DVD Review: Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young – Fifty By Four: Half a Century of CSNY

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2015
Images from the Internet

Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young – Fifty By Four: Half a Century of CSNY

Executive Producers: Rob Johnstone
Narrated by Thomas Arnold
Pride Films / Chrome Dreams Media
165 minutes, 2013 / 2014
www.chromedreams.co.uk
www.mvdvisual.com

I was wondering what should be the next DVD I would review. There is a backlog, so I have quite a few from which to choose. While out at the supermarket, as I pondered, weak and weary over a quaint and curious walking through the door, while I nodded, even though shopping, suddenly there came a sound over the PA. It was “Our House,” by Crosby, Stills and Nash (CSN). I took that as a signal that Fifty By Four was next. I had avoided it, honestly more due to its length of nearly three hours, so I decided to delve in and review that, and then watch it…er…nevermore.

Growing up, with the possible exception of “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” and “Ohio,” CSNand/orY were pretty peripheral to me, even though they were one of my older brother’s favorites. By the time the late 1960s came around, I had essentially stopped listening to the radio much, and focused more on film and television for entertainment. When they reunited on Live Aid in 1985, their set had some wincingly off-key harmonies. It wasn’t until the Ramones came along that I was lulled back into music. The catalog of CSNY was not really on my menu then either, as the punk revolution took me over. It wasn’t until someone gave me a CSN/CSNY Greatest Hits CD during the late 1990s that I started to enjoy more of their material, though a lot of it still leaves me scratching my head. And now, here we are.

Chrome Dreams (and their subsidiaries, such as Sexy Intellectual, Prism, and Pride) is a British company that does extremely detailed histories of both British and American bands or singers, including Clapton, Dylan, Zappa, the Stones and the Beatles. I have seen a few Neil Young bios by them before, and even reviewed a couple, but this is the first one I’ve seen for the whole megillah (though I know there are others from them).

CSNY fans tend to run towards the rabid, much like the Dead’s, so there is a question of who is going to watch this. For the die-hard fan, at least the first 2 hours are probably not going to be anything you don’t already know. If you’re more of a casual fan and are into music history, such as me, well, this is ideal (hell, I even read Slash’s annoying autobiography).

The DVD starts in the Laurel Canyon of Los Angeles during the mid-‘60s, with David Crosby in the Byrds, Stephen Stills and Neil Young in Buffalo Springfield, and Graham Nash in the Hollies over in the U. of K. It was the time just before the hippie revolution and the counterculture was on the cusp beyond that. It was the rise of the singer-songwriter (as opposed to the folkie, which would overlap) essentially begun the day Dylan went electric (okay, Dylan is credited here, but that last part isn’t in the documentary, but is my theory, which is mine, too).

Then, as now and always in any singular scene, bands were incestuous, and members often flow from one band to the next. Young quit Springfield, Crosby is brought in after the Monterey Pop Fest (but not before he discovers Joni Mitchell), and Nash is bored by the stuffy Brit band and wants to go all Carnaby Street. He hooks up with them and Crosby, Still and Nash are sprung. One might consider this one of the first supergroups, and that’s even before Young kinda joins the fold.



CSNY then

In a hippy dippy dopey (pot reference, FYI) idealistic mentality, they decide they are not a band, but will creatively shack up as individual singer-songwriters who perform together. But like common-law marriages, things start to get complex, especially when Stills comes out as macho Alpha Male, taking the word control of the control room literally. He ends up playing most of the instruments on their first album, Crosby, Stills and Nash (1969). By the time they start to tour, Crosby and Nash have no idea how to play the material and they get some back-up, including drummer Dallas Taylor and ex-Motown bassist, Greg Reeves. Soon, they are joined by Young (after his two failed solo albums), also an Alpha. Now the non-band is a band (see: complicated).

Over the next few decades, they would dance around each other, alternatively quitting, firing, rehiring each other due to (among other reasons) Crosby’s drug use (possibly due in part to the pain of losing his girlfriend, Christine Hinton, in a car crash), Nash and Rita Coolidge developing a relationship after she and Stills had a “tryst” (as it is described on the DVD; same thing happened with Joey and Johnny Ramone a decade later), and more ridiculously, the macho ego posturing of Stills and Young. It seems the only time they actually all worked together well was during periods of political outrage, such as the post-Kent State shooting “Ohio,” which pretty much became the anthem for the unrest in the period.

Again, most of their catalog and history are well known and documented through the late 1960s and ‘70s. The DVD especially became interesting in the last hour as the documentary starts focusing on the later part of their career, from the 1980s on, as I know so little about this period, as I was way too involved in the whole first wave punk movement to give a care about CSN(Y). Yet, even with that, I noticed that there was no mention of the media attention of Y’s joining CSN at the abovementioned Live Aid in ’85.

I know I talk about this every time I review one of Chrome Dream’s releases, but here ya go: This label has an easily identifiable, nearly auteur way of presenting their stories (usually produced by Rob Johnstone). Usually, it’s Tom Arnold doing the narration (he does a great job), as we see lots of photos, clips and interviews. The clips are a mixture of live in-concert, television performances, music videos and occasionally record cuts. Some of them are easily accessible, and some are quite rare, but in nearly all cases, they almost never last more than 20 seconds before Arnold begins talking. In some ways this is annoying because you want to hear the song, but on the other, well, this is already almost 3 hours, and it would have been more than double that if the full clips were shown. I’d like to see them include a second disc that just includes the full musical segments.



CSNY now

As for the interviews, as I’ve whined about before, there are all males talking, like women were only peripheral. The band’s momentum constantly changed due to women, including July Collins, who is never mentioned even though one of their earliest hits, “Suite: Judy Blue Eyes” is about Stills’ relationship with her.

That being said, this is one of the better selections of interviews I’ve seen for one of this label’s releases. Sure, there is still the writers who give us second-hand stories and opinions (and they didn’t include the excellent Jeff Tamarkin or Richie Unterberger, both of whom write extensively on this period), but there is a large number of people who were actually there¸ giving first-hand anecdotes, rather than stories. All four of CSNY are represented, though it is via previous television interview clips through the years. However, their producers, studio engineers, and band members (yes, I’m using the term “band” and not “collective”) are interviewed specifically for this release. There are, in part, four drummers (Dallas Taylor, Joe Vitale, Joe Lala, Chad Cromwell) and three bassists (Greg Reeves, Calvin “Fuzzy” Samuel, George “Chocolate” Perry) represented, some telling what it was like in the studio, or on tour. As much as I like the writers, even those who saw the band live, it’s the ones who were in the trenches (an appropriate word considering all the conflicts within the performers) that mean more to me.

The nicest thing about this is that so many stories about ‘60s musician end with an untimely demise, but as of this review all members of CSN and Y are still kickin’ and performing – and getting somewhat along. They finally realized they “gotta get down to it.”

The extras are scarce but interesting. Other than some text info about the interviewees and a link to see more online, there is a 14+-minute short titled “Joe Vitale: The American Dream Sessions.” The personable drummer tells about recording the album at Young’s ranch in 1988.

 

Guest Interview with 1960s Seminal Blues and Rock Keyboardist Barry Goldberg, by Jeff Tamarkin

Text (c) Jeff Tamarkin, 2013

Images from the Internet

Reprinted with permission by Jeff Tamarkin

 

Earlier this year I did an interview with keyboardist Barry Goldberg for a British blues magazine that then elected not to publish it. Rather than see it disappear into the void I'm presenting it here for anyone who's interested. Goldberg was best known as the keyboardist in Michael Bloomfield's Electric Flag. He also played with Dylan at the 1965 game-changing Newport gig and has done a ton of other stuff. At the time I interviewed him he had just finished recording a new blues album with Stephen Stills and Kenny Wayne Shepherd. That has since come out (under the name the Rides) and the band did tour, but at the time I had not yet heard the record.

JT: How did you come to record a blues album with Stephen Stills and Kenny Wayne Shepherd?

 

BG: My friend Elliot Roberts, Stephen and Neil’s manager, said, “Stephen said he would like to do a blues-oriented record. Why don’t you guys get together?” We knew each other a long time ago from doing the Super Session album. We’ve seen each other from time to time but we weren’t really that close. I contacted him and they set up a writing session for Stephen and me to at Stephen’s house. We were just hanging out and he started playing some licks on the guitar and it blew me away. I forgot what a great guitar player he was. Then he started singing and one thing led to another and the vibe carried itself to a blues-rock kind of feeling. We were fooling around with some grooves and I had a couple of things in mind. My idea, after I heard the great guitar playing, was to make the vibe guitar-oriented with a lot of room for him to play soulful licks and sing as well. We instantly connected. It was like finding a new soul brother. We didn’t live far from each other and we wrote two or three things together and then the idea was not just to have a younger guitar player but a really hot young guy who can really play. A few guys were mentioned—John Mayer was one of them and Jonny Lang and Kenny Wayne Shepherd. Kenny’s always been one of my favorite young guys so he came in and all three of us started writing together at Stephen’s studio with the idea not just of writing songs together but getting ready to do an album together. The original concept was a jam kind of thing but then Kenny came up with some great grooves, Kenny came up with some lyrics and I came up with some hooks. The three of us were like a special force. We got along great together. It wasn’t a forced project where you put people together that had nothing in common. We all had our roots that were deep into the blues and rock and roll, and it was a natural transition for the three of us and it started flowing. We wrote five or six songs together, four of which the three of us wrote on the album. It transcended into something more than just a jam record.

JT: Stephen said you were originally going to call it Super Session 2.
BG: That was the original idea. It was Bill Bentley’s idea but for whatever reason we weren’t allowed to use that name. The first song that Stephen and I wrote together was called “Can’t Get Enough of Your Love,” and Kenny Wayne said, “Why don’t you just call the album Can’t Get Enough?” Stephen’s sounding like Joe Cocker. His singing is phenomenal from the first song on. It’s a whole other thing. And his guitar playing—Kenny Wayne brought out the energy from both of us. We needed that young guy to come along and bring the electricity.

Who is the rhythm section on the record?
BG: Kenny Wayne’s drummer, Chris Layton, who played with Stevie Ray—Kenny said, “We’ve gotta send for him.” At first he couldn’t make it but the right things took place and he came in. He’s an unbelievable shuffle and blues and rock and roll drummer. Then Stephen chose the bass player, Kevin McCormick from Crosby, Stills and Nash. They each felt really comfortable with the choice of the other two guys and then Luis Conte was brought in for percussion. He’s phenomenal; he’s a Cuban guy. We went to the studio and I wouldn’t say it was intense but the energy demanded itself to get to another level. There was no fooling around; it was business. The grooves came out—I don’t even know if there are any second or third takes. It just happened in the studio—EastWest Studios on Sunset. The producer, Jerry Harrison, was supervising—he worked with Kenny Wayne before—and this guy E.T. [Eric Thorngren], who does a lot of Kenny Wayne’s records, was the engineer. I was happy. I wouldn’t say I’ve been in the minor leagues but I haven’t been in the major leagues for a while, in an A studio. The luxury of that, and the luxury of Stephen’s guys and Kenny’s guys tuning my piano and bringing this over and “What do you need?’ is something I haven’t had for a long time. That was wonderful for me.

JT: Are you playing organ or just piano?
BG: I’m playing B3 and piano.

JT: Are there any cover songs?
BG: Jerry had an idea to bring in Iggy Pop’s “Search and Destroy.” Stephen and I couldn’t relate to it but Kenny Wayne thought it was a great idea. As soon as we got into it, the young kids in the studio—Stephen’s daughter and Elliot’s son—went crazy. So Stephen and I looked at each other and said, “Yeah, OK.” Then Stephen came in one day and said, “I want to do this song.” And it was “Rockin’ in the Free World.” He said, “I want to do this for Neil.” Wow! It’s really a great version of the song. So it’s very diversified. But it all fit. There’s a couple of traditional blues songs on there and the songs that we wrote. Kenny Wayne’s singing, Stephen’s singing. It’s just a fun record, a really cool record. The name of the band is the Rides because Kenny and Stephen are into cars. Gary Burden designed the album cover. He does all the Eagles and Crosby, Stills and Nash and Neil’s stuff.

JT: Are you going to tour behind it?
BG: They said something about going out for three weeks in August, after Stephen is done with Crosby, Stills and Nash.

JT: You’re also involved in a new documentary called Born in Chicago. What is the story behind that?
BG: I was involved in producing it. That was almost five years of trying to bring that story of the guys from Chicago—who really didn’t get the recognition for what they contributing to the rock and roll arena. They were just as important as the English guys in bringing the blues to rock and roll. That’s the story of how we learned first-hand; being from Chicago it was just a few miles away from us. We could go as teenagers and a group of us—Butterfield, Bloomfield, myself, Nick Gravenites, Harvey Mandel—you went to the South Side and the West Side to discover first-hand from the masters: Wolf and Muddy. And in reverence and respect and dedication it wasn’t at all considered a ripoff, it was out of love.

JT: You played with Muddy and Wolf.
BG: Oh yeah. We were like freaks at first, these young white kids. They were so nice to us. Whatever we needed to know about the music, about them—they became an extended family. They took us in and we played alongside them. When Otis Spann wanted to take a break he called me and of course Muddy noticed that it wasn’t Otis Spann on piano. But eventually, after months, I did get it right to where it didn’t bother him that I was playing. We just learned so much from them and we gave it back when we played the Fillmore and Michael introduced Muddy and B.B. King to Bill Graham. It was in reverence, which we carry with us today in our band Chicago Blues Reunion. What we’re trying to accomplish with this documentary is to bring more of an awareness to who we were and what we did, us and Nick Gravenites and Janis Joplin. And Dylan—when we played at Newport it was Sam Lay and Michael and myself. Even the sessions with Mitch Ryder, “Devil With a Blue Dress On,” there’s blues influence in my licks that I play on that record. it was a number one pop record but it couldn’t have happened without he Chicago blues.

JT: What drew you to the blues originally?
BG: We all came from different backgrounds. Michael was a wealthy kid from the suburbs. I had lost my father and the family lost all our money and I was not doing well after my father died. I became sort of a delinquent, a wayward child looking for something different. Rock and roll was always there—Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Fats Domino, Buddy Holly. Fooling around with the dial sounds like a cliché but I had a little radio and I tell the story in the movie and it’s true, that I found this station at the end of the dial, WGES, and this show called “Jam with Sam.” It was on at midnight and he created another world for me, with the reverb, and then Wolf came on. It was like supernatural, surreal. I’m in my bedroom and all of a sudden, what is this music? Jimmy Reed! It created things inside of me. I got a great feeling from rock and roll and the Spector records but this was something else. This was a mystical kind of voodoo. I met Michael in high school and we had rival bands competing for sweet 16 parties. That was the cool gig because there were no other guys there. He said, “You should come down with m to the South Side or the West Side. I’ve been going down there and striking up relationships with Howlin’ Wolf and Muddy.” So I did one time. We went to Silvio’s and there it was, another world. We played “Killin’ Floor” with Howlin’ Wolf, we met Muddy. I sat in with Otis Rush. They were so nice and took us in like family. My family wasn’t there for me so in a way they were my uncles. We didn’t even realize how great it was learning from the greatest poets and painters of that era. That would never happen again but it was happening in Chicago. Once you got it, you got it. Wolf told me that he got it from Robert Johnson and he said, “You better have it ’cause you playing with me now.” At first it was a joke—we were like a novelty, little white boys. They loved it because more white people would come in and spend money. Then the blues moved to the North Side, when Old Town was like the Village in new York—a lot of folk singers. Michael was doing an emcee thing at one of the folk clubs, bringing in Big Joe Williams, Sunnyland Slim, Hammie Nixon, and introducing them to the college kids. It was a freaky scene. Then Butterfield started playing at this club called Big John’s. they were an interracial band, with Sam Lay and Jerome Arnold and Butterfield and Elvin Bishop. It was a black and white joint; there was no color; it was about the music and about people that loved the music. People from Second City came in—David Steinberg. Ken Nordine came in, pool hustlers. Wires hanging from the ceiling. And all this time, J.B. Lenoir, Otis Rush, Muddy Waters, James Cotton, Buddy Guy—they all came in to play along with Butterfield. Then Steve Miller and I had a band that followed Butterfield at the Big John’s club, the Goldberg-Miller Blues Band. We also had a black drummer—not intentionally, it just happened.

JT: Fast forwarding a little bit, what do you remember about Newport ’65, playing with Dylan? Did you have any clue what he had in mind?
BG: Not at all. When we did that we opened it up for everyone to do and it wasn’t easy. Butterfield asked me to play with him and Michael at Newport. We all got in the car and drove. We didn’t really get out of Chicago that much so this was a big adventure. We went to Newport and when we got there, Paul Rothchild, who was Butterfield’s producer, said, “I don’t hear a keyboard with the band at all,” without even hearing me. So Paul said, “Sorry, man, but our producer said that you can’t play with us.” So I was incredibly bummed. I was there alone in a strange place. The next night there was this big party and Michael had played a few months earlier on Dylan’s record “Like a Rolling Stone” in New York. Bob said, “I don’t know if my keyboard player was gonna show”—that was Al Kooper—“and I don’t know what to do.” Michael said, “This is my friend Barry Goldberg.” Bob said, “Would you like to play with me tomorrow night?” We rehearsed the next afternoon and people were not liking the electric music—Peter Yarrow and Pete Seeger were giving us dirty looks. So we went on and Bob was black leather and the whole deal and Michael was just blasting away. We went into “Maggie’s Farm” and we did another song and then “Like a Rolling Stone.” I felt that we were definitely all on a mission. It was something new. Al Kooper did show up and there were two pianos, but on “Like a Rolling Stone” Jerome Arnold couldn’t get the changes so Al played bass. I’ve felt, and Sam Lay felt, that something different was happening, something great. When you do something different, most of the time people aren’t going to accept it. This was so different for these people, that when we were done playing “Like a Rolling Stone” I felt so energized on another level—it was like the magic from Dylan transferred into me and to this day I carry that.

JT: Were people definitely booing?
BG: Some people booed and some people liked it and applauded.

JT: How did the Electric Flag come together?
BG: I was playing in New York, doing the Mitch Ryder stuff, and Michael had this concept that he came to me with. I was doing some session work in New York and he said, “I want to start an American music band,” with all different elements of American music: Stax, R&B. He knew I knew about Percy Sledge and R&B and the Phil Spector sound. He covered the blues. He said, “I want to have a horn section so we can do ‘Try a Little Tenderness’ and ‘Higher and Higher,’ and I want you to help me put it together. We decided we were gonna use Harvey Brooks, who was the premier session bass player in New York. We didn’t think he’d ever leave but he jumped at the chance. Then we went to the show where Mitch was playing, the Murray the K show, and the drummer was Buddy Miles. Michael and I looked at each other and there’s this guy who was rocking the whole theater to “Midnight Hour.” We took Buddy back to the Albert Hotel, where Michael and I always roomed together—it was a real funky, filthy Village hotel. We bought like four boxes of Oreo cookies. We laid Buddy down on the bed and kept dropping cookies in his mouth. After the fourth box and telling him he could meet all the flower children girl groupies in San Francisco, which I knew nothing about, and he could run the city, Buddy said OK and Pickett was not happy about it. For a year he was threatening us. But that was the nucleus. Nick Gravenites was already in San Francisco looking for a place for us to start rehearsing. We all got there and Susan, Michael’s wife, was sort of like the den mother, the house mother. She took care of us. The first warmup gig was at the Fillmore West. The next gig was Monterey Pop.

JT: What was your take on Monterey?
BG: That was another moment where I felt that something exhilarating was happening in my life. I’d never seen so many people, like 50,000. I was hanging out with guys like Brian Jones and meeting the Mamas and the Papas. I though we really came through, having the horn section and having Buddy. People had never seen anything like that. Only to be blown away by Otis Redding. He was, to me, the greatest thing I’d ever seen. We didn’t even know if the flower children would understand what he was doing but they really did. Soul is a universal thing and when he came out with Cropper, oh my God. I remember Ravi Shankar, I remember Otis Redding and Jimi Hendrix. Those were the highlights for me.

JT: Of all the solo records you’ve done, do you have a favorite?
BG: Probably Stand Back! with Charlie Musselwhite. That’s one of my favorite records, and a record I produced called Blue Night by Percy Sledge. The guitar section was Bobby Womack, Steve Cropper and Mick Taylor. We got the Soul Album of the Year award and W.C. handy and Grammy nominations. Percy has always been my favorite R&B singer so to get to work with him in the studio was the most beautiful experience.

JT: What is your feeling on the blues today?
BG: There’s guys that are carrying on the tradition. It’ll never happen in Chicago like it did or anywhere else but it’ll never die. You can still hear the influence today of the Chicago blues. Not only New Orleans blues but Chicago blues. Guys like Gary Clark Jr. and Robert Cray and Kenny Wayne—he lives for the blues. To talk blues with a 34-year-old kid and there are kids coming up that are younger than that, hopefully the film will tie it all in and the young kids will hear it. That’s another point of this film is to educate to the kids how this whole thing evolved and how important it was. Maybe some of them will listen and go back and say, “What is this?” like we did. Because it’s magical.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KRWgtYtrrj8

DVD Review: Here We Are in the Years: Neil Young’s Music Box

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen, 2011
Images from the Internet



Here We Are in the Years: Neil Young’s Music Box
Produced and directed by Alex Westbrook
Narrated by Thomas Arnold
Sexy Intellectual
120 minutes, USD $19.95
Chromedream.co.uk
MVDvisual.com

I can’t remember now, as it’s been years, if I read it or some musician told me directly that when someone wants to interview him/her, first the reporter gets asked what they think of Neil Young. If the potential interviewer is not a fan, the Q&A doesn’t happen because obviously they are just not knowledgeable, or cool enough.

To be honest, before the mid-1980s, I would not have been on the interviewer list. All I knew of Young, essentially, was Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, and I put them in the same category of boring as Kansas, Rush, and any of those other guitar-meandering Classic Rockers. Hey, I was a punk, and I liked my music short and brash, with some exceptions (usually produced by Phil Spector, Brian Wilson or George Martin). Then someone at work gave me a copy of CSNY’s Greatest Hits. While I still found the first couple of songs meh, starting with “Teach Your Children,” I found that I selectively liked them. Of course, from there, the trail led to Buffalo Springfield and Crazy Horse, and I found myself a Young fan. It’s true, rust never sleeps.

To the casual listener, Neil Young may seem like an auteur, but the man has been changing to different styles and genres every decade or so, along the lines of a Frank Zappa, the Who to some extent, or, if you’ll pardon the connection, Madonna. His career has been multi-faceted, to say the least, and this British documentary is out to show his path.

From Toronto, Neil Young (not to be confused with Yonge St.) was born in 1945, being just the right age of around 10 at the birth of rock and roll. Clips of Chuck, Little R and Elvis (singing “Tutti Frutti”!) are used as examples of what Young was seeing. But it was Roy Orbison’s pure vocals and style that touched Young. Later Young would write “The Birds,” which has an Orbison-esque tone, and contains the lyrics, “It’s over / It’s over.”

Having moved to Winnipeg when he was 16, he started being influenced by the surf instrumentals of the likes of the Ventures, Link Wray, and the Tornados, as he became more and more obsessed with the guitar. Around this time, he started his first band, the Squires. And then Mersey Beat hit. Being Canadian, he probably had better access to the early British sounds than those in the US, and like everyone else, he drawn into the new variations, especially the double guitar attack of The Stones’ Brian Jones and Keef.

And that is just the start of this two-hour look at Young’s life and career (mostly the latter). As usual in this series, there is more focus of thoughts, beliefs and opinions by music writers and historians than the actual musicians who played with Young, though two of his early band mates tell some tales: Ken Smyth (The Squires) and George Tomsco (The Fireballs). Along with this series’ usual suspects and critics, the likes of Anthony Curtis (Rolling Stone mag), Johnny Rogan (Neil Young: Zero to Sixty), and the ever present Nigel Williamson (Neil Young: Stories Behind the Songs), joining them is one of my favorite musicologists, Richie Unterberger, who wrote amazing books about the Velvet Underground and The Who, among others. It is so good to see him get his own thoughts in.

The subtitle of the DVD is accurate, as there are many great points about Young’s music and especially influences, sometimes played right after each other. Among those people and styles who had sway in his styles presented here include Randy Bachman (pre-Guess Who / BTO), Bob Dylan / Ian & Sylvia / Joni Mitchell, punk, Devo’s electronic bent, and neo-punk like Pearl Jam, who appeared with him on MTV Video Music Awards in 1993.

Of course, he also had an even larger influence on others, mostly good, but occasionally icky, such as Kurt Cobain’s suicide note quoting one of his lyrics. But that is all part of the mythos that is Neil Young.

Young, as Anthony Curtis states, “Can’t be written off.” He is still touring, still writing, and still recording. And possibly grumpy as ever.

The extras include a seven-minute-plus interview with one of his earliest band members, Ken Smyth, in a piece titled, “A Brief History of the Squires.” This includes a number of rare still photos of the band, shown under Smyth’s narration. His story of how they broke up gave me a smile.

There is also a collection of contributor bios, giving some back-up to the many critics and historians who appear within the DVD, but as with most of the series, the text is too small to read on the small screen (I have a 19”); not everyone has a large plasma, y’know.

If you’re a die-hard Young fan, odds are there may not be much new information, other than opinions and conjecture that you haven’t heard before, but I find it positive, because for casual fans there is a lot of new material and insights, presented in a measured yet enjoyable way.

Most of this series concerns British music (next up for me is about Robert Plant), and a slice of American rockers, but this is one of the few Canadian acts I’ve seen them cover. Nice. Meanwhile, I’ve heard that there is a town in north Ontario…

Bonus Videos:

Ode to a Mixed Tape – Nova Scotia, Fall 2003

Text © Robert Barry Francos
Images from the Internet

This tape was created for a very long drive from New York to Nova Scotia. It was the last tape I made before switching to mixed CDs. As always, I have tried to find the original release of the song as it appears on the tape, and if that’s not possible, a live version. However, much of the music I listen to is indie stuff, so it’s kind of hard to find.

SIDE ONE

Mary Lou Lord – His Indie World
This was off her first EP, arguably one of the strongest of her releases, on SubPop. She recorded in Seattle (before being famously chased off by an off-center rocker rival), but comes from Boston, with a history of busking on the subways there. In this tune she complains that her boyfriend wants to listen to said indie music while she’s more interested in “my Joni (Mitchell), my Nick (Drake), Neil (Young) and Bob (Dylan), you can keep your Tsunami, your Slant 6 and Smog.” In this song, she mentions a ton of bands, most of who went on to further fame: “I said ‘What’s the story?’ / He said ‘Butterglory’ / I said, ‘What’s the news?’ / He said ‘The Silver Jews’”). Check out the lyrics on the Web, they’re quite fun.

The Good – Judy
Bernie Kugel redid the song when he was in Mystic Eyes, but way before that, his original band, the Good, did a lower-fi version for Tommy Calandra’s BCMK Records (that’s Buffalo College of Musical Knowledge). The swirling keyboards take the listener on one of Bernie’s many great pop garage tunes of the era. While we’re still waiting for “Mail on Sundays” to come out, I am happy with this cut. Both versions of this song are great, but this one, being the one I heard and learned to love first, holds a warm spot in my heart.

The Byrds – Eight Miles High
As someone who is not into hallucinogenics (though the band seemed to have been from the video I’ve seen of them doing this song live on German TV, they’re so obviously stoned), I still find this song to be powerful. McGuinn’s 12-string just sings in this classic. Yeah, Husker Du did a decent version, but cannot compete with this one. Usually, long songs with solos are not my speed, but this one is different. Yet, my fave Byrds song remains “Child of the Universe,” their theme song to the film Candy (I have it on another tape).


Blues Magoos – (We Ain’t Got) Nothin’ Yet”
This is one of those iconic guitar-and-keyboards songs from the late ‘60s, with a pounding, dum-dum-da-dum rhythm. You hear any part of this song, it’s instantly recognizable. One of the first hit self-bragging songs I know of (“You know we’ve got what it takes / But we ain’t got nothin’ yet.). Couldn’t copy the song, so here’s the link: youtube.com/watch?v=GOGRTLn2uKY

John Otway – Josephine
I’ve been a fan of Otway since the late ‘70s, when his Stiff Records were released. Teamed with fellow guitarist Wild Willy Barrett, he was just insane, but after they split, John started his second stage, which allowed him to do more serious songs, such as this one. The topic is of a local harvest festival, and the teen that is chosen to lead it (“And the crowd screams “Josephine / Our May Day eyes are on you”). Otway has a unique voice, both phrasing and style, and he always seems to be enjoying himself. There is a greatest hits package of his, and I highly recommend it.


Phil Ochs – The Highwayman
One of many songs based on the Alfred Noyes poem (actually, John Otway has one, as well); this is probably the best known. It’s a long piece (and a longer poem), but Phil keeps the interest high as “Bess the landlord’s daughter” makes a futile sacrifice for her highwayman lover. It’s a romantic piece, for sure, but the title character’s actions at the end seem to nullify. And yet, it remains a beautiful song. The video is a wilted, live version, rather than the feisty recorded one.


3 Days Grace – I Hate Everything About You
This song came to me by way of a three-song give-away disk at some store. I was instantly entranced by the emotion of it. At the time, I mentioned it to a friend, Vonny, and she said that she didn’t like the singer’s voice. Thing is, she’s actually right. Yes, I still like this song, but every other thing I’ve heard from the band has left me cold. Good call, Vonny! My one amusing story about this band is when I was in an Ontario Zeller’s, and this song came over the PA. Seemed like an odd choice, even if the band is from Canada. There’s an official music video to this, but it’s verbally edited, so here is this one.


Linda Ronstadt – I Can’t Help It
The original Hank William’s one is arguably superior, but I don’t own any of his material on CD (the source for the rest of the songs), so I went for the Linda R one instead. I run hot and cold with Ronstadt: her ‘60s stuff (such as “Different Drum”) and Heart Like a Wheel country material are enjoyable, but I find the period after that and on (covers of Buddy Holly, etc.) kind of flat. This song shows some of her range.


Linda Ronstadt – Keep Me From Blowing Away
This sad, wistful song has a country feel, but it’s more modern country pop. And yet, again, I like it a lot. There have been many times I’ve felt like this song, wanting some kind of anchor, something solid in my life, to keep me grounded. She emotes well here, that feeling of restlessness.


Kris Delmhorst – Hurricane
This remains my favorite Kris Delmhorst song (so far). She equates a hurricane to the volatile relationship to which she’s currently involved (“I’ve always kept the company of clouds / I like my lightning bright, my thunder loud / I was never one for bluer skies / All that bright sun droning in my eyes / So blow me down, blow me down and leave me lying in your wake”). She’s still early on in her career, so there’s bound to be more great music to come. This is a live video, which is a bit distorted, but the sense is there.


Contraband – Hard Life
Howard Bowler and his brother David, of the Marbles in the heady CBGBs days, lead this folk / country / rock / jazz band, and now have at least three full length CDs out. A Howard original, this song is almost oppressive in its negative charge, with dissonant notes and pressed lyrics (“The sun is shining / And all I get is rain / Comin’ down so hard / It’s drivin’ me insane”). It’s actually a powerful song, and Howard’s vocals shine with just the right unflinching tip of bitterness. Like the blues, it’s in your face, and yet somehow makes the listener feel better.

Dusty Springfield – The Look of Love
Has anyone ever done a sexier version of this song than Dusty? Can they? I mean, she has a sultry voice to begin with, but this is one of her finest in this romantic mode. She practically whispers in your ear. Even her phrasing with pausing between words keeps you on your seat. Herb Albert’s horn also stands out here, with a couple of interesting false endings. This song just lulls me, from the first time I heard it in the ‘60s version of Casino Royale (as Ursula Andress seduces Peter Sellers).


Bob Crewe Generation – Peter Gunn
This makes me think more of Courageous Cat and Minute Mouse more than Peter Gunn, but it’s a great iconic television theme song from the golden era of television; a classic noir in aural form.


SIDE TWO

The BKE – TBD
Can’t talk about these two demos yet, but there are gonna be a lot of happy fans out there.

Margo Hennebach – After All
There are two versions of this song, one on Margo’s second collection, Big Love, and one with her trio, Mad Agnes, Live at UH. This one is from the former, but they’re both done excellently, and I tend to listen to them both; I just had this one when I made the tape, though. Margo is one of my favorite modern singer-songwriters in the journeymyn tradition. With a hint of the Celtic, her songs are strongly supported by guitar and piano (both hers). I interviewed her the day of Woodstock II, just across the Hudson River from it, in fact. It was an enjoyable day, sitting on her porch and talking music (that interview can be read at this blog, dated October 26, 2008).

CSNY – Suite: Judy Blue Eyes
My cousin Ken’s favorite song, but I didn’t know that when I put this tape together. While CSNY were one of those groups that annoyed the crap out of me in the early ‘70s (along with Yes, Kansas, America, and all those other bands that it seems everyone listened to when I was in college before punk hit), but someone gave me a greatest hits CD, and this one grew on me. It’s a long ode to Judy Collins (from Stephen Stills), but it changes often (hence the “suite”), and is not cloying.


Maria McKee – You Gotta Sin to Get Saved
It was not Lone Justice that got me interested in Maria McKee, but an appearance on a TV show called Night Music, singing “Breathe” from her first solo release. Love at first hear. While there is a lot of subtly in Maria’s voice, damn she can belt them out good. This live in the studio recording from her record by the same name, is a bluesy, ballsy gospelly number that is nearly the female side of “Lightenin’ Strikes.” She tells her boyfriend “I could never shame you / Honey, you’re by pride and joy / But what’s a girl to do, now, daddy / I’m drowning in a sea of boys.” She further explains that “If I make an honest vow / To someday where a dress of white / ‘Cause scarlet’s what I’m wearing now.” Great song with a fun call-and-response chorus.

Al Yankovic – The Saga Begins
A freakin’ brilliant cover of “American Pie,” but with lyrics reflecting the fourth Star Wars film, Chapter 1. Weird Al tells the entire story here, in his usual witty way, using similar rhyme patterns to the original (“Oh my, my this here Anakin guy / May be Vader someday later / Now he's just a small fry / He left his home and kissed his mommy goodbye / Sayin' ‘Soon I'm gonna be a Jedi’”). I laughed all the way through it the first time I heard the song. It still bemuses me.


David Wilcox – The Kind of Love You Never Recover From
Off a sampler CD (two songs each from 5 albums), this was part of a tribute release for Christine Lavin, who wrote the songs. Wilcox’s reading is very spare, and full of emotion. The song is about wishing you had said something – the right thing – before your lover leaves (“At times like this when the moon is right / When the air is foggy like it is tonight / She'll think about what might have been / If she had just held on to him.”). It’s a sad song, but as with just about everything Lavin writes, it has a strong heart.

Barbara Kessler – Attainable Love
Another Christine Lavin-er from the same sampler, this time the topic is being in love with someone who is commitment phobic, wishing she could change someone unchangeable (“Add me to the list of women / Who think you'll be different with me / Add me to the list of fools / Who flatly refuse to see / That just like me....”).

Susan McKeown – Winter King
A strong Celtic tune from someone deeply associated with the genre. However, in this piece, McKeown also modernizes the arrangement to make it something else. Not with a disco-like beat some Celtic artists seem to have added (since those annoying dance-track Gregorian Chants), this is more rockish. I was going to put the next song from the CD, her killer version of “Aud Lange Syne,” but decided against it.

Leonard Cohen – Take This Longing
Gotta say, the opening guitar chord to this song is not my favorite. It’s clanky and annoying, but once the listener gets past that, the song unfolds. Unfortunately, I found after listening to this tape on the road that I had to crank the volume all the way up, because the car noise was drowning out Cohen’s soft voice. Still a great song, though (“Take this longing from my tongue / All the useless things these hands have done / Let me see your beauty broken down / Like you would do for one you love”). Yes, the man is more than just “Suzanne” and “Hallelujah.”


The Dictators – Next Big Thing
“I didn’t have to be here you know. I didn’t have to show up here. With my vast, financial holdings, I coulda be basking in the sun in Florida. This just a hobby for me. Nothin’, y’hear? A hobby!” With that, the opening cut to the ‘Tator’s first album starts strong and doesn’t let up. As they say later on in the tune, “We knocked ‘em dead in Dallas / And we didn’t pay our dues / Yeah, we knocked ‘em dead in Dallas / They didn’t know we were Jews.” Ah, the boys from the Bronx. I say again, DFFD. The video is a live version, without the intro, unfortunately.
s