the 70’s metal, ironically, just quietly got on with being what it was, and that hard-core fan-base would keep its fortunes buoyant. Sales – obviously – weren’t at disco’s levels but heavy metal’s slight remove from the mainstream meant it was also able to survive the 70’s when other styles petered out and had to change. You could credibly release an album and call it heavy metal in 1986 – good luck if you tried the same thing and called it disco. Metal’s sales were smaller but its shelf-life considerably longer. And that’s the thing with disco – its might can only carry on for so long. Exactly how long that is we will explore as this series continues but as the 1970’s bow out it rules over everything. That momentum, leading us into the Eighties, is beginning to falter, as post-punk, new wave and, most significantly, the New Romantic movement start to carve out a different path. And there are plenty of other genres that integrated. Disco, as we’ve already discussed, will morph and change into other forms that keep the essence of the genre but migrates into other areas. It will change to survive and integrate into other musical forms. The 1980’s will see more genres emerge, more artists who move in other directions, but the impact of the 70’s will continue to resonate. There are titans to come. It will be interesting to see just where they come from, and just how much of the past they will come to rely on. Next Week On We're Number Two...
Relocating to a conurbation that is correct for this individual
Instrumentation for insects!
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