Zig Zeitler -Comes Full Circle

                                                                     

Zig Zeitler

Everything I Ever Did Wrong

Is Right

I first met Zig Zeitler around 1999 when he popped up @ White’s Bar and started jamming with Marty Viers. I had never heard anything like Zig before or after. He possessed an other-worldly voice that made me sit up and take notice. I wasn’t sure what he was singing about but it seemed like a mix of ancient French Bayou, English and Pig Latin. I remember his oddly distinctive version of Mustang Sally. He didn’t do the Wilson Pickett version but instead copped to his own muse.

Mustang Sally

Guess you gotta slow your Mustang down

You’ve been running all over town now

Guess you gotta put your smelly feet on the ground

It was perfectly rebellious and hilarious at the same time. In that very moment I was a true believer. He became my ayatollah of creole-la and my snooze ya lose the blues kingpin. He went on to establish the White Crow Conservatory of Music with his wife Siusan O’Rourke in the northwest part of Saginaw. They’ve been creating, developing and booking talented singers, musicians and songwriters from across the country.  They also have established a popular music program for children and adults who want to learn to play instruments such as piano, guitar. They also have voice coaches who instruct singers on how to improve their singing technique and develop their voice

Zig has performed for over 40 years and has released 18 CDs of original music. He has shared the stage with such legendary artists as Lazy Lester and Buckwheat Zydeco. He and Siusan continue to crisscross the country in pursuit of taking his music to every nook and cranny of the country where people gather to listen to authentic Americana, Zydeco, Roots, Blues and Irish music. He is a master craftsman and a multi-instrumentalist who is a student of musical expression and a true believer. It is always reassuring to me whenever I hear Zig perform. We need him to remind us of that which is pure and beautiful….the voice of the everyman.

Zig’s latest release is a throwback to those early rock & roll rhythms that recall Elvis as well as Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins and Dick Dale & the Del-Tones. Listening to this disc is like eating a warm slice of apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and knowing for a brief moment that everything is aligned and in its place. All is well. So cast your mind back to those halcyon days and astound to Zig Zeitler’s loving tribute to rock & roll, surf and rockabilly.

He opens with Stray Dog a rockabilly number with a hot walking bassline, harmonica flourishes and jangly guitar from bass to e-string and back. Zeitler sings it low and cool like a native Cajun in the French Quarter. He captures the essence of early rock & roll and sounds a bit like Brian Setzer. He does an about face with I’m so tired. The Peter Gunn riff and heavy bass string boogie is irresistible. Zeitler is an underrated picker. He can make the guitar smile out loud like a kid on Christmas morning. The title song is a winner. It’s cool go-daddy-go rockabilly with a just enough tremolo and a tip of the hat to 12 bar blues based on the Sufaris version of Wipeout. Zeitler gets down to his Cajun/Zydeco roots with Bad Spell, a minor chord gem about some bad juju. The mojo just ain’t working this time. He even tips his hat to the 9-to-5 working stiffs who are happy just to have a job. I hear the anger in the lyric:

Ain’t I lucky

Sure is ducky

All I have to do

Is work nine to five

Zeitler is an accomplished musician who understands a minimalist approach and allowing undisturbed spaces for the music to breathe. This is true of his song Aby Lynn. The sparse instrumentation provides the space to build upon Aby’s cool invisible voodoo that no man can resist. For Zig the only alternative is to fall in love. The best song on the disc is Allous Dancer Mon Cher. This is up-tempo Bayou Blastin’ music of the highest pedigree. Zeitler sings in French as well as English, a purist indeed! The mix of ancient rockabilly/zydeco sounds provides the perfect soundscape for a great time. It is perfectly charming. Zeitler even throws in an ode to the surfing craze with Surf Butz. It opens with a single bongo workout and the unmistakable wipeout riff and some over-the-top cool tremolo guitar that would make Dick Dale smile like a Cheshire cat. Zeitler recreates the sounds of surf guitar with fast scales, reverb and that dynamic wet sound that makes you wanna go the beach and hang out with moon doggie. I’ve Got a Woman is Zeither’s tribute to Don Rich and the Bakersfield Sound. This is stripped down elemental rock & roll. You don’t hear too much of that anymore. It’s precious and should be preserved. The disc ends with a be-bop jump and jive ditty called Abigail. It’s some kinda tasty. Roll over Chuck Berry, dig them Blue Suede Shoes.

Zeitler is on a mission to keep music alive and this disc is the living proof. It is a comforting throwback to an era when rhythm, melody and harmony mattered. Dig the warm analogue sound

 Long Live Zig Zeitler

You can purchase Everything I Did Wrong Was Right at the White Crow Conservatory located at 3736 Mackinaw in Saginaw; Call Zeitler @ 790-2118. Music makes a great gift!

Peace

Bo White

Lost Treasures The Four Seasons Genuine Imitation Life Gazette

                                                                  

 

The Four Seasons

The Genuine Imitation Life Gazette

The Four Seasons were an unstoppable hit-making machine juggernaut blending teen pop anthems with adult themed MOR orchestral rock. In the early sixties they ascended to the top of the charts with their simple pop arrangements, romantic adult lyricism and glorious four part harmonies led by the soaring falsetto of Frankie Valli. It seemed they could do no wrong. Bob Gaudio composed the music and wrote the lyrics and Valli’s vocals gave it a totally unique otherworldly sound. There was simply no professional singer who could replicate Valli’s vocal power. He could leap from a pitch perfect tenor to a soaring falsetto and then effortlessly come back to the lyric/verse. The Gaudio/Valli team was simply unbeatable; creating one hit after another from Sherry, Big Girls Don’t Cry, Rag Doll, Walk Like A Man and Save it For Me to their last big sixties hit Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow. From 1962 to 1968 the Four Seasons registered 50 chart-making Hits. They were at the apex of their creativity forging compact pop songs with big band arrangements. There was nobody on the pop scene that could match the craft and beauty Four Season’s music. By 1965 pop music was shifting to a more sophisticated sound and complex arrangements using instruments not typically associated with rock & roll; The Beatles song Yesterday was a prime example of the new rock & roll. Gaudio’s creative juices were fermenting a mighty broth of adult oriented songs that went beyond teen oriented moonin’ and junin’ love songs. In 1965 Gaudio brought Joe Long, a classically trained musician, into the fold with founding members Tommy Devito and Valli. It was prescient move as Long proved to be the pivotal component in helping Gaudio advance his vision of melding Four Season’s harmonies with jazz and big band arrangements and adult lyrics. He brought in a Jake Holmes, a Greenwich Village folkie who wrote songs about politics, false prophets, divorce, Wall Street wolves and entrepreneurial hippies. Several of the songs were over six minutes long with comples tempo changes and layered musical segments. The album included a four page insert filled with photos and faux advertisements. The cover motif appeared as a daily newspaper with headlines (What’s a Hippie), articles (Mothers Into Third Month of Work Slowdown), Market Statistics (National Confusion - volume 581, 900), weather reports (brisk, even sparky), and anti-war statements (the Dow Jones casualty average rose 3.23 to 967.43 for the week). The song list and lyrics were cleverly placed within body of the newspaper. The cover itself attained legendary status and is credited for inspiring similar covers by John Lennon and Jethro Tull. The stage was now set for the Four Seasons to create their Magnum Opus; The Genuine Imitation Life Gazette

American Crucifixion Resurrection (6:48)

The King is dead – long live the king

This epic pop symphony opens to an atmospheric swirl of voices and percussion, the tympani thunders and the orchestra creates an explosive texture of sound that signals a gradual build-up of sound and fury; a dramatic shift in tempo as the piano pounds out 32^nd notes and the violins squeal in staccato fits and spurts. A second temp shift to a slower pace signals unison group vocals wordless and powerful. Then…Valli sings

I taught him to love.  

I taught him to laugh

I taught him to share

 And when he was afraid

I held his hand

 I gave him hope

I gave him pride

Then I gave him to the world outside

Mrs Stately’s Garden (3:12)

A piccolo passage opens the song like a butterfly flitting from a petal to the flower. It’s a light and breezy, a sweet interlude before the drum roll segues to a syncopated rhythmic piano trill with the bleat of jazzy horns. Valli sings – “such pleasant company in Mrs Stately’s garden.” This is a story about the gossip and rumors that pass through neighborhood bars, churches, backyard brunches and bar mitvahs. It’s like a wildfire or radar that rips through the lives of those unfortunate souls that are shoe-horned into the neighborhoods of our cities and towns. Mrs. Stately could be anyone of us. She reads the headlines and comments on all the trouble and woe in the world. It could be about a rape or a death, but contains no sympathy just an odd curiosity - without caring or concern for others. It is the fate of human kind; people swarming like mosquitos ready to bite and draw blood.

Look Up, Look Over (4:42)

A minor chord is the clarion call, an instant cloud of melancholia. Valli sings from the diaphragm, he digs deep into that inner reserve that borders darkness and light. He steps outside of the sorrow and looks deeply into the void. He sings about the deep sadness of losing someone you love dearly. It’s about falling out of love and not quite knowing why.

Look through her eyes; There is no love

She may smile when I touch her hair

We kiss and although she’s there, she’s gone

I know she’s gone.

LOOK UP, IT’S OVER

Something On Her Mind (2:44)

The song opens with a pounding syncopated piano trills. It has an upbeat mid-tempo gallop that implies confidence and conveys a sense of promise. It has complex signature changes and ambivalent, yearning lyrics. Valli begins with a question,

 Is she really looking at me, Is a feeling really happening?

It’s so easy to see something’s on her mind

Is she really as free as the girl she pretends to be?

Does she know that I see something’s on her mind

Valli eventually has to let her go, she’s with another man. The promise is lost, or is it? There are several tempo shifts, a slow-down and a quiet passage followed by a staccato piano riff that ends the song with a dramatic question mark.

Saturdays Father (3:10)

This is an incredible song from the music to the lyrics. It has a multi-layered perspective that introduces the story from the eyes of the mother and the children. The father’s lament is in the third person. His side of the story may be too painful to explore directly. This is a melancholy look at the emotional ravages of divorce. The emotional valence is understated giving the feelings a deeper, more complex texture.  The longing and regret are enveloped in the weekend visitations, the de-facto roles and duties of the adults and the wishes of the children. The accapella harmonies on the coda provide the storage for all the muted and unexpressed feelings. Valli gives a spectacular reading. It’s a heartbreaking message; a missing piece forever detached from each member of the family. If only…

Wall Street Village Day (4:26)

An opening piano riff provides a lulling hypnotic interlude that gradually increases the tempo as the drums and percussion build the rhythmic structure. The tempo gradually speeds up to a rock steady 55mph as the intricate jazzed up piano trills picks it up and lay it down. The song is about a typical day in Greenwich Village. The counterculture visionaries mingle with the educated and elite, watching each other from a distance. The players watch the people and the people are there for a show. The unison vocals and sloppy group harmonies are perfect, delightful – the voice of the everyman with Valli intoning the truth.

Paisley people dressed in colors

Wearing what they have to say

Some are paisley some are grey

See them masquerading on a Greenwich Village Day

Genuine Imitation Life (6:15)

The harpsichord intro colors the music like a marionette controlled by the puppet master. There is an unseen power of shadow people; it’s so easy to manipulate of the masses. The dirge-like tempo casts a pale over the soundscape and is interrupted only by the whimsical harpsichord and Valli’s impassioned singing. This is a dialectical dilemma about mind control and singular lives. Orwell warned us and it came to be. Plastic people are wearing masks never really knowing themselves or the other. The Hey Jude coda (complete with the phrasing) appears to be a tribute to the Beatles’ influence in expanding the boundaries of rock & roll music.

Chameleon changing colors while crocodile cries

People rubbing elbows but never touching eyes

Taking off their masks, revealing still another guise

GENUINE IMITATION LIFE

IDAHO (3:03)

Sly Stone-styled horns funk up this cool travelogue that could have been commissioned by Idaho’s tourism industry. An insistent bass groove infuses the song with a tough energy and sense of movement. The layered harmonies are slightly off the mark, going off sharp at times but giving the song a Midwestern applesauce and cinnamon flavor that is simply scrumptious. The singers may be reading the tongue-in-cheek lyrics too literally but they sure do sound like they are having fun. Idaho sounds pretty cool especially the hiking, rock climbing, wildflower watching, flush toilets and avalanche classes. Hmm, healthy lifestyles meet the grand ennui.

Wonder What You’ll Be (3:25)

This is a thoughtful ode to fatherhood and the sometimes painful rapproachment that occurs between fathers and sons. This in the resolution of the conflict of being close yet separate; Independent yet needing the other. Like any other parent, the singer is feeling the tension between keeping his son close and letting him go. This is a thoughtful and loving tome poem about an existential dilemma that parents face every day. More so it is a father’s oath to his son; I’ll always be there for you. This is a piano-led musical excursion that sounds a bit like Lennon on Instant Karma. Love it

I’ll make the most of every day

I’ll hold you in my arms

And keep you by my side

Till you must go away

Wonder what you’ll find

Soul of a Woman (7:05)

This is an inspired ballad with an incredible a wash of piccolo, woodwinds and piano. The instrumentation is gorgeous and the tempo is sensuous and slow and conveys thoughtful, eyes wide open relationship; a young love on the precipice of a more adult relationship, warts and all. It is romantic with less heat. A deep melancholy colors the musical landscape prompting more questions than answers…as it should. It’s a perfect imperfection; a pocket symphony with several movements similar to Brian Wilson’s Good Vibrations. The only question I have is the use of the groovy lyric. It’s confusing. The lyricist may be using it to color her breezy freedom yet it seems to obfuscate the darker tendencies in the message. The dilemma rests in the contrast of a free-wheeling lifestyle and staying in a committed relationship.  This may be a flawed masterpiece but Valli saves the day with his intuitive and mighty tenor. Gaudio’s layered musical construction is pure genius and helps deliver the competing messages.

She can laugh, she can cry.

She can love and not care why

She can trust ‘cause no one told her not to

Look at her, she’s groovy

Woman in love, you’re a woman in love

You live for him, he lives for you

There’ll be a home, a child or two

And now the flower is open all the way

It’s a beautiful day, but it’s not here to stay

The Four Seasons Genuine Imitation Life Gazette is available @ amazon.com and eBay on vinyl and CD formats. This is a forgotten treasure that deserves greater attention. Buy it now, its money well spent!

Peace

Bo White

 

 

A Forgotten Treasure

The Hard Ride

By

The 1910 Fruitgum Company

Blues, Jazz and Psychedelia

The Hard Ride represents the dying gasp of an underrated band. The 1910 Fruitgum Company had morphed several times since their inception in 1967. As the Jeckell & Hydes they enjoyed massive success in their hometown of Linden New Jersey. They were talented garage rockers who could play the hits of the day whether it was the Beatles, Hendrix or the Vanilla Fudge or throw in a few of their own compositions. The nucleus of the band included Frank Jeckell (guitar, vocals), Mark Gutkowski (lead vocals, organ), Pat Karwan (guitar, vocals), and Floyd Marcus (drums). It seems almost incomprehensible that the band who hit the big time with Simon Says. Sure, the song was based on a game intended for pre-school children but nonetheless it had a great wooly bully organ riff and the vocals were stoned perfection. But by 1969, Mark Gutkoswski was the only original member left in the group. He was a great singer and a multi-instrumentalist and a superb songwriter. He was a gifted leader who insisted on excellence and set the bar high. Hard Ride is the culmination of Gutkowski’s career as a rock & roll hit-maker and it stands today as a forgotten treasure, a eulogy for a great band that has been misplaced in time as something to be scorned or even vilified. I stand here today to correct that misperception. I saw the 1910 Fruitgum Company in February and again in December of 1969 and the draconian changes carved out by Gutkowski were astonishing. In February Gutkowski the band had already made inroads to the new sounds that Gutkowski would hear in his head. By December, this new, more complex music was a reality. The band now had a funky horn section and an excellent B3 player. Gutkowski switched to bass and he shared vocals with the phenomenal Ritchie Gomez.  This is a review of The Hard Ride

Don’t Have to Run And Hide (2:58) (M. Gutkowski, T. Gutkowski). This is pure Gutkowski-bred rock & roll. Mark’s voice is matured and soulful and his falsetto ooh’s punctuate the end of each verse. The horn section is funked up and brings the energy level up a few notches. This is a classic rocker with a verse, middle and chorus structure. It should have been a top forty hit. A great song.

All These Things (2:38) (R. Gomez) is a Beatlesque ballad with a complex arrangement with prominent horns and several tempo changes. Gomez rich tenor provides just the right amount of angst and a pitch perfect reading of the lyrics. Gutkowski’s thumping bass grooves stand out as the rhythmic center that gives the percussion an air-tight vice grip beat as the horns wash over the musical landscape 

Beggars Epitaph (3:50) (M. Gutkowski, T. Gutkowski). This is Mark Gutkowski’s swan song, a prayer for forgiveness. It uses a minor chord motif to cast a pale over the singer’s plea. The song is driven by a frantic high chase beat with a scorching organ backdrop and E-string trills. The horn players, Roth and Cohen took a few tips from Chicago and BS&T and it’s all for the better. Gutkowski sings that he sold his soul to the devil and pleads;

 Help me lord

Now my time is almost here.

I hear lord that you will forgive a man

If he’s sincere

I’ve sold my soul to the devil Lord

This I won’t deny

Oh god I don’t want to die

Help me Lord

Help Me

The somewhat elusive lyrics appear to be a slam directed to Kasenetz & Katz, the architects of the bubblegum sound and their almost total control over the product created in their hit-making factories. It speaks to the dearth of artistic freedom of artists who sign their rights over to the Machiavellian image makers in the mansions on the hill

Eulogy (2:00) (1910 Fruitgum Company) is an up tempo blues with tongue firmly in cheek. It is brisk and saucy and a rockin’ good time. The organist excels on this homegrown ditty. This is a fine example of unison singing – reminiscent of the Grateful Dead.  It’s a down home hootenanny with a great sense of humor. The lyrics tell the story

When I die

I want to be buried

 In a pot garden

When I die

 I want to be buried

In a pot garden

If you can’t find a garden

Bury me in the grass

Selub (7:21) (T. Gutkowski, D. Christopher). A drum solo serves as a transition to some sweet/nasty and slow twelve bar blues. It has some tasty harp that is prominent throughout this little exercise in our homegrown heritage. The B3player Pat Soriano is back in the mix but the solos are funky and soulful like Felix Cavaliere on Come on Up or Lonely Too Long. Soriano is the lead singer on this song. He jumps in with screaming high pitched vocal like Dan McCafferty grousing all pissed and throaty after a night out on the prowl and needing a little hair of the dog. But you can’ beat the guitarist who fills the void with those big full bodied notes and the fantastic interplay between the B3 and the slide guitar. Don Christopher’s Mike Bloomfield-inspired guitar workout gives the vocal performance even greater power. It’s a traditional bluesy heartbreak song merging love with raw boned eroticism. The lyrics tell part of the story

Come on Home

All I want is you, child

Ain’t nobody else gonna do

Come on home gal

All I want is you

YOU

I’ve never loved a woman

The way I get down to lovin’ you

In the hotel room

Any way you want it

The Train (2:30) is another gem written by Ritchie Cordell, Jeff Katz, and Jerry Kasenetz. These are the masterminds of the bubblegum music that was all the rage in 1968. This is a well-constructed rock song with a bluesy organ and a top notch horn section and another great vocal performance by Mark Gutkowski. He was at the top of his game and was singing with more depth of expression. Like any good pop song The Train hints of a night of carnal pleasures and Dionysian excess. Hallelujah!

SIDE 2

Creations of Simon (3:40) (J. Roth, R. Gomez, T. Gutkowski). The title is conceived as the evolution from Simon says. The song opens side two with some tasty wah wah guitar. The horns power in and the rhythm section has a vice grip on time like Entwhistle and Moon keeping Townshend in check. The syncopated beat heats it up like a totally demented but sober Sly Stone. There are several tempo changes that display the skill of the band like switching from a 3 step waltz to some raw funk and soul train spew and then suddenly, out of nowhere a flute appears for a brief calming interlude followed by some brutal back door sax. The band is tight and…it works. This is bump and grind music for when you get down with your honey bunch. The guitarist stretches out, up and down the neck from the e-string to the bass, very fluid. Pat Soriano sings a few verses about being yourself, to be exactly who you are. Good advice.

Collections of Thoughts (5:08) (D. Christopher) opens with an insistent walking guitar riff, poppin’ bass, organ washes and then horns. The unison vocals are compelling and recall power pop at its best – a touch of Beatles and a hint of Chicago. There are spot on signature changes, chunky, scratchy guitars and elusive spoken word backdrops ala Pink Floyd (“just to be part of it”; it’s just too much” when you stand with me, it’s exciting). Christopher has a great voice and his lyrics are almost Zenist, multiple truths and middle paths

There’s nowhere to sit

But where do I stand

I need her

The mirror reflects all the things…

break it… left with reality

a) In the Beginning (1:30) (1910 Fruitgum Company). This snippet of an intro has Hendrix fuzztone with the music crashing in a fury of competing sounds. The synthesizer creates a mosaic of electronica that hints of the new age electro/dance/synth/trance movements that evoke a hypnotic effect. Without missing a quark or a squeal the music segues to…

b) The Thing (3:40) (M. Gutkowski, T. Gutkowski)

The Thing. It’s a well-produced and engages the listener with a crisp sound – it pops! It has it all -fuzz guitar, a boppin’ bass line, and a screaming B3. The horns color the musical landscape and give it some jazzy syncopation. Wah Wah guitar effects signals the horns to enter into the fray. In ’69, this band of young musicians were on the cusp of discovery, stretching out and testing the limits and taking chances like a new band on the rise, not a fading bubblegum act that sings Simon Says to former fans that now dig Led Zeppelin or Foghat. They were making a statement.  

Togetherly Alone (Five Movements) (5:30) (J Roth, T. Gutkowski) is an obscure dialectical reference that provides the scaffolding for this pocket symphony. The song is crafted as a minor chord lullaby with cascading organ trills that drench the musical backdrop in rich sepia toned colors, like an ancient Christie brand pipe organ. The tempo shifts and Ritchie Gomez lays down the vocal, Gomez is a flat out great singer. He can be a chameleon sounding like Paul or George but on this song his rich vocals resemble Tommy James from his Crystal Blue Persuasion era. He possesses great tone and pitch; a pure tenor. The tempo changes to a simple but powerful 4/4 marching beat each instrument joins in unison. The buzzing bass and synth lines give the song a psychedelic tone and the inverted chords, trumpeters swan and classical guitar phrases give the song a rich baroque feel. Richie’s vocals are exquisite;

We have each other forever

Now we’re together

Forever together

no longer together

togetherly alone

The record ends with a mad professor’s organ trill and a guitar crescendo. There is a false ending; Silence then 14 bars of an upbeat mid-tempo instrumental tip of the hat to Gary Brooker (Procol Harum) and one last goodbye.

The end of a great LP; an honest effort, a grand experiment!

Hard Ride is a great LP, an undiscovered treasure. Don’t let the bubblegum label fool you. This LP is a major statement by a great band that never got its due. It’s available on Amazon or Ebay. Buy it now. You won't be disappointed

Ghetto Priest

Ghetto Priest

They Call I Black

At the age of 33 years I arrived at a point in my life where the psychological illusion of 
a safety net that I had created or implanted in my mind pertaining to family, culture, society, religion and environment was stripped down to its bare bones. This mini album is a testimony to my 33 years on the planet earth

-          Ghetto Priest

Ghetto Priest is an artist that hit his stride with Adrian Sherwood’s the On-U Sound back in the ‘90’s. He cut his teeth as singer and percussionist for African Head Charge and by 2004 he cut his first album for the label entitled Vulture Culture. Later that year he teamed up Scottish artist Graham Fagen for a remake of Robert burns song “The Slaves Lament.” He even found time to hook up with activist dub-punks Asian Dub Foundation and appear on Fortress Europe from their Enemy of the Enemy album. He went on to front their exciting stage shows for the next four years. He has released several singles including Dungeon, A Long Way, Armageddon and the lion Of Judah Hath Prevailed. He has recorded with The Process, Detroit’s own iconoclastic reggae punks. This is Ghetto Priest’s Sermon on the Mount and the six songs on this disc are the beatitudes. Listen

Wrapped in Prophecy

This is a genre blending musical score that pushes boundaries. Despite the sometimes preachy vibe, this song is about feeling happy and finding bliss. The synthesized backdrop colors the song with a dream-like quality that seems like an alien dissociated state in which the normal processes of consciousness and memory are suspended. Ghetto Priest sings in low conversational tones as if he’s in the kitchen sharing a cuppa with a friend and confiding his most intimate thoughts, despite the title and the low-fi production, this is music for the masses. It has a cool cross-over appeal even with some of its more preachy tones. It is music with a transcendent message:

 I feel there’s somewhere else wrapped in prophecy   
You see the light only twice
Once when you are 
Once when you die

Ghetto Priest is clearly embracing an almost universal spiritual precept of the meek inheriting the earth as when Jesus names a group of people normally thought to be unfortunate and He pronounces them blessed.

Open Up (Let Your Light Shine)

Ghetto Priest sings about spirituality, redemption and Judgment Day with a minimalist backing  with just light percussion and synthesized accents, Ghetto Priests honey glazed vocals colors the song with a sense of warmth and intimacy. The listener joins in with the singer and they are one. He lulls the listener into complete and total submission.  Like a love junkie that never has enough, you cannot stop asking for more. He’s so quiet and unassuming, you have an urge to stop, quiet your mind and really listen. His lyrics are about courage and redemption:

Don’t give up  
Never say die  
Seek and you shall find
Let your mind fly
touch the stars 
Life keeps moving on
Don’t lose your faith
Slow down the pace

The Devil & The Deep Blue Sea

This is an extraordinary beautiful ballad, a substantial piece of music that can stand on its own merits. It opens with a lonesome acoustic guitar playing a minor chord, a swoosh of a cymbal roll and Ghetto Priest’s winsome “oooh”. There is a musical economy that provides space for the instruments and vocals to co-exist peacefully.  He sings:

I wonder if good can conquer evil
could we ever be free
Down on my knees
Caught between the devil & the deep blue sea
asking for forgiveness for all our sins

This is a breezy pop song with a message. It has hooks galore, melody and a great lead vocal.

It could be a radio hit!

Bruised is a genre hopping master piece. A reggae infused declaration of courage against all odds. The verse is pure reggae bliss:

I’m bruised but I’m fighting
I’m blind but I can feel
every tumble I take
is making me stronger

The bridge includes a jangly guitar riff and a 2/4 beat:

When you tell me it’s alright
Nothing will break me down
If you need me I’ll be around
a shoulder to lean on 
When you hold me in your arms
There’s no doubt in my mind   
Everything’s gonna be alright

Ghetto Priest moves skillfully from reggae to pop without missing a beat. He even throws in some primitive Dylanesque harp as a means of tipping his hat to the master, a kindred soul whose music and lyrics created the soundtrack  for the sixties peace movement.

The Time Has Come is another genre defying song. It is a statement of change and rebellion and  love and freedom. This is an historical declaration that is centuries old but had its most recent incarnation in in 1967 as it flowered and overflowed in Laurel Canyon where the ideas about freedom, peace and love were embraced in San Francisco and elsewhere.  Ghetto Priest sings it cool and low and the harmony vocals by the ladies gives the chorus a boost. The swirling synthesizer blips and grumbles and helps define the overall sound. The percussion is muted but the rhythm of the guitars helps keep the time.

The lyrics tell the story:

The time has come
when we can sail into the ocean
we felt no fear and no regrets
the time has come
we can hold hands together
and march to the promised land

The Devil & the Deep Blue Sea (dub edit)

              The swoosh of the synthesizer colors the dub edit of this incredible musical statement. The prominent echo gives Ghetto Priest’s vocals a heavenly tone and hue. He sings beautifully. This is a stone masterpiece that deserves a wider audience. This is a fully realized song that goes beyond simple craft to a soulful exploration of musical blending and boundaries. His lush tenor sounds a bit like Usher which may convince a younger fan base to sit up and take notice . From the musical execution to the lyrical brilliance, Ghetto Priest is on the cusp of something much bigger. This should be the vehicle to greater notoriety. Keep on!                                                                                                                            

 Continental

The Death of a Garage Band

Life is constantly evolving and so is music.   The memories will always remain.The future will always hold endless possibilities. So we move on now. Still a garage band in spirit.  Still carrying the Torch –

Rick Barton                                                                                                                                                        

Rick Barton was the original guitarist for the Dropkick Murphys from 1996 to 1999. He performed on several EPs as well as full length discs Do or Die and The Gang’s All Here. After that initial success, Barton backed away from the scene for a few years before jumping back in with both feet to form Continental in 2009. In a curious twist of fate Barton’s son listened to a rough version of  a song entitled Curious Spell and then encouraged his father to put a band together and get back on the road.  Barton was ready to go and felt that that he could help his son pay some dues and learn what it’s like to be touring musician. The road can be a harsh mistress as well as forgiving headmaster. This is a story of fathers and son; a search for the holy in the den of the profane.  Death of a Garage Band is the perfect name for the disc. Barton plays it rough and ready without overdubs. He doesn’t do pretty. This is a whiskey drenched soliloquy from a man who knows the truth. This is one of the gutsiest musical documents along with Modern Times by Dylan or Johnny Cash’s work with Rick Rubin.

Life is Just One Hard Broken Dream

Despite the overt pessimism in the title, Barton paints this song with subtle strokes that conveys a bit of Mose Allison irony. He sings it like a pissed off Steve Earle shouting about the FCC and the CIA and making it with Condoleezza Rice. Barton hasn’t lost a step. This is the real deal from a working class musician who creates honest music. This is a supersonic high speed punk rocker with a touch of roots rockabilly. He keeps up the harrowing tempo right through to the coda.

C’mon baby let me hold you

Wrecking Ball

This song opens with several bars of just Barton and his acoustic guitar. He sings about waking up on the wrong side of the bed and it is a downer for sure. The tempo picks up and Barton bangs out the chords like Green day before they got famous and pretty. The drummer is rock solid and pounds out the beat with atomic powered lightning strokes. The chorus is repeated several times just so you don’t miss it. She’s got 99 reasons to leave. There is a brief accapella vocal, don’t bring out the wrecking ball followed by a neat little bass to E-string riff with impeccable stop & go timing. Barton shouts out, “Let’s Go!” and the song slams shut with 99 reasons to leave. WHEW!

Monday Morning

The song begins soft and quiet , with a nice melodic touch then gets loud and frantic  as Barton spits out the lyrics like he’s choking with anger. He has the voice of the everyman but has an otherworldly banshee scream when he spits out the lyric, “You know it isn’t true.”  This is a breakup song yet Barton is more than a little ambivalent;

I called you up Monday Morning
To say that we’re through
Thought about it for the weekend  
And how much I’d miss you
It’s a strange situation  to 
wake up with someone new

It sounds a bit like a booze-soaked vision but it comes off a little like hedging on a bet. He’s holding a deuce but acting like he’s got an ace in the hole. He’s playing  for keeps with nothing to back it up. He wonders if he should fold or continue the bluff.

No Reservations

Barton may be middle-aged but he shows no signs of slowing down. Performing with his son must be energizing, fulfilling. Now he can give his son a real education, the wisdom of the ages and a glimpse of why he’s been hard or soft, remote and loving. Now Barton’s heart is wide open as he tells a story of fathers and sons. The band is tight and Barton’s guitar is a machine gun. The lightning riffs help define the message. It’s an honest take no prisoners approach to hard drivin’ punk rock reminiscent of the music the MC5 and Stooges created in the late sixties.  Rick Barton is unable to fake sincerity. He’s not cut from that cloth. He’s growing old but he will make things right with his son, the people he loves. This is a heartfelt treatise on living by the eight fold path through love and integrity.

Great Big Sun

The sweet melodic guitar trills at the beginning opens a lyrical path a wistful longing for…acceptance, normalcy or even steady income. But this is a life of a touring musician who also creates and records new music. Barton references the public’s preoccupation with passing fads, some forgotten. He could be talking about  popular music – big band, blues, jazz, rock, punk have all had their time in the spotlight; all fell from mass popularity only to resurface in small pockets across the globe. The verses speak of honest home grown values

We can build a house

we can plant some seeds

we make the neighborhood just a little bit more green

we carve our names in the tree out back 

we can live together in our tiny little shack

The shouted chorus says it all:

WE LOVE HOW WE LIVE
NO ONE CAN SAY WE’RE WRONG

….CAN’T SAY WE’RE WRONG

Truth

This is Barton chiding his friends/fans/lovers about truth and integrity even when it hurts his relationships. It could be about anyone or everyone, even be his old chums in the Dropkick Murphy’s. Barton has a fine radar for bullshit. He admits to his own wrongdoing and vows to change. It took him over three years to bring it back around and form Continental. The lyrics have some venom:

It’s all black or white to me  
I don’t know what the hell it means
Now you took my picture off the wall 
didn’t know you had me up there at all

Stay with Me

This is a hard rockin punk song a middle eight that has a musical structure similar to NRBQ’s  C’Mon Everybody and buddy holly’s Not Fade Away…only speeded up and punk’d. Barton’s guitar work is simply inspired. He kicks it in with incredibly nimble fingering and a great tone. He’s playing like Dave Edmunds whacked out on speed and nailing Sabre Dance like he’s the reincarnation of Khachaturian whacked out on the juice. This may be the hardest rocking track on then disc. This is a high volume, speeded up feedback-soaked masterpiece.  Barton sings from the heart

Help me now I’ve come undone 
lived all my life under our hot sun
I’ve been told this night ‘s about to come
I’ve pulled the trigger on this loaded gun

Don’t leave me now  
Stay with me
Don’t leave me now

A great closer.

A Great New CD By Brody & The Busch Rd Trio

Brody & the Busch Road Trio

We’re Just Visiting

Brody and his band are maturing artists with a definite vision for their evolving craft. They are flexing their musical muscle like a tri-athlete looking for the gold. They are full of energy and ideas and are testing the outer limits of their endurance. They are pushing back at a tawdry scene that’s teetering at the abyss, throwing a lifeline to music and art and reeling it all back in to the mother ship. This is an incredible body of work, honest and bold. Brody and the Busch Rd Trio are not hesitant to sing about truth and live with the consequences. This  is a pure triumph,  one of the best discs of the year. Take a listen

Stay is an introspective piece that recalls Michael Stipe in his early days with REM. Brody has a mic friendly voice with just enough quiver and nuance to show his vulnerability and make it his own. The basic premise is love and loneliness and the musical backdrop supports the breadth of emotional expression. The music segues from quiet to loud to match the emotions expressed by the singer.  Brody’s voice rises and the tempo picks up. A fuzz-tone slide adds a little punch to the despair in the lyric. The guitar work is incredible. Burk plays it like ringing a bell, loud yet melodic.

She left me in the sad mid-morning 
With nothing but the cup of coffee I was holding 
Said she’d get back to me someday 
The fog lifted slowly I prayed for rain 
Dark cloudy skies to conceal my pain 
But the rain washed them all away 
What to do now but go back inside 
Curse the bed where we lied and cry 
Babe why don’t you stay

Murphy Lake Road Interlude

Opens with Jangly guitar and a marching beat right outta Sousa. The guitarist plays some big fat notes and gives the song a great hook. Brody spits out the words like venom from a snake bite. His rapid fire gunshot vocals have a husky Jack Daniels on a Friday night when you stay just a little too long and you wake up with a headache and your underwear down at your ankles and you wonder when she left and what you did to her. At this point Burk heats up the guitar until it gets louder and louder until the distortion and feedback almost hurts. The discordance is a statement . The song ends with the guitarist striking a loud sustained open chord .

Me and Marie used to ride down Murphy Lk. Rd. in my old Caprice

Cooler in the back Seger and Springsteen in the summertime

She’d smile and take the wheel while I lit my cigarette

When the stars came out we’d lie on the hood and plan out our lives

She used to sing to me I’d write poetry

She’d smile and say hey that’s beautiful

I’d say hey babe it’s all about you

You don’t know what I go through

Every time you walk into a room

Juliet’s Got the Blues

This is a stoned rootsy earth anthem with a flavor of dylanesque harp and a slurry laconic vocal perfect for the sedative/hypnotic crowd. The drummer has a strong backbeat and provides some neat syncopation to breaks through the bluesy self-absorption of the protagonist. This title would fit neatly into the Mumford & Sons catalog if Brody would only curse more often and portray the confidence and sensibility of a drunkard or longshoreman. Still, all-in-all this is a love song that didn’t work out too well. She didn’t buy it and he felt the sting. The echoed guitar riff comes in to the mix like a choir of bagpipes. It’s like a banshee howl, a cry of despair - great song!

I finally gone and lost her for good this time

I write a letter everyday, but she won’t change her mind

Can’t recall what I did wrong Lord send me a sign

I finally gone and lost her for good this time

She said she’d love me for the rest of my life

I lost my poor children and I can’t find my wife

Forgive me my mistakes Lord I swear I’ll make em right

She said she’d love me for the rest of my life

Can’t Burn Vern

This is a hats off to Dave Grohl’s hats off to Kurt Cobain who begat the Foo Fighters who begat the saving of rock & roll through the ghost of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. The thrashing thunderous guitars provide the rhythmic overtone while the bass and drums give the bottom real depth. The guitarist has a melodic touch that pulls it all together. Brody’s powerful vocals give the message a clip on the chin like Ali teasing Frasier at the Thrilla on Manila. The guitarist rocks mercilessly at the coda, hitting the E-string like samurai. This is Brody’s cry for help; a scream for salvation. Brody sounds more like Anthony Kiedis on this cut. Another hard rockin’ gem – anyone for Californication?

The way you look right through me

Baby thought you knew me

But you were mistaken

Now the change is takin

Over I can’t be you

But I will remain true

So don’t try and change me

I am all I can be

 So see me

Through your blindness

Kill me

With your kindness

  
Give it Away

Is the perfect vehicle to highlight the band’s fine-tuned musicality. The song has some neat syncopation and a tricky hesitation on the third beat of the verse with a sustained chord on the chorus. The timing is razor sharp. These cats can play. The lyrics have a heavy irony. He can forget and forgive all but his own sins. He could be reeling from a broken heart or some other addiction

Help me back Lord, to this life 
I have lived no, I have died 
Tell me how they did it those who came before me 
Followed footsteps, I fell shortly 
Can’t give it away 
Give it away 
Can’t give it away 
No I can’t get it back now

TN

This is down home country folk with primitive harp layered over top signaling like a freight train. The drummer keeps it going with a solid syncopation. The economical country rock guitar and those tasty full bodied notes allows the song space to breathe. The acoustic guitar helps drive the rhythm.

Livin too fast can’t catch up walk, crawl or run

60 hours won’t fill my pockets just a back ache and a heart gone numb

90 miles an hour down that road but you’ll never finish 1^st

Don’t wanna get there anyhow rather go in reverse

Hey babe let’s move to the southland I hear it’s an easy going place

Slow down catch our breath and I finally get to see your face

Yeah we get a little time but we don’t get quality

I think I made up my mind what to you think about Tennessee

Cat in the Rain

The minor chord colors the musical canvas. The guitarist sustains the fuzz-toned riff and it sails above the music like a ghostly banshee wail. The unison low harmonies give body Brody’s REM vocal. He sings like he’s in a trance, as if he’s chanting a mantra that is embedded in the hurricane pain of love gone bad.

It’s raining outside won’t you let me in 
Take my boots off no mud on your carpet 
Won’t you lay me down in your bed 
Turn the lights out over my head 
My feet are cold, my clothes soaking wet 
It’s coming down too hard to light a cigarette 
I know you locked me out won’t you let me in

Full Frontal

This is a rage against the machine, the clicks and clacks of the star maker machinery that has rusted and withered and left musicians, songwriters and singer holding the bag. Nobody can make money through the arts when our society is unhealthy and we are frozen in fear with no hope to make the good fight. It may give artists and poets something to rail about but playing for nothing is not the answer. The guitarists descending line and the drummers pounding beat underscore the bands anger.  Burk plays more notes in two bars than Jimmy Page.  The decibel level is ear-splitting loud and right on the mark. The anger is palpable. More please…fight the power

Caught in the same monotonous refrain 
Doesn’t help to turn the dial 
You know what they’re trying to do play us for fools 
While we remain docile 
Bored impatient and pissed 
I want you to listen to this

Lady Breathless has a knockout hook that gallops along at a nice pace. The acoustic refrain and strummed elecrtic chord take a back seat to Brody’s up-front vocal. Love the big hook in the middle 8. The melodic foundation of the music is a perfect vehicle for this sensuous sonnet; an imperfect love song. This is Brody’s search for something more than moderate happiness

Lady I, I’ve been thinking our love’s seen better days

How can that be when we never gave it a chance in the first place

Tell me how it is after all these years we can still ignore

Our buried feelings tortured emotions that heart under the floor

Your crooked smile

Perfect complexion

Baby I can’t sleep

Angelic voice

Your soul’s reflection

Haunts me in my dreams

Drive Toward Me

The quiet/loud construction is another tip of the hat to Kobain and grunge. The drummer sets up the rhythm by riding the high hat and cymbals. By the second verse the drums and guitar join together and machine gun the tempo. There are several slick tempo changes in the song. The guitarist’s slide becomes a powerful statement and sets the pace for the driving beat on the bridge. It sounds like a plea for help

I wish we could find some common ground

Instead of falling and stalling and spinning around

I know now I’m stuck out here

Graying and fading and wasting the years

So this is what it’s like to be alive staring at life

See your face in a dusty mirror

Lord help me out I’m dying here

Room 221

A slowed-down tempo and foreboding minor key colors the musical landscape. The band takes on several tricky tempo shifts that help the music assert itself and gives Brody the platform to explore and expand his unique vocal blend of intonation, bent notes, breathing, sustained notes and moaned and garbled asides. This is an incredible prescient look at aging and necessary losses. Great song!

These old wrinkled hands

Used to hold so many plans

Too late to regret

Only got one vacation left

Now she’s dying here all alone

Dying here all alone

What Went Wrong

This is morality tale about making bad choices and the stranglehold of addiction. It is a death knell; a ringing warning. Beware, you never pick up that first glass of cider thinking you’ll get hooked. It can kill your soul.

Now my life is so empty

Just like all those bottles of whisky

No hope for me anymore

I think it’s time to settle the score

I choose the booze

Can’t Breathe

This is a pastoral sepia-toned ode to a devastating loss. The guitar is a virtual wall of pain. It sounds like a punch in the chest and a stranglehold on your throat. The pain takes his breath away. The tempo slows down, the music quiets and Brody sings from the heart. But he’s standing inside himself and feels all of it. The strummed chord at the end seems like an act of defiance. He knows he  will not wallow in sorrow forever.

Burned your picture erased your number

Sat outside with the rolling thunder

Beauty turned to ashes your voice is long gone

Just me and the raindrops falling till dawn