Naked City - John Zorn

I have spent the better part of this week being tugged in two directions.

First, there's been mountains of psychic inertia created by this god-awful Java code I've been forced to attempt to bring to life. It's textbook my-first-Java software ickyness. Second, as the week goes on I'm gettin' more excited by the prospect of the Superbowl.

So, what to listen to that brings this all together? Naked City is the record. Something that combines elements of sonic ugliness as well as true beauty. Zorn's jump-cut brew of blues, funk, straight jazz, industrial, metal and jazz freakout is the musical Swiss Army knife. The blood-letting scream vocals of Yamatsuka Eye perfectly describe both my headstate during that nasty code spelunking and, hopefully, the confusion that will reign in Jake Delhomme's head this Sunday as the Patriots defense moves in.

The original folk music riotgrrl gets back to her lo-fi roots on Educated Guess. The band is gone. It's just the girl, the guitar, the voice, the attitude.

But..I don't really feel like talking about any of that stuff. I mean, the songs are fantastic. Amidst the usual (if you can actually apply that word to Ani) feminist, anti-corporate and humanist messages is something new: songs of sadness and despair. Musings on the breakup of her marriage? Probably. All of the tunes are built on simple layers of Ani's distinctive voice and angular, almost jazzy guitar. Weird mouth noises float in here and here from all directions. The guitar is lightly stroked at one moment, punished the next. Bonus points for recording the whole thing on an old reel-to-reel.

What I really wanna talk about is the artwork. It just pushes this release over the top. Just plain outstanding. The booklet surrounds the lyrics sheets with odd photos, poetry and drawings. Sure, when you are the company (Righteous Babe Records) you can get the liner notes you want. But this is no control thing. No, it's just another of the many ways DiFranco makes a connection with her fans. Yep, she cares...and this aesthetic gesture makes the point beautifully.

I got to wondering what other people thought of this stuff. One of the first reviews I stumbled upon was not for this record but for 2001's Revelling/Reckoning. The reviewer hated the package: it was pretentious and 'difficult to handle and store'.

Wow. How times have changed. An album's lyric sheets and supporting artwork used to be something to celebrate. Now we only care about the functionality of the object?

See, I love this package so much that it just reinforces my belief that I'll never be satisfied with a fully downloaded musical universe. Yea, you can snag the artwork from a website: wallpaper, backgrounds, icons, etc...but it's not the same. There's no soul to it. The artist didn't put a package together for you.

I can hold this thing in my hands. Heck, it even smells good.

Hey, what do I know? Maybe my lament about the CD age loss of album cover art is just a cry wasted in the face of unstoppable 'progress'. But if the day comes when music is no longer sold as a physical object, we will all be diminished.

Blah, blah, blah! New Hampshire voters brave the cold to get out there and vote. Cripes, as if normally we'd be cowering in our homes waiting for the thaw to arrive.

Nosireee...we stepped out into the frigid air, headed into the voting booth...and, with one little blob of black ink (paper ballots in my town) exorcised the demons of non-stop campaign ads on the tube.

At least I can watch the 6pm news tonight without going insane. Well...except of course the lead story...which will be how the citizens of New Hampshire "Braved The Cold". Gees, I hope that snow doesn't start until after the poles close.

I just got back from a lovely trip to Home Depot. Just looking for a coupla things: a carpenter's square, a Windex refill and maybe some Supermelt.

I could't find much in the way of Supermelt, though I did stumble across a single pail of Depot brand calcium chloride. Works for me. Then off to the tool bin for the carpenter's square. Found two of those suckers. One small, one large..both aluminum. Perfect.

Off to the checkout (we happily found the Windex on the way).

Well guess what? No checkouts were open (not counting the self-serve thing that I ain't goin' near). As we Walk back toward the 'service' desk I notice a small line forming there. Yep, it's the only 'checkout' open. Several people are there with those big cart/wood-luggin' contraptions. There's also two very confused people behind the counter staring alternately at the some yellow receipt things and the cash register/computer. We stand there for about two more minutes or so. The confused interactions it the register continue...

The two carpenter's squares and the bottle of Windex fit nicely on top of the giant bucket 'o calcium chloride...where I left them in the middle of the damned isle.I won't be coming back.

Spotted in the parking lot between the Peterborough Diner and the Toadstool Bookshop: a blue Toyota Prius with vanity plate: "TreeHug".

Nice.

A short e-conversation I had a while back centered on the merits of a certain rock band. Not the particulars or anything, just a plain old "love 'em" vs. "don't" kind of thing. Actually, "don't love 'em" isn't quite right. It was more like "don't understand the attraction".

Being the musical evangelist that I am (and aren't we all...just a little bit?), I decided to describe, as concretely as possible, why I like this band's music.

Now, of course I knew this that this was going to be no easy task. Describing in words what is inherently abstract is tough enough. The added requirement, why I like it...well, that's something else. I let the idea ferment in my head for a few days. Procrastination? No, just my way of giving my subconscious time to have its say.

Except that's not really what happened.

What did happen was that I found this great article by author Louis Menand about "the art of short fiction". A critical review of The Early Stories (a collection of John Updike's early short fiction), it's introduced in the most ingenious way: a parallel is constructed between the 'invisible' technique behind the professional golf swing and the effect that an author is trying to create. "The effect" is that moment when the reader "gets it"...the moment of "ahhh". So, just as each little mechanical element serves to support the swing, each word in the short story is there to contribute to "the effect".

What's this have to do with music? Menard goes on to say that this effect is tough to describe...but it is felt by the reader(or at least that's the author's hope). James Joyce referred to the effect as an epiphany. In his words, "...a revelation of the whatness of a thing".

The whatness of a thing.

Yep, that's what I want to describe. It's an elusive topic. In the past I've put the question "Why does that sound good to me?" down on my writing to-do list. That's as far as it ever gets though...mostly because it has always seemed like a huge undertaking, with too much mental and emotional inertia.

What I want to do now is describe the 'whatness' of the music of the band Rush. The word 'music' is underlined because that'll be the focus here. I'm not a lyrics guy when it comes to most rock music and Rush is no exception. Though Neil Peart is known for his lyric writing (and of course: spectacular drumming) the music is what I'm there for.

Before I get to the specifics I'd like to try to put into words the musical events (epiphanies?) that I listen for: you should know their whatness.

Despite my musical background (started off with violin and sax, then played guitar for over twenty years with almost ten years of jazz improvisation formal training), I almost never think about music in an analytical way. I don't really care about key, time signature, major, minor, etc. No, I think about music visually. Yep, when I close my eyes...pictures appear. Call them musical landscapes.

Warning: this is a little weird.

The bits of a tune that remain 'constant', that form the foundation (rhythm guitar, bass, any kind of repeat) are seen as the surface of a body of water. This surface can have all sorts of textures: smooth & glassy (or mat), rough, choppy, wavy, jagged - depending on what the foundation is doing.

The melodic parts of the music show up as lines stretching over the lake's surface. These lines can form any and all shapes in three-dimensional space and can be as close to or as far away from the surface as 'necessary' (things like tension, release & energy of the music have influence over this) and project shadows down to it.

Note: I told you this was weird.

Depending upon what's going on in the music, any element can switch its function from 'foundation' to 'line' or vice versa.

Note: this does not involve drugs of any kind.

That's it. Well...almost. What's missing is what makes these things 'good'. What I tend to listen for are scenarios where the elements interact with one another - where the shadow(s) projected down upon the surface change the surface in some way.

Ok, back to earth for some concrete examples (sort of).

Since the Rush catalog is quite large, and since I've only got one more pencil left in my Dixon/Ticonderoga box, I'll have to distill the songlist down to a manageable length.

One title: "La Villa Strangiato" from Hemispheres.

La Villa Strangiato

Subtitled "An Exercise in Self-Indulgence", this tune clocks in at 9 minutes and 35 seconds of pure rock instrumental fun.

After a short Spanish guitar introduction an electric guitar arpeggio repeats (the 'surface'). Various synth figures and orchestral bells 'comment' on the guitar. The 'surface' gains some texture as a repeated hi-hat pattern joins in to boost the intensity. The bass jumps in with the hi-hat (with kick drum soon to follow) to imply a space for some power chords. A few cycles later, when the tension is nearly unbearable, those chords do show up...setting off the first (of several) mini-climaxes of the song.

Now we're into the 'verses'. While Peart plays a supporting ride pattern, Alex plays the 'theme' of the song. Geddy Lee's bass, instead of merely holding up the bottom end, mirrors the guitar theme...in a mutant sort of way.

A few extended guitar chords serve as an introduction to the next section...where the skeletal drums and periodic bass notes (Taurus Pedals?) provide plenty of room for an extended guitar solo that builds and builds and builds...

...Until it stops to begin a muted staccato pattern that again builds to...

A 'tumbling' section that both frenzied and controlled. It's like a rock band falling down the stairs. Gracefully.

Some call & response, some start and stop...and then we begin a highly modified restatement of the original 'verses', which morphs into some wild and crazy bass/drum unison bits.

A few more nearly indescribable rhythmic chord workouts and we're again back to the final theme revisit before the song's finale is encountered - where again descending shards of chords build monumental amounts of energy. This 'exercise in self-indulgence' ends in a flurry of unison bass and snare drum notes followed by one last clipped guitar chord.

What I love about this music (besides the 'visual' aspect, that I can't begin to describe) is the sense of shared adventure. Sure, all bands play together. But not all bands have togetherness. Rush puts together musics that overflows with enthusiasm for rock's possibilities. Yes, the players are supposed to be 'virtuosos'. Who cares?! What matters is results: how those air molecules are wiggled.

Other candidates for adventures with Rush (though I don't want to turn this into a "what's your favorite" kinda thing) are "Free Will" from Permanent Waves, "YYZ" from the breakthrough record Moving Pictures and the introduction to the epic 2112. Lots and lots of textured surfaces to be explored.

Well, there. How I perceive music (sort of), some Rush epiphanies, and an extension to everybody's vocabulary: whatness.

(Special thanks to fellow Blogcritic and Rush fan Tom Johnson and uber-Blogcritic (and future Rush fan) Eric Olsen for starting the e-conversion that pushed me toward this essay).

The Presidents Of The United States Of America

Just a few days to go up here. Every danged night the phone rings off the hook.

Dean. Edwards. Cam Neely? No thank you, I do not wish to attend a fund raiser for John Kerry.

Yikes! Let me outa here!!

This is the kind of garbage published about Linux (and other technology issues) that makes me nuts.

On CNN.com there's yet another article (via Reuters) about how the various Linux desktops aren't quite ready for prime time. While some of the points made are based on facts, others are complete junk:

As never before, corporate customers are turning to Linux software instead of Microsoft Windows to run big business operations. Now, if only they could get the word processor's basic "cut and paste" feature to work.

What the hey?!! Nowhere else in the article is this supposed word processing program mentioned. They go on further to quote a developer (who spoke at the Linuxworld trade show) completely out of context:

"It works 98 percent of the time. But it's the 2 percent of the time it doesn't that kills you," Jeremy White, a leading developer of Linux applications, told an audience of network administrators.

Stuff like this, as an old friend of mine used to say, chaps my ass. Linux is made to sound like it's back at the old Windows 3.1 stability level.

The issues of interoperability with Office products are true problems that are being worked out, but propaganda like this is shameful.

The Grand Pecking Order - Oysterhead

Further proof the 'supergroups' are almost never super.

I was so looking forward to this record after hearing about the possibility of Copeland, Claypool and Anastasio getting together. I was so disappointed in the results. It's in my listening pile today because...well, it still bugs me three years later that it just isn't great. So I take it out, give a listen and say "Yep, still not so hot".

What I was expecting was twisted and amazing instrumentals. What I got was watered down Primus and Phish. Bleah.

I'm still kinda mad at Joe Strummer.

I mean, did the guy have to kick off so early? He was still making great music! The Mescaleros were weaving together some unique and shakin' stuff.

Couldn't it have been Mr. Rotten? Don't they discuss this stuff at the AgeingPunkIcons meetings? Surely they talked about the punk caricature that Lydon has become? Cripes, look at what's happened since Joe's death: Rotten's gonna be on a reality TV show! Yep, it'll be "I'm A Celebrity...Get Me Out Of Here!" for the 'ole snarlin' one. What's next? Do we have to watch him sitting around in his boxers chomping down a plate of sausages while looking at Young Ones reruns?

Man, this world sho' gone crazy.

Yea, well...life's hard & it sure ain't fair. So I guess that, in addition to all those insanely great Only Band That Matters memories...I'll always have Joe Strummer's Mescaleros era.

Joe had pretty much finished this thing up when he passed away. It's the usual burbling stew of pop, rock, reggae, hip-hop, electronica, folk, country and funk. You'd almost think that music sporting so many sound influences might be a little too eclectic for its own good. That's not the case here. Somehow Strummer was able to pull all of that stuff together and make it behave.

Streetcore opens with the Billy Bragg-meets-Clash "Coma Girl" and never lets up. There's the tripped-out reggae of "Get Down Moses", the rising anthem of "Ramshackle Day Parade", a Combat Rock-era "All In A Day" and a Dylan-ish "Burnin' Streets". Part groove, part dirge, "Midnight Jam' is the oddest thing here. It's a sort of Mescalero dub...that Joe might have written after listening to Neil Young's Greendale (well, you know...if he hadn't died before that record came out). Ah, and I shouldn't forget the cover of Marley's "Redemption Song": very simple, very nice. By the way, check out the "Redemption Song" duet that Strummer and Cash did. The mp3 can be found at strummersite.com and is also available on Cash's UnEarthed box set.

In a way, Streetcore reminds me of Warren Zevon's The Wind...except of course that it wasn't planned. Somehow the slow songs are sadder and maybe a touch more meaningful. This is especially true of "Long Shadow", a country ballad & Johnny Cash tribute co-written and performed with Tom Waits' alum Smokey Hormel.

The whole mess ends with the Bobby Charles tune "Silver and Gold". With lines like "..I got to hurry up before I grow too old", it's a fitting end piece to Strummer's last statement.

From the cool & creepy photo of the record left on Elvis' turntable the day he died ("The Stamps") to the beautiful and somewhat bittersweet picture of Johnny Cash and June carter, Annie Leibovitz' American Music is just filled to overflowing with photo portraits of a wide range of musical Americana.

Mind you, this is not just "Americana" in the old-timey, tradition sense...as folks like Beck, Michael Stipe and Dr. Dre make appearances.

Very cool stuff.

My favorite is the picture of Tom Waits hunched over a calliope like the mad musical scientist that his is.

Well, well, well...I guess the emperor had no clothes after all.

Have a nice vacation y'all.

I pride myself on knowing a fair amount about music. Of course, what this really means is that I've spent way too many hours of my life sitting around listening to records (while no doubt thumbing through some rock publication...Rolling Stone, Creem, etc.)

What you might not know is that I'm also quite the opera buff. Oh yes, it's true. Here are some of my all-time favorite moments in the genre:

• Charles Winchester (during an episode of M*A*S*H) tries to spend a moment of solitude by listening to some Caruso in the swamp
• Wilhelmenia Fernandez sings the aria from Catalani's "La Wally" in the movie Diva
• "Sword & Magic Helmet"
• Cecilia Bartoli doing Mozart Arias on an "All Things Considered" radio segment
• Philip Glass' "Akhnaten", which is the one and only opera I've seen live

What does this have to do with our young Mr. Groban? Well, let's just say that while I'm no expert, I know a good voice when I hear one.

Like his female counterparts Charlotte Church and Sarah Brightman, Groban gets a lot of bad press from the "real opera" folks for being a pretender: his music not being 'pure'. So what?! There are moments of beauty on this record ("Il Postino",for one) that should not be dismissed because Groban isn't the "real thing".

Sure, most of Closer doesn't contain traditional opera. I'm not sure what some of it is. There's no easy pigeonhole for opera-tinged vocals mixed with orchestration, Spanish guitar, percussion and rock drumming. No matter. The Italian songs are romantic and engrossing. The tunes sung in English don't do as much for me, edging a little too close to Celine Dionisms. There's even one selection done in French ("Hymne a L'Amour"). Rounding out the programme is the world-ly "Never Let Go", done with Deep Forest.

Maybe not an earth-shattering collection of songs here, but the voice is definitely there. I'd love to hear Groban release some material with completely stripped down arrangements. Remove the orchestration and pop elements and see what that voice can do.

It might not be pure opera...but it would be pure.

Comics I have known and loved: Cheech & Chong, George Carlin, Steve Martin.

Sure, there were others...but these were the ones whose records we wore out. Yes, everybody had a copy of Cheech & Chong's Big Bamboo, Carlin's Class Clown or Occupation Foole, and of course Steve Martin's Let's Get Small and A Wild and Crazy Guy.

As I sketched out the above list I got to thinking about just how huge these guys were. In their prime their impact on popular culture was enormous. Heck, Steve Martin was practically a rock star. Everybody walked around doing their favorite "get small" bits as well as stuff from Martin's SNL characters, my favorites being the Festrunk Brothers ("Wild and Crazy Guys") and Theodoric of York, Medieval Barber.

It's got to be tough for today's comic. Sure, the club scene is still alive but as far as making it big goes, the sheer size and breadth of today's entertainment choices (regular TV, pay TV, movies, gaming, internet) can easily drown out all but the most talented (and maybe lucky) performer. It makes me wonder if comedy is relevant anymore, ya know? Does it matter?

Well, the answer to that question is "What kind of a stupid question is that?!" Of course it matters! Just because our pop culture has been diluted does not mean that there isn't somethin' funny going on. Heck, in some cases, that dilution is the funny thing ("Reality" TV, for instance).

So in these amazing and edgy times, what better way to spend a subzero evening than with the Don Rickles of the K-9 world: Triumph the Insult Comic Dog. Sure, Come Poop With Me is full of doggie sex and poop jokes. There are also randy cabaret tunes ("Underage Bichon"), happy & naughty sing-alongs ("Cats Are *****"), ridiculous phone calls ("Call To Kennel") and plain old snarling put-downs. Some of the material is duplicated on the bonus live DVD. In particular, check out the appearance of Jack Black on "Bob Barker". The audio is merely funny, the live video will make you poop. The show ends with a kind of Triumph-ized version of "We Are The World" called "Together In Pooping".

So there, an hour or so spent laughing & tryin' to not spill hot tea on my crotch. Pure escapism? Yep. It beats "Survivor".

Pet Sounds - The Beach Boys

Look, it's fricken' ten degrees below zero out there right now. The wind is blowing between 15 and 30 miles an hour.

It's just a little chilly. I needed something to remind me of summer (and for some reason I couldn't find any of my Buffett cds.

Anybody got any other warm weather records? Send 'em my way.

Many (most?) recent articles concerning the outsourcing of technology jobs focus on the personal aspects. That is, how individuals are affected. A short Salon.com piece takes on the issue from a different angle: the loss of the foundations of technology research.

The technology industry converts new ideas into companies. The pool of engineers, and engineering students, and university programs training the students are the incubators that create these ideas. It is a symbiotic relationship: Engineers need companies to provide jobs, and investors need engineers to come up with the concepts to invest in. Companies should therefore consider engineering salaries an investment more than an expense. Historically it has been one of their best investments.

Now, I can't say that everything in this article lies on solid ground. In particular, I sort of doubt we'll be outsourcing the development of defense-related technologies. Other than that, it's all food for thought.

It's really too early to say what the end result off all of this will be...but it makes for interesting discussions.

The Cage - Tygers of Pan Tang

This morning I was trying to figure out what to listen to on the way to work...when my eyes fell upon this Tygers of Pan Tang thing. It's one of my stepson's cds but hey, he was stupid enough to leave it at home (college kids tend to prefer mp3s over cds for the 'convenience' factor....don't get me started) so I swiped it!

Wow, which came first: Bon Jovi and Def Leppard...or Tygers of Pan Tang? I'm not familiar with the history of this group but they sure have that 80's sound. Their version of "Love Potion No. 9" is a giggler...but the rest is solid & fun to listen to.

Dang, it was cold around here this weekend. If you want some cheap entertainment you can scan the local papers and television for the endless articles on the weather. It's not only cold, it's dangerously cold!! Yea, whatever. You get the feeling that everybody around here just stays in, cranks up the Playstation and vegs out.

Well, me & the wife decided to take a drive over to Peterborough to have lunch and check out the bookstore. I must say, it was very cool to see all the activity over there. These people are not scared off by a little cold weather. The Peterborough Diner was packed, as was the Toadstool Bookshop.

Maybe it's time to move out into the sticks. Hmmm.

I can't believe I'm writing this...but I watched Donald Trump's "The Apprentice" last night...and I enjoyed it.

I can no longer give fellow BlogCritic Tom Johnson crap for watching reality TV. I've been sucked in.

My head hangs in shame.

My recent Blue Oyster Cult post has once again caused me to revisit some concert experiences of yore. In particular, the warmup bands: great ones and icky ones. We've all been to shows like these. In the 'great' case, a band comes along you've never heard of and makes such an impression that you're runnin' to the record store the very next day. When the opener goes bad though...well, sometimes it's almost ambarassing.

Great

Boston. Opener: Sammy Hagar (Augusta Civic Center, Augusta, ME)

This was on Boston's "Don't Look Back" tour. Holy cow, were we all psyched to see Boston. They were the rock gods of the day. I hadn't heard of Sammy Hagar at the point in my life (though a friend did have some Montrose records, but the connection escaped me) but was certainly willing to give the guy a chance. Man, did he rock. I never really liked Hagar as part of Van Halen but if you check out his very early live material you'll hear some great stuff.

Cheap Trick. Opener: Knots & Crosses (Club Casino, Hampton Beach, NH)

I've mentioned this group before. Totally unknown to me at the time, they came out and just shocked the Cheap Trick crowd into submission.

Joe Jackson. Opener: Jill Sobule (Orpheum Theatre, Boston, MA)

On Jackson's "Laughter and Lust" tour, a show right in the middle of a summer heatwave. In Boston's Orpheum Theatre. With no air conditioning. In the balcony. I was zoning out a little from the heat but Jill Sobule's set brought me right back to earth. By the time "I Kissed A Girl" was played everybody in our section was whispering things like "wow! who is this?!!"

Not So Great

The Tubes. Opener: Frankie & The Knockouts (Richfield Coliseum, Cleveland, OH)

This was during the "Completion Backward Principle" tour. I suppose you could call The Tubes "power pop", but that's not quite right. In any event Frankie & The Knockouts were a bad choice. There were some people yellin' some pretty nasty things during this set.

The Clash. Opener: ...some chicks with shakers, or something (Cape Cod Coliseum, South Yarmouth, MA)

Good gawd, make 'em stop. I really wish I could remember the name of this group. What I do remember is mostly percussion, shouted vocals (like Tony Basil on acid) and the rain of paper cups & other stuff being thrown from the crowd. They didn't last for more than half an hour, and told us to fuck off as they left the stage.

Black Sabbath. Opener: The Dogs (Bangor Civic Center, Bangor, Me)

"Heaven and Hell" tour. The opener was supposed to be "Riot", but something went wrong there so the promoter had to scramble. They got local act The Dogs to take the slot. I felt bad for them. I'd seen them several times before and liked 'em. They were very much into bands like Cheap Trick and the Beatles and played a shimmery kind of pop music full of those influences. The problem was that the arena was full of males young and old ready to hear Ronnie James Dio, Iommi & company crush some bones to powder. It wasn't very pretty.

Neu! 75 - Neu

What to call this kinda music? Do a little research and you'll see stuff like: Krautrock, cosmic punk, ambient, moody, art rock, minimalist, etc. Heck, when I popped this disc into my cdrom drive the CDMax selection dialog came up with three entries with musical genres of "misc", "new age", and "rock". I guess there's people out there as confused as me.

No matter the label, Neu had a way of getting the absolute most out of a single chord. Perfect for this morning's beautiful, incredibly sunny and below zero drive to work.

Plus, their drummer's name was Klaus Dinger...which always cracks me up.

It is now offically winter in the northeast as the tv weather people are doing nothing but yammering on and on about the dangerous windchill.

Gees, it's not like we're living in Dallas or something. Dunno why this bugs me...you just think they'd get used to it or somethin'.

The other day, while dusting off the cobwebs on some memories of life in the 1970's (the ZZ Top post), I got to thinking about my first time.

My first 'real' rock concert experience, that is.

Mine was back sometime in the winter of 1977. The place was the Augusta Civic Center, Augusta, Maine. The band was Blue Oyster Cult. Looking back on it, the experience was both funny and surreal.

Funny because I couldn't drive yet. So my parents had to drop me and my friend Cindy off in front of the place (I think they spent the next four hours hanging out at a Howard Johnsons).

Surreal because, for some insane reason, the Civic Center staff opened only one set of doors off to the left of the main entrance. The result was predictable: a huge crowd smoooshing up against the wall near those doors.

Surreal because me & Cindy got pinned between the crowd and that wall. I got a little freaked out. Cindy got a sprained arm.

Funny because I had never seen so many freaks assembled in one location. Gees, it was like a circus.

Funny and surreal because I'd never seen guys peeing in bathroom sinks before.

Surreal because this was the first time I'd experienced rock music at that volume. The first time you hear a kick drum through a big PA like that the resultant 'slam' is a little bit nauseating.

Funny because, when they announced the warmpup band (Be Bop Deluxe), I thought that Blue Oyster Cult wasn't able to make it and this was our substitute. Hey, nobody ever told me about this warmpup act stuff!

Surreal because this was the first time I'd ever smelled pot smoke...and let me tell you, back in the 70's they used to spark up a whole lotta the demon weed at concerts!

Surreal because Blue Oyster Cult was touring on the Spectres album. This meant that they had an enourmous light show with wrist-mounted lazers, lazers shooting up from the stage and, coolest of all, a lazer show (during "Godzilla") that literally filled the volume of the arena with white lazer beams. I remember having to look straight down with my eyes protected by both of my arms. (It wasn't too long after that that they had to tone down the show for safety reasons).

Funny because me & Cindy got up to leave when the band left the stage for the first time. We actually did leave...and never heard them play "Don't Fear The Reaper". Hey, nobody ever told me about this 'encore' stuff!

So that's it. Mom & dad were waiting outside. They drove us home while we marvelled at the ringing in our ears, that amazing (and somewhat painful) light show and just how bad our clothes reeked of pot smoke.

So, do you remember your first time?

If you ever get a chance to see the movie Dazed And Confused you'll be treated to a pretty accurate depiction of a typical weekend in late 1970's America. The bad hair, the hiphuggers, the muscle cars, the 8-tracks.

Ohhh yea, the 8-tracks. I don't really have much nostalgia for 'em. I mean, they were cheap and didn't sound so hot. But that's what we had...they were the classic rock box. Jump into the front seat of your buddy's Camaro, pop in Deep Purple's Machine Head and head out!

For some reason, there are just a handful of songs and bands that I strongly identify with 70's roadtrippin'. There's no particular reason for this. Heck, it's probably just some idealized notion I've been incubating all these years about my crazed, youthful exploits. Anyway...some of the songs are "The Boys Are Back In Town" (Thin Lizzy), "Jungle Love" (Steve Miller), "Katmandu" (Bob Seger), "Can't Get Enough" (Bad Company) and ZZ Top's "Tush".

Yea, when I think of classic rock and stupidly good times from the era of orange furniture and scary sideburns, I think of ZZ Top. "Tush" is one of those tunes that always made us reach for the volume knob. It just couldn't be turned up too loud. The distorted blues/rock guitar, the not quite over-the-top vocals and the blistering lead guitar...oh yea...it was, as they say today, all good.

Then, shortly after the dawn of MTV, somethin' funny happened. ZZ Top just exploded. That little 'ole band from Texas put out Eliminator, made a few videos and went on to be considered one of MTV's pioneering artists.

The only problem with their second wave of success was that they had a tough time pulling away from "Sharp Dressed Man", "Gimme All Your Lovin'" and "Legs". Subsequent records had that techno-sheen on 'em. It all sorta ran together. They even put out a record called "Recycler". Yea, no kidding.

I basically lost track of the bearded ones, sadly figuring that they were done. As much as I try to ride it out with my old favorites, this time it seemed like that well had run dry.

But then about a month ago I saw a review for a new ZZ Top album. Steeling myself for the usual "they're all washed up" screed, I popped open the review link to discover that, hey, Mikey liked it!

So, in the middle of Christmas shopping, I bought myself a little present: ZZ Top's Mescalero.

Now this is the real thing. Huge, distorted rhythm guitar, grizzled bluesy vocals, in-the-pocket drumming and snarling guitar leads.

But wait...there's more! (I don't know about you, but every time I hear that I think of the Popeil's Pocket Fisherman)...

Mescalero has a definite Tex-Mex flair. There's a xylophone on the title track, a greasy & swampy Cajun vibe to "Alley-Gator", country balladry complete with pedal steel guitar ("Goin' So Good"), some country swing ("What Would You Do"), and even a tune delivered in Spanish ("Que Lastima"...sorry, I can't help with the lyrics...my Spanish never made it beyond Steve Martin's "Donde Esta La Casa De Pee Pee").

Fans of the early Top sound won't be disappointed with the scorchin' boogie of "Crunchy", the good 'ole ZZ-style blues of "Buck Nekkid" or the twisty rock of "Liquor" (which gets my vote for "Bestest 'n Funnest Update of 'La Grange'"). The album ends with a nice hidden track: a cover of "As Time Goes By". Kinda cool.

Feeling a little post-holiday blues? Maybe you need a shot of Mescalero.