Brush Lopez Trio - Live at White's Bar CD

Recorded at White's Bar on September 16,2001, "Brush/Lopez (with Mark Dault) Live" is like a phone call from an old lover. It's warm and comforting with more than a hint of sensuousness. The vibe is relaxed and underscored by a message of love and friendship. It's a mature work performed by consummate artists. Mike Brush is an exceptional keyboardist with an expressive bluesy vocal style that recalls Tom Waits and the more sensual musings of Boz Scaggs. Ron Lopez is one of the most tasteful and economical guitarists this side of Wes Montgomery. And Mark Dault..well..he's just one helluva drummer. He is attuned to musical spaces and the ambient tones he creates to accentuate the trio's overall sound. A true master that doesn't forget the "feel" of the music. This 8 song set captures the trio in a "Cool Jazz" groove with hints of 12-bar blues (afterall, jazz is derived from the blues), glorious be-bop syncopation, and Gershwin/Kahn pop tunes. So put it in your CD player, cuddle up with your favorite partner, and prepare yourself for a night of musical lovemakin'...

A walkin' bassline opens the disc with Delbert McClinton's "Cease and Desist". A great tune elevated by the generous virtuosity of Brush's piano and Lopez' guitar. Solos are traded off but never invade and possess the song structure. The instruments enter the song, accentuate the message, and fade from the foreground. Musical economy at it's finest! "Our Love Is Here to Stay" is an ode to love and hope. To the backdrop of Brush's mid-tempo arrangement, some tasty fretwork by Lopez, and syncopated accents by Dault, the listener truly feels the protaganist will prevail and love will win in the end. The next song, "Your Mind Is On Vacation", is from the catalog of the iconoclastic Mose Allison. The lyrical themes convey Allison's sardonic humor. But it's the quirky piano solo and offbeat chordings and bluesy rhythms that elevate the total impact of the song. Brush's piano is red-hot.... absolutely breathtaking! "Walking My Baby Home" recalls an earlier time. A time of innocence. Imagine a couple holding hands, kickin through the autumn leaves, and making big plans on a lovers' stroll. "A Nighingale Sang in Berkeley" is a thematic match to the previous track. But the music is at once more majestic and melancholy. Track six, "Jack", is a Brush original that honors the memory of mentor and friend Jack Bruske. The music's uptempo arrangement complements Brush's warm and personal lyrics. It's a compelling tribute and the highlight of the album. Brush, like Bruske, is a "heavy cat" indeed. "Pennies From Heaven" has a strollin' laid back vibe and a sonic sweetness that underscores the positive "take the good out of the bad" message of the song. Brush sings convincingly with Lopez answering with rich tonal fretwork. "It Had To Be You" is the perfect closer as it captures and refrains the overall message of love and friendship of the album. Lopez' guitar work is notable. His solos are rich and pure as he bends and strings notes with a remarkable musical economy. Less can be more.

So there you are, an elpees worth of "cool jazz". Go ahead, put it in the machine, lay back, and make a little love....that's what it's all about.

Brett Mitchell – Small House

Sit back, kick your feet up and prepare yourself for some of the best latte rock since Emitt Rhodes left Merry-Go-Round and did American Dream. Melodic pop never got much better than Rhodes’ You’re A Very Lovely Woman. Sure there were some mighty efforts put forth – Badfinger’s No Matter What, Todd Rundgren’s Hello It’s Me and Big Star’s September Gurls – but none could match the pure power-pop genius of Paul McCartney. From Yesterday to Helter Skelter and his stone masterpiece Maybe I’m Amazed, McCartney became the Holy Grail to many an aspiring pop singer. Brett Mitchell is among the legion of Sir Paul devotees as is his producer, former Haskels’ front man Andy Reed. Remember the Haskels’ splendid magnum opus, Rewind or the glorious Let Down - wonder if a Jedi could do that one?
After an early incarnation as strong-arm power drummer for Gutbucket Blues Band, Mitchell morphed into a sweet honey-toned singer songwriter and blew us all away with his 2005 debut release Brett Mitchell (STEREO) that featured such gems as Sun Is Leaving with its gorgeous cello backdrop, the late-sixties-Kinks-inspired Defrost and the playful good time rim-clickin’ Goes My Way (with the wondrous Dave Kellan singing background). Like his idols Wheezer, Mitchell can swing sweet and soft but he can rock yer socks off too!

But before I review each of the songs on this glorious CD let me tell you the story – the real story – about how Brett Mitchell found the inspiration for Small House…
At the most unexpected times Brett’s memory swings back to his college days - sleeping-in till noon, pulling all nighters on those black bennies his suite-mate cuffed from a street vendor and the infamous swirly incident and… oh yeah…that lovely coed from Australia who called him “baby” and turned up at odd hours dressed only in a Bogie-like white trench coat and ready to go. Initially she was attracted to his strong wrists and would squeeze and kiss them like she was feeding a fetish or something...it kinda creeped him out though he really liked it. She told him she used to date the drummer from Air Supply and she found that drummers made great lovers. She loved the rough and tumble sexual gymnastics, the way he would thrust her into odd tangled-up positions – she learned so much from her athletic lover and proved to be such an eager pupil. Brett could only smile whenever he thought of her - you know that crooked half smile like he was Elvis or something. But when sweet pants learned that Brett’s musical ambitions had changed and he was beginning to sing (and oh, what a voice he had) and write songs, she decided full out to fall-in-love with him. She thought of herself as an erstwhile Patti Harrison and hoped she might inspire Brett to write great love songs like Something or Wonderful Tonight or especially her favorite song - Mandy…Mandy? But before it got too serious she jumped ship and left for Arkansas to campaign for Huckabee. She loved his Faith, Family, Freedom slogan - the sound of it, not the meaning - and sang back-up in his band Capital Offense. Some say she was the one who convinced Huckabee to run for the Presidency. Stump, caucus and rock n’ roll - politics is just too sexy!
Now THAT is what inspired Brett to write and record Small House…
HONEST.

And what a colorful musical landscape Brett creates on this disc. He’s the post-modern Georgia O’Keefe of rock n’ roll, painting his songs with such vibrancy and erotic tension while still evoking a quiet beauty in the music. This is in artist in transition, maturing and reaching his enormous potential while still achieving balance and centeredness.
The disc opens with Born Too Late a great mid-temp rocker with a riff straight outta the Cars songbook and musical landscape colored by the layered doodling of a moog synthesizer. This is a hook-filled joy to behold with an irreverence that captures the spirit of Cash, Lennon and the other masters mentioned in the lyrics.
Small House is a metaphor for a day in the life of a working musician, trying to make it - at least beyond the county line. It’s hard work, long hours and doesn’t always pay well. It’s both exhilarating and demoralizing, depending on the gig and the crowd response - do they ever really get it? All in all, the small house can prepare you for something bigger.
Don’t Worry About Me. This is Bob Marley meets Paul Simon – a reggaefied pop treat that seems to be the third movement in the opening trilogy of related songs about being a musician. Common themes include sleeplessness, loneliness, solitude, and relationships – problems that seem preordained for the lifestyle.
Friend is an ode to love and friendship and is one of the most beautiful songs on the disc. Mitchell’s pure tenor is used to great effect and helps convey his search for closeness and spiritual longing. Indeed, Mitchell’s voice is one of the best instruments on the CD. This is no small praise as the supporting cast of Mike Cramton (drums, conga, and percussion) Tim. Puckett (piano, lap steel, harpsichord), Bill Hall (bass), and Andy Reed (bass, producer) are superb – MONSTERS on each of their instruments!
Head in the Clouds is a cool jazz ballad beautifully sung with Mitchell’s vibraphone adding effect. The lyrical theme is about stasis – playing the same old songs and the uncertainty about an ongoing relationship. Everything seems so endlessly dull yet so temporary. And though he feels stuck, he can escape to the promise of the clouds…and he will not be tied down.
New Disease has a damn good hook and the metaphor is perfect. Hey dude…so what keeps you dippin’ the wicket in this crummy relationship? Church Lady says it’s the devil – and spells it S-E-X.
Going Away has a fifties Earth Angel vibe and is sung so high and pretty it makes me wanna moon & june and listen to some more. This is a breakup song that’s far too lovely to be a breakup song. But Mitchell puts just enough cry in his voice to get the message across.
Last Chance is a funky minor chord classic that has a foreboding tone and a dialectical message containing multiple truths - it’s just another day and this is your last chance. Every day you face moral dilemmas and make choices to live with integrity or to cast your values aside. These decisions can be both small and large. What is the price of betraying your beliefs?
Hypocrite seems to complete the theme introduced in Last Chance. It is a mid-tempo dose of vitriol aimed directly at one’s self – it’s our internal judge, a voice that rarely reaches consciousness and fills our soul with shame. Oftentimes these internal criticisms are projected onto others, mirroring our own culpability.
OCD is a baroque twist done in waltz time. The use of harpsichord recalls the sound of Being For the Benefit of Mr. Kite from Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band. This is a straight-up examination of a heart-wrenching struggle with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, an anxiety based problem that can be absolutely devastating. Breathe and find a way to fearlessness.
Night Glasses. Mitchell’s gorgeous tenor shines in this oblique soliloquy to one’s night labors, when one’s day is night and your body learns to take it in stride -even when its tough to hang onto what is right.
Consider Me Gone is a protest song that speaks to the dilemma posed in Night Glasses. Mitchell’s urgent echoed vocal recalls Billy Joel in A Matter of Trust. War is a metaphor for a relationship and the relationship just may be with his homeland, his girl, his fans. All is one.
Neighbors brings the protest front and center and decries war, death, and destruction. This is a tough message wrapped in a folk/blues shuffle. Mitchell is stretching out as an artist, revealing diverse musical shadings and a deeper lyrical perspective.
Good Intentions is just Brett and his acoustic. This is a soft beautiful song with some of Brett’s most heartfelt singing. The lyrics express Mitchell’s spiritual longing and his awakening to something bigger. Onion is a metaphor for resilience, the something deeper inside of us that keep us holding on. Puckett’s piano and Mitchell’s insistent guitar riff underscores the songs message of hope and faith. Life can cause us to doubt ourselves like an onion we can peel the layers back to reveal more than meets the eye. An affirmation and a great closer.
So there you have it. If you’re tired of the overproduced, ultra-compressed digital sound blasts that foul the airwaves and you wanna git yer paws on something home cooked and wreckorded then Brett Mitchell’s Small House is for you -
It’s sweeter than a fresh Baci di Dama and is about as much fun as tooling down the back roads in your’69 Mustang, top down and the sunshine kissing your face.

Peace
Bo White

Big Foot Bob & the Toe Tappers....That About Covers it

Another album of covers?
It's not a travesty of talent or a dearth of creativity. Afterall, Lennon did it. So did Van Morrison. Big Foot Bob is keepin' some fine company. And they have some pretty impressive credentials to back it up. These stellar "musicianers" have traveled up and down the highways of the American Dream for awhile and have approached the status of Lomaxian miners excavating an almost forgotten musical legacy. Nothing is beyond the scope of their craft. Their sound is like a wave of warm spring air after an exceptionally cold winter. Maybe it's the authenticity of the music. Or it could be their intuitive "knowing" what is musically compelling. And yet is just might be their love and appreciation for the pure expression of what is indelibly human. A fundamental assumption about musical integrity and that something important is reaching your ears. Regardless, these cats have created the most righteous musical landscape since Sinatra met Dorsey. Believe me, this music ain't archeology. It's timeless. And it's not the type of art one carries in a suitcase. No scratchin' discs on a turntable and shouting "YEAH" over a sampled rhythm track. Real instruments and real music.

Starting with the rockin' B-3 fed cool jazz of Paul B. Allen, the Toe Tappers have fashioned an elegant tapestry of All-American music. The covers aren't just obscure nuggets or gems of unrecognized genius. No, they have the audacity to record and transform HITS. Like puttin' the "Joe Cocker" to their gospel version of Lennon's take on Dylan on Hide Your Love Away . They pay respectful homage to Ray Charles on the blues masterpiece Georgia On My Mind and swing like Taj Mahal on Ain't Nobody Gonna Steal My Jelly Roll. And Bob Schultz' emotive vocal on Compared To What rivals Les McCann's iconoclastic version. His barely contained rage targets political hypocrisy. The sense of betrayal is palpable. And timely...
The disc closes with a joyful paradox on the Dixieland-inspired workout of Cocaine Habit Blues. It is simply sublime.

Bob Schultz is the leader of the band. He is a soulful vocalist with a great sense of style and nuance. His instrumental prowess on piano and saxophone is more than notable...it's exceptional. The core of the band includes Danny Hare (Guitar), Wayne Morton (Bass), Bubba Grundner (drums) and they are uniformly superb throughout. The Toe Tappers are joined by an all-star cast of sometime band-mates David Huber (saxophone) and Doug Decker (piano, organ), and the late/great Jerry Glassel (guitar).

Big Foot Bob and the Toe Tappers just may be a throwback to a long ago time when music was...well... more musical. A time when hearing a live band was sheer delight. The energy of the music drove our passions. It was like taking a kernel of corn at room temperature, adding salt and butter, and heating it up. Bob Schultz and his assorted minstrels do just that. They heat up a wondrous musical stew that incorporates seemingly diverse influences such as jazz, blues, gospel, country, and rock.
And so it goes...
T-Bone meets Louis Jordan in a seamless musical archetype that puts a smile on your lips and a spring in your step. So go ahead slap on the disc and divine the mysteries that unfold between the grooves.

Bo White
April 22, 2004

Ok folks, this is my humble contribution to BFB's CD...the "official" liner notes. I just hope I did it justice

Thanks guys...I love yer style
Bo

Bazooka Jones Gots What It Takes; Knows How To Use It

Bazooka Jones is one of the most exciting bands on today’s scene. Their brand of hook-laden rock and roll thunder and Gore-Gore-Girl group retro is a refreshing return to music that can get you revved-up and thinking that life can be fun after all.
At center stage is a foxy beautiful singer with the non de plume of Viagra. Well, I’d swallow that pill any day, stiff neck and all. She flat out sings her ass off, completely free and uninhibited, like the love shack child of Reg Presley and Kate Pierson. She possesses a marvelous range that allows her to sing like Chrissie Hynde over the power chords, hiccup like Holly or whisper sweet and Lolita-like before the music kicks-in

Hey…OK … I gotta admit - I jones for Viagra but this band is more than the sum of its parts. Each player contributes significantly to the overall sound, feel, look and vibe of Bazooka Jones. Sure, they look a bit oddly drecked out and surreal but that only adds to the fun and helps obscure a sometimes deeper message about commitment, love and the primacy of relationship. It could put off a fan base that comes of age plugged in, turned around and seeking a quick fix.

The guitarist - Mr. Bullethead Jones - is fantastic, slamming out power chords like a skinny Van Halen riffing as if his life depended on it. He crafts stinging solos that hit that E-string with a vengeance yet never neglects the bass line, giving his sound a sonic depth that Kenny Olson would give his left nut for. His power and plunder virtuosity recalls the ascendance of our early guitar heroes before the big hair and trickle-down lies of the eighties would ramp up the discord and change our country forever.
This is much more fun.

The drummer Billy Love is an absolute powerhouse Bonham-eyed monster of a time keeper. He pounds them skins like Johnny Wadd giving it to Misty Dawn for about the umpteenth time and ol’ Misty getting’ off on the last thrust just as much as the first stroke. Love’s beat packs more wallop than a Chuck Morris roundhouse kick and wipes out any doubt that this band came to town to rock yer socks off.
Bazooka Jones is a bizarre-looking, genre jumping testosterone fueled band led by a mighty she-girl and they have more balls than Denny Laine coming on to Lovely Linda with the old man sleeping-it-off in the next room. In other words, they rock.

Their debut CD is a nuclear-powered sonic landscape akin to Apollo 11 blasting off to the moon @ G-Force. The opening two tracks packed the most unexpected and powerful 1-2 wallop since Cheney shot his best corporate buddy in the ass back in naught-six. Pants Off opens the disc with a ferocious gut wrenching gale-force power that takes my breath away and gets me thinking about takin’ a cold shower. This steroid-enhanced chest-pounding slam-fest is a direct descendant of Stepping Stone, Paul Revere’s version, with Mark Lindsey puffed-up and growling like a wild banshee, only Viagra has him beat by a mile. She not only steps up the heat she sets the whole place on fire, Ooh Poo Pah Doo this!
She Wants Me continues the stab-in-the-chest primal ear shattering glory that any died-in-the-wool Kinks fan could appreciate. The sexual ambiguities in the lyrics are a total orgasmic turn-on… and great fun.
Love up has a fifties bee-hive girl group feel that could even get a rise outta Spector as he sits strapped-in and ready to take the juice. This is sing-a-long song with a great rhythmic vibe. I can envision the dance floor filled with “girls and boys makin’ tons of noise, shaking their bones to Bazooka Jones”. Hell…even I shake my groove thing to Love Up…and I thought I lost it a coupla months back at Walmart. Oh baby!! Swinging on the Moon is power pop ballad sung sweet and pure and it makes you believe in love, at least for the moment. The singer’s been around the piss pot a few times and isn’t sure she can find the handle. She does… but her grasp is loosening.
Goodbye Mr. Nice Guy is one of the best kiss-off songs I’ve ever heard. It’s filled with a wondrous dialectic with tongue firmly in cheek e.g., anytime is the right time to say goodbye or he likes to see her cum, she likes to see him go…AMEN sister girl! That rehearsed nicely nice boy is a bit creepy - wonder what’s beneath the mask - a future Bank of America executive?
The lone cover, a heavy version of Lee Hazlewood’s These Boots Were Made For Walking, flashes a memory of Nancy Sinatra dropping the microphone on Sullivan, bending over to reveal her lovely cantilevered and mini-skirted derrière– and at the very moment she mooned the screen - sales went up to a half million! Truth.
Bazooka Ride is the most blatant attempt to fashion bubblegum leer-ics in the best tradition of Kasentz and Katz but it also seems to tag some autobiographical material like pink guitars and whammy bars - the Legend of Bazooka Jones?
Girl on Fire is a break-up song – a song of liberation, freedom the shackles of a controlling relationship. And Life of the Party seems to fit nicely as its companion piece. It might be telling the story of Edie Sedgwick and her central role in the Warhol myth. But it could be about any person with ambition who confronts a dilemma and has to make a choice.
Drive-in Boy opens with a drum riff straight outta the Human Beinz’ Nobody But Me. This is a grievous tale of role reversal. The girl is treating the boy like boys treat girls. Damn sex objects - love Viagra’s panting pastiche that recalls Reg Presley’s lascivious moans on Strange Movies, a great Troggs song featured on Bowie’s ’73 Midnight Special TV show.
Perfect One is a rollicking ballad about love and commitment – when two become a couple…the perfect one. A song guaranteed to get your foot tappin’ and put a smile on your face.
BABYFOOLAROUND is a funky fun tribute to the Troggs with shades of Come Now (the MC5 powered-up version) and a glorious mid-song riff borrowed from Wild Thing - a great closer to one of the best CDs of 2006 (and 2007).

Bazooka Jones is currently recording their next elpee worth of tunes entitled Sweet Tooth Crud. Stay tuned! Check them out @ www.bazookajones.com or myspace.com/bazookajonesdetroit.

Peace,
Bo White

Banana Convention - Dirty Negatives

Banana Convention’s been happening for awhile now and they have weathered more poundings than a catholic girl’s camel toe at high school band camp – it’s more than music being laid down in them woods, mother…

“No one will see us, c’mon over here…under the tree
But…ah…do you have any protection?
Umm…ah …no - but I’ll be careful
You sure?
I promise –I just need to be with you…I…ah…I loooove you
You do?
Ouch, put down yer flute, will ya
Ohh, I’m sorry…ok
Move your elbow
Ouch, that hurts!
How do you unbuckle that damn razzamfraszzzam
Here let me…
Ohh baby…
ohh baby…yes, oh YES
Oh baby…babybabybaby…OH YES…OOOOHHH - oops, sorry.

But the natural state of reality is change and BC has evolved with a series of events that unfolded and brought a welcome new energy into the band. Sometimes things get stale and this quality of stasis becomes a signal to another crossroad - an opportunity to let go and open up to the moment. It’s a state of mind that doesn’t disparage the past or idealize the future. Dirty Negatives is part of a dialectic of creativity and change. The music is edgier and rocks hard and heavy at points yet still retains elements of that early 60’s girl group sound that enamored so many of Banana Convention’s early fans. The addition of one of Ray Torres, one Saginaw’s most innovative guitarists, no doubt boosted their musical capital and between Shar Molina’s husky soulful vocals, Monte Nothelfer’s excellent songwriting, the multiple talents of drummer Chris Howard and the surprisingly fluid and powerful basslines of Sean Drysdale the Banana Convention has a tight stripped down lineup that is ready to rock. The musical focus is no longer bubblegum – though that is always a worthy goal – it is an updated amalgam of styles and approaches that range from Motown to classic rock and experimental sounds. This is a time of possibilities…

The disc opens with Creed, a piece of ambient sound and fury that developed from a cool Sean Drysdale bass line and some heavy metal guitar slinging from inimitable Ray Torres. It recalls the tonal landscape of 7 O’Clock News/Silent Night, a mid-sixties effort by Simon & Garfunkel - though it seems closer aligned to Revolution #9, a Beatles’ experimental montage engineered by John Lennon. In the final analysis Creed is unlike either of its famous cousins, in that it speaks to BC’s self-doubting musical humility and its courage to observe itself as a good set-up band that can get the crowd moist and ready for the next act. Cool Bus is a punked-up road trip song with a strangled lost-key vocal by Mont - and it’s just sloppy enough to make it real…Perfect! This is BC fulfilling the prophecy of the late/great B-52’s with just a touch of inspiration from the mods and rockers of the early-to-mid-sixties.
Friday is one of my favorites ‘cos it takes me back to the early days of rock n’ roll when I was listening to my mother’s Ronettes records. It hearkens back to a more innocent time that wasn’t innocent at all…it was just hidden - and every once in awhile when I heard Ronnie Spector moan ooh, oh, oh…I wanted to know more. Fridays’ updated girl group sound is sure to get people on the dance floor doin’ the bend it and shakin their groove thing. Shar Molina’s earthy singing takes the soda shop and varsity sweater to a more emotionally vulnerable hue and cry due to a lyrical theme of unrequited love. She sounds like a funkier Madonna circa Say a Little Prayer and has the pluck and pipes to make it real and break your heart.. Sugar Buzz combines a soulful Motown musical backdrop with red hot bubblegum leeeric that holds the lovin’ promise of Yummy Yummy. The buzz is more than just sexual release….it’s about love. And it’s irresistible.
The Telephone Song is a phenomenal 50’s style romp that recalls the theme of Billy J. Kramer’s modest hit, Little Children, that bemoans the presence of your best girl’s siblings ‘cos sometimes they’re in the way but if you play it smart and treat ‘em nice you just might win her heart and fulfill your wildest and sickest dreams. Every bubblegum song has a Sheila in it, right? But this one has a Danny too. There is a fine line between bubblegum and the West Side Story lovelorn juvenile delinquents. I love the verse - short and to the point- nothing else needs to be said:
“Danny let me talk to Sheila
Put your sister on the Line”
For Your Love is pure pop confection crafted by Graham Gouldman (of 10CC fame) back when he was just a wisp of a lad and it caught the ear of famed producer Giorgio Gomelsky who was working with the Yardbirds at the time. He took them kicking and screaming into the studio to record their first and most lackluster hit of their career. The Yardbirds hit version of the tune gave it legendary status as the reason Eric Clapton quit the band and created the musical impetus for him to form Cream. The rest is history…though Clapton would resurface years later with a version of I Shot the Sheriff so bereft of the energy and conviction of the original that it makes For Your Love sound like screamin’ EMO. The BC version gives it a new lease on life and a renewed sense of purpose. Shar and the boys take For Your Love from a place of shame to a rock n’ roll redemption. Molina’s soulful vocal anchors a sensual charm and gives it a warmed up groove that far surpasses the original.
She Makes it Easy is a rockin’ still-the-one love song that speaks to the everyday life of coffee and small conflicts that can rip at the seams of a long term relationship. You may get on each other’s nerves but you still hang on – there’s so many shared memories and deep affection and you still give it to each other. Licorice Whip begins with a pulsating bass riff, grinds up to breakneck speed-of-light rocker. This is raw and raucous bubblegum at its best like Alex Chilton doing a heavy metal take on Sugar Sugar - gives it a whole new meaning!
Prognosis is musically complex and has a minor chord vibe that is quite ominous. This is a difficult pill to swallow. The doctor lyric is somewhat of a cliché that serves to ease the raw pain and bitterness that’s underneath. The lyric may have been more authentic with a dose of misogyny and a whole lot of bad words.
Replan is a Ray Torres original. It’s a mid-tempo dance friendly arrangement belies the dark message in the song though Torres’ blistering guitar work underscores the cry of confusion and despair in the lyrics. The protagonist is in deep trouble, a downward spiral from which he feels no escape. He is immersed in misery and doesn’t know that the only way out of hell is acceptance. The chorus “Maybe I’ll pull up a chair and spin it through my replan” is a pre-contemplative stage that could prove hopeful or fatal depending on the level of denial - a heavy theme for BC and a signal of its deeper musical convictions.
Rust Belt Blues is a straight ahead up-tempo rocker with a marvelous bassline. The slowed-up 12 bar blues coda seems a fitting musical accompaniment to the metaphorical jab at the sad state of our community.
Anyway is a stone masterpiece that is both emotionally layered and lyrically complex. It’s an acoustic folk tune that tells a story about making peace with those things that you cannot change and finding meaning in suffering. Is it possible to let go? Shar’s mature vocal colors the lyrics in nuanced sepia tones reminiscent of Christine (Perfect) McVie prior to her soiree with Fleetwood Mac. This could be a college radio hit – that’s where the best music is heard.

On their first full elpee of tunes the Banana Convention reached deep and creates a body of music with emotional depth and maturity. It’s like 1910 Fruitgum Company in a 1969 concert at Mt. Holly promoting their final LP Hard Ride…heavy guitar, horn section, long jams…and then 1,2 3 Red Light . I loved every minute of it then and I love it now. Hats off to BC!

Peace,
Bo White

Andy Reed - The Great Compression EP

It was a helluva scamp, more dumb luck than coincidence and perhaps, just an unusual twist and turn of circumstances – still…it was a thrill of a lifetime. It started with Laura, this psychologist friend of mine, seems she’s a big Beatles fan, collected all the records, cds, videos and the odds and sods that accompany that type of passion. Her goal was to meet the Beatles, at least one Beatle before she died. It was a few years back when she told me her cousin, Noogie Wicker, is a musician and that his group Jackie-O-Sister Lovers was playing the Cavern Club in Liverpool. It was a benefit for something, can’t remember offhand, I suppose it doesn’t matter. But what does matter, at least for this review was that Paul McCartney turned up at the benefit and shared the stage with the Sister Lovers. They got along smashingly and agreed to collaborate again someday when they were back in the states. Well, as luck would have it, Sir Paul traveled back to Arizona in late November fresh from the debut of his latest classical offering, Ecce Cor Meum, at the Royal Albert Hall. Though the music raised a few eyebrows and seemed to register just above tepid on the response meter, Sir Paul was undaunted, even enthusiastic…and ready to take on the world. So Paul rang up Noogie who called Laura who told me and I contacted my buddy Andy Reed. This was it…finally - a chance to meet a Beatle! But to everyone’s disappointment Paul had to cancel our meeting, something about a court solicitor. So, Paul apologized and gave Noogie the exact location of a portal to the afterlife so we could interview a “Dead Beatle” - yep, John Lennon. George declined citing ill health and a preference for a disembodied state. Yoko Ono first discovered this portal back in ‘85 but kept it secret for all these years, only her closet confidantes, spiritual advisors, and investment bankers knew about it. According to Noogie, the astrological aspects had to be aligned with the algorithm of the earth’s rotation in order for the portal to open. Noogie calculated that perfect alignment would occur at 7pm on December 7th in the front yard of Andy Reed’s home. Andy and I were beside ourselves, my god, this is a dream come true to meet a dead Beatle...it had to rank just a notch above meeting dead Elvis! What a thrill!!! Finally the day arrived, I got to Andy’s around 6pm, Laura and her husband arrived a few minutes later and at 7pm. Noogie knocked Andy’s front door with John standing beside him. After the obligatory introductions – “Hallo, I’m John and I’m as dead as a doorknob - nudge, nudge, wink, wink” - an awkward silence filled the room. It was excruciating, I could hear myself swallowing as I attempted to say something clever. But nothing came out except a strangled wheeze and a whistle of hot air. I was paralyzed. Finally John spoke…to Andy,
“Heaaaad yau hauv eh neeuw recaaahden.”
Andy nodded, “Ahem, yes it’s called the great compression, it’s just 5 songs, would you like to listen to it?
Shor ‘enuuff, laddie buck, sooo wha doos grrreat cumpression mean”?
And that’s how it started…

"Hmm. wha’s the neame of the fuurst one, cum again…The Day The World Was Lost?...hmmm - like that harmooonika, sounds like Baaakcly James Harvooost… or a bit like George unn Ohnlee A Noothen Sung”. And then Lennon leads us in singing’ the chorus,
When I leave you, don’t forget my name
Don’t wear it out
Cos you’re the reason I got beat in this game
So don’t ever change

"luv them wuurds, reminds me ovv Yoko…

at that point Lennon looks a wistful, even sad, “We was jus’ wuurkin’ it all owt when it happened…damn her fir takin’ up with Elliot, I wuz barely cold und pushin’ up the daisies when Yoko stahhted shaggin’that bahhhstid …and he sez he’s a frriend ovv mine - and I donna cah what Yoko sez about May and me …it was hehr idea in the fuurst plez, it donna givv her the right to shag evvvryone like some tweedy coont affftah I’m gonn.”

What about your relationship with Paul?"

Hmmm, Macca....he ain't dunn noothing since Yuusterday. Now he's juust Anoother Day

Oh...I see - sounds kinda familiar

Well, it shoood ya twit, it's one of me song lyeerics. Doncha remummmbah How doo Ye sleep at nacht?...baaasturd, he's always hadd hees head uup hees boooshwah arse.

We all sat silently, stunned at Lennon’s brutal honesty and wondering why a spirit would be so attached to such earthly matters and be so angry. We didn’t know quite what to say so we listened to the next track…

June
At the first piano trill, Lennon perked up, “sooonds like ah Carol King riff…hmm, (he sings)“It’s too Laayt… luv her! And I dig yer vocal sounds like the Rup chards or the Beeech Bouys, he sings, “Let the Love shine”… I cahn feel Che sugah plooomb fahary oon tha wun. Yer gitar solo is smaaashing…full booodied is that a Fendah strut?

”Andy, tha next toon – Suuuft Taagit - sounds like a few old chums oov mine…Peter and Gordon – right outta World Without Love. Paul worked out tha woon oout. I luv the aloneness in yer wuurds”

”No, No, No…hmmm, that minar chorrd is quite the menacing lil buggah, innit? Yer lyeerics are jus what I’m going thruuu….canna get outta the paaast, and soma tha time I feel so sick and boooring like a spiv or some daft wanker. All them earthly questions have lingahhed evah since… "

"What’s that last one…Smile Looook and Listen? Ahhndeee…yer cool synthesize rriff sooonds like that chap Roondgren or the Cars…I keep up on all the latest ya know, up to 1980 anyway. The middle eight sounds like suuumthin I woood write….nice. I can hare the message…"left feelin’ so dirty but endin’ up so clean” - sooonds like me.

"Andy, we was the hip ones in the sixties. But it’s nahtt like that anymooore. I luv yer music, you can doo anything…the unknooown is what-it-is, donna be frightened by it all, thaats why people are scurrying about chasin dreams, illusions. Bollocks to 'em...the dream is over....it's yer turn”

With that Lennon walked out the front door and disappeared into the whiff of a cloud. We looked at each other silently but knowing…
Andy Reed is the toppermost of the poppermost

Give Peace a Chance
Bo White
1/8/07

A Man Called Destruction AKA The Tortured Genius of Alex Chilton

Hey baby in the 1980s
Baby Doc brought it up from Haiti
Can’t get it on
Or even get high
C’mon Baby, fuck me and die

And he speaks to our worst, on the down low fears with :


I worry about the future
Junky blood is gonna pollute you
Pretty soon we’re all gonna get it
It’s time to buy some stuff on credit
No Sex

But the unrealized genius of No Sex is only part of the problem. I’m really trying to understand the almost lost art of creating and performing original rock n’ roll music. 30 years ago Greg Shaw (BOMP Records) wrote that live original music was becoming cultish and that the mass appeal of rock music had declined, just as did with Big Band, Blues and Jazz.
For every time there is a season, and now rock ‘n roll sits on a shelf in Cleveland, like a dusty artifact in a museum to be gawked at wearily and half bored like middle school kids on a class trip not wanting to go and caring less about rock and roll music when they could free-rap like Robert Johnson riffin’ with the Devil at the crossroads. But it’s tight to mug with Aguilara’s tiny stage dress and wonder what it might be like with someone like her – sex is always part of it. But the exhibit conveys little of the energy and sexual tension of the music - it’s all too…perfect. Music was never intended to be perfect or to be put on the shelf. Doesn’t matter if it is blues, jazz or gospel, the medium is the message and the message is steamy, slicked back, all wet and swampy. Just ask Charles Fountain from the Blind Boys of Alabama. Back in the day when he was just a pup, in some little backwoods town in Mississippi or Alabama, a grandma would come to the revival and bring him back home to her 15 year-old granddaughter. You didn’t know exactly what to expect - until she made a move. And she always made a move. It was kept quiet yet it was known to all the gospel performers. One show after another – it was hard to call upon real emotion…every time, after all its just business -maybe a little comfort would do. But for grandma it was real, it was all about experiencing the truth – the Holy Ghost. Lawd have mercy, let God’s will be done!

Maybe that’s why I dig Alex Chilton…he sifts through the bullshit and tells it like it is – while speaking in tongues. His gospel is at once exhilarating and infuriating. I don’t really understand his point of view yet I seem to “get it” intuitively. Which brings us to the best record I’ve heard in 2007: Alex Chilton – Live in London. Only problem is it was recorded in 1980 and it was thought to be so criminally bad that it wasn’t released until 1982. I absolutely love it. And I can’t stop playing it. If I go a day without it, I become anxious and shaky and I lose control of all bodily functions. Call me crazy for my cultish devotion to Chilton’s Dadaism. Chilton no doubt is a “doomed artist on a collision course to hell” why else would he record such a mess as Live in London and then decide to release it. In turn it’s both invigorating (the glorious Rock Hard) and irritating (the drizzle and sludge of No More the Moon Shines on Lorena). His early success is covered by a punked-up and sloppy version of The Letter – perfect. This may be the spit-in-the-face to the suits that controlled every aspect of the Box Tops career. Chilton was only 16 at the time. In a later interview, he referred to the experience as “scummy”. The disc opens with a dusky slowed down version of the decadent punk classic Bangkok –

Two slanty-eyed men lying in bed
one got his mauser, the other said
Bangkok

Making love the Japanese way
I learned aggressively in Hong Kong
Bangkok

In rapid succession the Chilton gospel comes alive with energetic versions of Big Star’s “In the Street” followed by solo gems such as the astonishing,sonic perfection of “Hey Little Child”, the testosterone fueled, tongue in cheek “Rock Hard” and the hilarious My Rival. Chilton’s guitar work is supremely sloppy and iconoclastic. This cat just flat out plays his ass off. He’s a masterful guitarist that eschews technique for sound and feel. Nighttime (from Big Star3) is a Lennon-esque minimalist masterpiece about pain and longing. Chilton digs down into his early Memphis roots and dusts off a coupla gems in masterful fashion -Train Kept a Rollin’ is better than the Yardbirds version and has a heavy rockabilly sound that rivals the Johnny Burnette’s original and Alligator Man takes us way back to an eccentric Cajun folklore. Big Star’s pop masterpiece September Gurls gets an undeserved hurried and somewhat disappointing treatment. And though the Panther Burns’ juiced and ready “Stranded on a Dateless Night” is a pop rock gem the disc closes with the out of place yet almost charming Carter Family oldie “No More the Moon Shines on Lorena”. What was Alex thinking…did he purposely set out to piss off his well-bred British fans – or was he giving them an education? What more can we expect of a man called Destruction?

Peace,
Bo White

Epilogue: Alex Chilton continued to evolve as an artist after moving to New Orleans in the eighties. He dropped out of the music business for six months after the poor reception of his Live in London CD, working as a dishwasher and a tree trimmer. In due time he was back performing and recording obscure yet phenomenal musical gems in a series of EPs that included Feudalist Tarts, No Sex and Black List. His association with New Orleans’ led him to a more restrained cool-jazz approach to his craft and his incredible guitar technique continued to expand and evolve. New York punk mavens, The Replacements, wrote and recorded a song in his honor entitled, Alex Chilton, of all things - go figure. Chilton released Live in Anvers in 2004. Reviews suggest it is a typical Chilton show, solid and professional with good singin' and good playin'. It should also be noted that Chilton was still living in New Orleans during the Katrina debacle and experienced some harrowing moments before he was rescued and brought to safety. Alex Chilton is a survivor.
If you want to learn more about Alex Chilton and the golden era of Memphis music and culture, pick up Robert Gordon's remarkable no-holds-barred chronicle It Came From Memphis.