The 500 - #185 - Self Titled Debut - The Stooges

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: #185
Album Title: Self-titled Debut
Artist: The Stooges

Genre: Proto-Punk, Garage Rock, Rock, Experimental

Recorded: The Hit Factory, New York City, New York

Released: August, 1969
My age at release: 4
How familiar was I with it before this week: A little

Is it on the 2020 list? No
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Be Your Dog

Growing up, I genuinely thought I could do anything with my life. My career aspirations changed regularly. During my adolescence, I wanted, and thought, I could be, a professional hockey player, a writer, an actor, a teacher, a psychologist, a musician, and even an Anglican minister. I have my parents to thank for my ebullient optimism and prodigious confidence. Not once did either balk at the grand designs I had for my adulthood.

Me at age 11, positively brimming
with confidence and epic ambition.

Iggy Pop (born James Newell Osterberg Jr.) had the same good fortune as I did. Raised in Ypsilanti, Michigan, his parents were high school teachers who supported his every passion, particularly his love of music. They saved so that he could purchase a drum kit when he was in the fifth grade. The family was not wealthy and the Osterbergs lived in a mobile home in a trailer park. However, as Iggy put it in a 2007 Rolling Stone Magazine interview, he was rich beyond measure:

"Once I hit junior high in Ann Arbor, I began going to school with the son of the president of Ford Motor Company, with kids of wealth and distinction. But I had a wealth that beat them all. I had the tremendous investment my parents made in me. I got a lot of care. They helped me explore anything I was interested in. This culminated in their evacuation from the master bedroom in the trailer, because that was the only room big enough for my drum kit. They gave me their bedroom."

Osterberg's music career began in high school and he performed with a variety of bands, including one named The Iguanas. It was this connection that earned him the nickname "Iggy". After dropping out of The University of Michigan, Iggy travelled to Chicago to play in more bands and learn about the blues. Upon returning to Michigan, Iggy decided to put his drum sticks down for a microphone. As he put it, "I got tired of looking out from behind a bunch of butts every night." In 1967, he formed The Psychedelic Stooges taking inspiration from the blues and the experimental and garage rock bands of the era, such as The Sonics, MC5, and The Doors (the latter two groups having, collectively, five records on The 500.) The MC5 (Motor City Five) were at The Stooges’ first gig, a Halloween Party in Detroit in 1968. Impressed, MC5 invited the band to open for them the next year in New York City, shortly after the release of this week’s self-titled debut record.

Flyer advertising the
1969 NYC concert featuring
MC5 and The Stooges.

This is the second of three records by The Stooges on The 500 list. I wrote about #191, Fun House, a few weeks ago; their 1973 record, Raw Power, appears at #128. The first line-up of the band comprised Iggy Pop; brothers Dave (guitar) and Scott Asheton (drums); and Dave Alexander (bass). It was the last three musicians who gave Iggy the surname "Pop" after a Detroit local called Dave Popp whom they thought Iggy looked like after Iggy shaved his eyebrows for a gig. However, on the debut record, he is billed by another pseudonym, Iggy Stooge.

Iggy (centre) on stage with The Stooges. (l-r), Alexander, S. Asheton, 
Pop, and D Asheton.

Earlier this week, I was chatting about this Stooges' record with Various Artists, a friend and former guest writer on The 500 Blog. We agreed that it is an enjoyable debut, with some terrific songs and one unlistenable track -- the strange, experimental 10-minute "psychedelic" opus called We Will Fall. Rolling Stone Magazine writer Edmund O. Ward called the piece "a ten-minute exercise in boredom that ruins the first side of the record."

Various Artists let me know that We Will Fall was necessitated because the band only had "about 15 minutes worth of material" when the opportunity to record in New York arrived. Consequently, they wrote three new compositions over the five days they were in The Hit Factory studios. The other two tracks, Real Cool Time and Not Right were also quickly cobbled together through improvisational jam sessions.

The Hit Factory studios when it was located on 54th street. It
has been located in six New York locations over 55 years.

I'll admit, I started skipping We Will Fall after my first two listens to the entire record. However, its presence made me respect Iggy even more. The confidence his parents instilled in him has shone throughout his career. He has been a risk-taker and innovator who dares to try new things. He "swings for the fences" with his artistic endevours and seems unruffled in the face of adversity.  Still performing, shirtless and energetically at the age of 77, Iggy has earned the accolades afforded him and the legendary moniker, "The Godfather of Punk Rock".

Oh, and as for my long ago ambitions – I became a school teacher, act in amateur theatre, noodle about on a few instruments and still play old timers hockey. Oh yea…and I write this weekly blog. So, I got a few of those boxes ticked.

The 500 - #415 - Debut - Van Halen (Part Two)

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

Album # 415

Album Title: Debut (Self-Titled)
Artist: Van Halen
Genre: Hard Rock, Heavy Metal
Recorded: Sunset South Recorders, Hollywood, California
Released: February, 1978
My age at release: 12
How familiar was I with it before this week: Very
Song I am putting on my Spotify Mix: Runnin' with the Devil

Part Two--About a week ago, as I was thinking about this blog post, a friend of mine Glen "Archie" Gamble posted (below) an incredibly cool picture of Van Halen from this era. It was captioned "When Gods Walked The Earth" and those feelings of star-struck awe from my youth returned in a flash. I reached out to him to share some thoughts on the band. He is a writer, traveller, music fan and has been a professional drummer for 30+ years. He is also host of the YouTube Travel-Vlog The Gamble Ramble I knew he would have an interesting perspective.

Van Halen's original Late 70s/Early 80s line-up

It was the summer of 1978 and, despite being only ten, I was quickly burgeoning into a dedicated fan of music. At that time, the band KISS ruled my turntable and, almost obsessively, my life. One day, a school chum I knew only vaguely invited several of us to his house to hear a band that he proclaimed "...better than KISS".

"Better then KISS!?" "Blasphemy!" KISS was the hottest band in the world in 1978 and had been at the forefront of my every waking thought every day of that scorching summer in Brantford, Ontario. I wanted to laugh off the suggestion and walk away, but the prospect of a cool, air-conditioned basement was too appealing. I'd humour him.

Kiss (Original Line Up)

As the needle dropped on the first side of the record, an uneasy feeling crept over me. The sound of a massive group of car horns (tuned to A-440 Hz) began to hum through the speakers, slowly, the sound dipped to an E tuning and the car horn symphony was supplanted with a eight throbbing bass pulses. I was riveted, fully attuned to the "bottom-end" attack on the speakers, when a sprite-like "plink" as a pick scraped the strings on the headstock of a guitar made the hair on my arms stand on end.  

Then the drums steamed in, full force, with a mighty kick/snare introduction, and we were off to the races. As this sonic shockwave rolled over me, the voice of a true Rock & Roll god graced my ears...but wait...this wasn't singing in the traditional sense? It sounded like the wail of a half-drunk lion living on a diet of Jack Daniels, Marlboros and Cheeseburgers. "Who IS this guy?" I thought as I grabbed for the album cover. The "lion" in question...David Lee Roth...one-part Jim Dandy and two-parts "Rat-Pack" crooner...shaken, not stirred. 

As the song continued to play, I stared at the record cover, mouth agape. With the confusion of adolescent loyalty racing through my brain, I began to embrace it. "Was my school chum right? Am I listening to my new favourite band?" 

"I live my life like there's no tomorrow!" The incredible opening lyrics to the band's first original hit Runnin' With The Devil. But, it wasn't just the words he sang. It was the perfectly timed screams and his impossibly perfect heavy-metal take on jazz style scat-singing that made his vocal delivery so remarkable. 

I fought it, fiercely. I had to. How can ANYTHING be better than KISS?! But, the Panzer like assault of sonic waves continued from this basement stereo. The next song, Eruption, gave me pause.

"There is no way that is a guitar player!" I confidently announced to my friends.

They quickly agreed, after all, I was the musician in our group.
"It's got to be a keyboard or something..." I proclaimed as this musical assault of lightning fast melodic scales continued to pound us all into aural submission.

I would soon learn I was wrong. It was not a keyboard...but a fretboard...masterfully played by Edward Van Halen, perhaps the greatest guitarist in the world, credited with revolutionizing the instrument with his finger-tapping virtuosity.

Yep...in that cool, dark basement in 1978, I split my allegiance from the KISS Army and shared active duty in the Van Halen Corps. 

Signed, Sealed & Delivered and Reporting for Duty, Sir.

Glen "Archie" Gamble

The 500 - #368 - Eagles (debut) - Eagles

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

The 500 - #441 - Suicide - Self Titled Debut

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

My plan (amended). 

• One record per week(ish) and at least two complete listens.
• A blog post for each, highlighting the important details and, when possible, a background story that relates to the record.
• No rating scale - just an effort to expand my appreciation of diverse forms of music.
• Listen to Josh and his guest on The 500 podcast to gather additional information and insights.

Album # 441

Album Title: Self-Titled Debut
Artist: Suicide
Released: December, 1977
My age at release: 12
How familiar was I with it before this week: Not at All
Song I am putting on my Spotify Mix: Ghost Rider

The list from which The 500 Podcast and my weekly posts draw their inspiration was originally published by Rolling Stone Magazine in 2005. It was compiled in 2003 when the magazine asked a panel of artists, producers, industry executives and journalists to select their favourite albums. These were then evaluated by the Ernst & Young accounting firm which "devised a point system" to tabulate the responses. The list was revised in 2012 and this is the list to which I adhere.

However, the criteria used to determine which albums were, and were not, the "Greatest Of All Time" is not easily ascertained. Is a voter's choice based on... 

• musicianship?
• Billboard chart position?
• record sales?
• musical impact or influence?
• personal taste?

Additionally, The 500 List is not without criticism. Edna Gunderson of USA Today described it as predictable, "weighted toward testosterone-fueled vintage rock". Additionally, Jonny Sharp, a contributor to the New Music Express described the list as, "a soulless canon-centric (list) of the same-old, tired titles," noting that "when only one album in the top ten is less than 40 years old, you need to rethink your approach."

I've done my best to avoid over-analyzing The 500 but I'll admit skimming through its titles. Perhaps it is because I am "a testosterone-fueled fan of vintage rock" who is over 40 that I am a fan of many of these records. Entry number 441, the debut album by the band Suicide, is not one of them.

To be fair, I played it five times in a variety of settings (my home stereo, on headphones & through car speakers). The opening track, Ghost Rider, which I have included on my Spotify Playlist, is the song I enjoyed the most. It draws its title from a lesser known Marvel comic book and its protagonist. 

This is the debut album by Suicide, the New York Minimalist, Electronic-Rock, Synth-Punk duo of Alan Vega and Martin Rev. Vega, a visual artist and sculptor, met Rev, an avant-garde jazz keyboardist, in the late-sixties. After witnessing the burgeoning New York punk scene, the two decided to "create art".

Rev bought a cheap, Japanese electric keyboard and ran it through a series of bass-and-treble boosting pedals to enhance its limited sound. Simultaneously, Vega would sing, speak and scream improvised lyrics over the strange, dry, electronic hum.

Vega (left) and Rev in 1988

If you've never heard this record, I encourage you to listen to a few tracks to experience this bizarre cacophony.

Unsurprisingly, the record was not well received critically and it failed to make the charts. Regardless, it served as a template for the electronic sounds that would follow and it is easy to see how it influenced bands such as Nine Inch Nails, Daft Punk, Radiohead and Devo (whom I wrote about last week). It has also be praised by music heavyweights Bruce Springsteen and U2.

Although I did not enjoy the record, I have to admit this record deserves its place on The 500. Alan Vega's passing in 2016 was recognized by countless artists who celebrate his and Martin Rev's five-record "art experiment" as groundbreaking and profoundly important.

The 500 - #473 - The Smiths - The Smiths

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

My plan (amended). 

• 1 or 2 records per week & at least 2 complete listens.
• A quick blog post for each, highlighting the important details and a quick background story.
• No rating scale - just an effort to expand my appreciation.

Album # 473

Album Title: The Smiths
Artist: The Smiths
Released: February, 1984
My age at release: 18
How familiar am I with it: Very Little
Song I am putting on my Spotify Mix: This Charming Man
Great Lyric:
As long as the hand that rocks the cradle is mine
Ceiling shadows shimmy by
And when the wardrobe towers like a beast of prey
There's sadness in your beautiful eyes
Oh, your untouched, unsoiled, wondrous eyes
My life down I shall lie 
(The Hand that Rocks the Cradle)

"I hate The Smiths" ... I have said those words on more than one occasion, particularly between1984 and 1990.

That's odd for me to admit. I regularly tell my student that "hate is a word we reserve for truly awful things - like war, famine and racism".

But, it was a different time then and, real or imagined, I was on the opposite side of a divide between the people who liked bands like The Smiths ... and...people who liked...good music ;-). 

This record came out when I was in high school. My clique were, for the most part, into classic rock (Led Zeppelin, The Who) and heavy metal (Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath) with a few of us dabbling in progressive rock (Rush, Genesis), new wave (The Police) experimental rock (Pink Floyd, Frank Zappa) & folk rock (Neil Young, Crosby, Stills & Nash).

As with most high school cliques - we rolled with an "Us & Them Attitude". It was a reality captured powerfully in both the film The Breakfast Club and the brilliant, but short-lived, series Freaks & Geeks. I still identify strongly with the latter because it nearly perfectly captures my entire high school experience...from my passion for Dungeons & Dragons to my singular obsession with the band Rush. 

There is an old yearbook picture that I wish I could find. It is from about 1982 and features me in my denim jacket, covered in Rush patches & pins. I am standing with the other members of the high school Dungeons & Dragons Club. It is the geeky me on the precipice of freakdom (skipping school, partying & experimenting...on all fronts). As one friend put it, "Grade 12 was the best three years of my life!" This picture might just be our friend Terry, the first of us to turn 19.

Being part of a clique that accepts you for who you are (or at least who you were trying to be at the time) is transcendent. It is probably the most important thing on every high school student's mind - other than the overwhelming desire to connect with a romantic partner. The feeling of belonging outside the family unit is at its zenith during the teenage years. Attaining it is sometimes challenging and often fleeting, or at the minimum, transient. Looking back, it is sometimes difficult to remember how powerfully important it was. As Guy Garvey of Elbow eloquently puts it, in the song Lippy Kids

Lippy kids on the corner again, settling like crows
Though I never perfected that simian stroll
The cigarette senate was everything then.

The cost of membership to the "cigarette senate" was loyalty. Collectively, we had somehow decided that navel-gazing, post-punk, misery-pop was an anathema. Posers, Preps and Popular kids liked it - so it was not for us. We painted with a wide brush and many acts I enjoy today were on our hit list - Depeche Mode, The Cure, Joy Division, Echo & the Bunnymen, Yaz...and without a doubt, The Smiths. 

My friend Steve, whom I mentioned in my Husker Du post, used to call it "I don't know why music". However, just typing those words does not nearly capture the cleverness and depth of the derogation. 

He was dating a girl who listened to bands like The Smiths. When he would borrow her car, the cassette in the player would always be an easy target for our scorn. He would turn it on and, in a profoundly melancholy, comical faux-British accent begin to sing "and I don't know why" at perfect intervals. It always seemed to fit and never failed to make me laugh.

So, The Smiths. We meet again.

While preparing this post, I spoke with a friend who was is a fan. He informs me that I am failing to appreciating this band. He wants to listen to it with me...so, I'll report back when that happens.

At this point - the guitar playing is growing on me...I won't say hate - but I really don't enjoy Morrissey - particularly when he uses that bizarrely comical yet still gloomily falsetto voice to sing lyrics that are sometimes morose, sometimes narcissistic and regularly disturbing.

I am open to feedback - Comment below

Stay tuned for Part Two

    

Ten Influential Albums - Day 2

This is an update from a post from June 20, 2018 

The Influential Album Challenge is circulating on Social Media platforms again. I have been asked to participate and am revisiting my picks from 2018. 

My first post, found here, was the Soundtrack to Oliver. I am moving chronologically and this post lands us in 1977 when I was 11 and 12.

I was in grade eight in the farming and fishing town of Kingsville, Ontario. At the time, Acceleration (skipping grades) and Retention (failing grades) were the norm. Consequently, one might be in a classroom with students who differed in age by four years.

A student named Jari arrived from Finland that autumn. He did not speak English, so they put him in grade four. I was fortunate to have my early education in England and was moved a grade forward. Consequently, Jari (13) was in grade four and Marc (12) was in grade eight. The figurative playing field was, however, levelled on the literal playing field. At recess, we struck up a friendship competing in sports -- mainly road hockey.

Jack Miner Public School in Kingsville, Ontario

Part way through the year, with graduation on the horizon, Jari was moved to my class because his English language skills had rapidly developed and he was also starting to look like a young adult. 

That summer, I was invited to Jari's 14th birthday party. I'd heard he'd made high school friends in his neighbourhood. When I arrived, I was the youngest person there. I can't remember what I bought him (or, rather, what my parents had bought me to give him), but every other gift was an album.

Someone bought him Meat Loaf's Bat out of Hell. The cover seemed maniacal and sinister. Little did I realize it was essentially ballads and Broadway-style show-tunes.  

Another gift was the debut album from The Cars. I had never heard anything remotely "electronic". It seemed avant-garde and ultra modern. I purchased my copy a few months later from the Devonshire Mall in Windsor -- spending money I'd  earned through babysitting and newspaper delivery. 

In 1982, the song Moving in Stereo was be stamped on my impressionable teenage brain during a scene featuring the stunning Phoebe Cates in the film Fast Times at Ridgemont High. If you are familiar with the film, you know the scene.

I still enjoy The Cars record immensely. It introduced me to new-wave and synth-pop. The lyrics are quirky and, although it would take me years to appreciate it, ironic. Jari and I drifted apart after I moved to London. I'm glad to have known him for many reasons and this album is certainly one of them.