DVD Review: Charlie Daniels Band: Live at Rockpalast 1980

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2013
Images from the Internet

Charlie Daniels Band 1980
Directed by Christian Wagner
MIG / WDR
76 min, 1980 / 2012
MIG-music.de
MVDvisual.com

I only saw the Charlie Daniels Band once, at Carnegie Hall in 1973. It was one of the first of many concerts I went to with Bernie Kugel after we became friends in high school. Why the Charlie Daniels Band, of all things, for a then-folkie (me) and a garage rock fan (Bernie)? They were opening for – and I kid you not – comic Robert Klein.

Back then, the only song of theirs I knew was “Devil Went Down to Georgia.” Okay, it’s pretty much the same now, except for a couple more. The difference is that I’m at an age when I can appreciate them now. I went through a country phase in the late ‘70s (yes, even as I was punking out; how much more punk could Hank Williams be, as he was arguably the Johnny Thunders of his day).

The CDB tends to be lumped together in the “Southern Rock” genre, but that’s not really fair. Most southern rock bands, like Lynyrd Skynyrd and Black Oak Arkansas (both of whom I interviewed in the mid-‘70s), were more Blues based, while the Tennessee-bred CDB is firmly country rock. Not the modern, crappy country of Shania Twain or Carrie Underwood (both of whom can truly sing, but are boring in their modernist style), but rather they are closer to the Grand Ole Opry than those who are appearing on particular that stage these days.

Essentially CDB is C&W with some rockin’ guitarwork, though their songs are varied in style. For example, some are quite reflective, such as, well, “Reflections,” in which Daniels remembers some close friends who are gone, such as his pal Ronnie van Zandt of the aforementioned Skynyrd. But he’s most famous for his story songs, such as “Legend of Wooley Swamp” (which sounds very similar to “Devil”), “Blindman,” another hit with “Uneasy Rider” (this has a similar patter to Charlie Ryan’s 1955 “Hot Rod Lincoln”), and of course, “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.”

There definitely is some blues here, though, such as “No Potion for the Pain” (powerfully sung by Taz DiGregorio), but country is more prevailing.

Daniels has a strong voice, both literally and figuratively, showing why the CDB has so much clout in the country market. It makes me ponder how strange it must have been in the audience of Westfalenhalle Dortmund in Germany, on that November 28, 1980 night, and hear their jingoistic “In America.” I mean this tune is directly in Toby Keith territory. The audience seemed to enjoy it.

How country are they? Just listen to “Long Haired Country Boy.” Tom Crain’s guitar wails just right. In fact, Crain is pretty formidable, as is Daniel’s actually. The entire band is solid from beginning to end. He even takes the lead vocals on “Cumberland Mountain No. 9.” I did note, however, that it is strange there’s no slide guitar in the group.

And what better way to end the set with a long, particularly raucous and upbeat version of the bluegrass classic instrumental, “Orange Blossom Special” (with a bit of others such as “Dixie” thrown in), showcasing their heritage and bringing a bit of Americana to the Rhineland.

For a video recording from 1980, the image is quite clear, and the sound is excellent, as is usually true from the Rockpalast series. From beginning to end, this is a classic C&W lover’s dream. It certainly made me smile. And that’s even without Robert Klein.

Band
Charlie Daniels: Vocals/guitar/violin
Tom Crain: Guitar/vocals
Taz DiGregorio: Keyboards/vocals
Charlie Hayward: Bass
Fred Edwards: Drums
James W. Marshall: Drums

Set List:
Funky Junky
Trudy
Jitterbug
Legend of Wooley Swamp
Blindman
Reflections
El Toreador
No Potion for the Pain
In America
Long Haired Country Boy
Uneasy Rider
Cumberland Mountain No. 9
Devil Went Down to Georgia
Encore:
The South’s Gonna Do It Again
Orange Blossom Special

DVD Review: Eric Sardinas and Big Motor - Live

Text © Robert Barry Francos/FFanzeen, 2010
Images from the Internet

Eric Sardinas and Big Motor - Live
Director not listed
MVD Visual, 2010
45 minutes, USD $14.95
Ericsardinas.com
MVDvisual.com

Eric Sardinas is deeply steeped in not just the blues, but the flowing Delta kind that twangs and vibrates to the soul. Leading a twosome rhythm section dubbed Big Motor, Sardinas surges through the big muddy.

Let me backtrack. This DVD is presented as a 45-minute television program titled Mav Music Live. There are other artists who have appeared on MML, such as Todd Snider, but whether it’s an actual program or just a DVD series, I’m uncertain. Keeping with a TV format, there are blackouts for commercial spots and interviews. Well, all three are present, but only Sardinas talks as the other two sit behind him, cigarette and whisky firmly in hand. Though he comes off a bit egocentric, the music is certainly worth a listen.

As well as being a musician, Sardinas is also a performer, who moves and slithers around his guitar like a snake in a desert. Ah, the guitar. It’s a retrofitted resonator that is electrified; usually it’s acoustic, and designed to produce a louder sound than a wood body to be heard over other instruments. The sound uniquely twangy, and so is used mostly by both blues and bluegrass artists.

Anyhoo, Sardinas uses his instrument as a McLuhan-esque (Cronenberg-esque?) extension of his own body, yet moving it independently so it sides up at different angles from his frame, all the while plummeting the strings from both hands, one plucking the strings and the other either holding them or running a bottle neck for a slide effect. It is very effective, as is his trademark black Stetson and, well, outrageously iconic southern rock garb (gaudy boots, etc.).

Some are going to want to compare him to other southern rockers, a la Skynyrd or Black Oak Arkansas, but I find a lot of Son House in his plucking style (the resonator helps). Still, he creates arrangements that make the songs his own. Supporting him Big Motor is Levell Price, an amazing bassist, and equally talented Patrick Caccia (from Milano, Italia) on drums. They buoy up each other solidly on stage and in facial hair, each one in a different style (soul patch and sideburns, beard, and goatee).

The song selection and styles range from some covers by the likes of Elmore James’ “I’m Worried,” Mississippi John Hurt’s “Can’t Be Satisfied,” and Rory Gallagher southern rocker “As the Crow Flies,” to a few originals, such as “8 Goin’ South.” He varies from deep Delta to modern southern rock, all the while making the “guitar face” during the many flashy solos, where his fingers fly over the fretboard. He’s definitely the star of the band, and he shows it to the max (or is that Mav?).

It’s a pretty interesting venture, as he moves around the music as it’s flowing through him. Honestly, I’ve never heard of him before, but I bet he’s better known south of the – as Archie Bunker once called it – the Manson-Nixon Line. The fans in the club setting where this is filmed sure seem enthused.

During one of the interview sections, he states that he plays how is, with nothing added, but this just augments his self-preening, which is forgivable if one just listens to the music. As the last interview end, he states, “Let’s go get drunk!” Spoken like a southern delta blues rock musician.

Songlist
I’m Worried
Almost Done
Can’t Be Satisfied
8 Goin’ South
Love Me
As the Crow Flies

Bonus video (not from this DVD, though this song appears)

Bad Interviews: Lynyrd Skynyrd and Sparks

Text © Robert Barry Francos
Images from the Internet

While Arts editor at my college paper at Kingsborough Community College during early ‘70s, named The Scepter, I have had the opportunity to meet and interview some people who were dreams to interview, and others not as much. Admittedly, sometimes it was my own fault, others not. While I am still glad to have had these experiences, I sometimes look back and think, “Oh, crap.”

One example was a 1976 press conference with Ronnie van Zandt and other members of Lynyrd Skynyrd (supposedly named after Leonard Skinner, their high school teacher who hated them, but I secretly harbor the image that it was actually Leonard Skinner, the kid who got ptomaine poisoning after dinner on Alan Sherman’s “Hello Mudda, Hello Faddah”), who were publicizing their new album, Gimme Back My Bullets (I still have my autographed copy).

Being a college newspaper press conference, we walking into the small interview room at the record label, and Skynyrd came in shortly afterwards, and sat at a long table in front. They were being genial and drinking more Jack D. than I had ever seen before. And yet, they remained coherent through the whole jaunty interchange. I have to admit that I was still deep in the learning stage when it came to music – perhaps even way behind. J.J. Cale wrote one of the album’s songs, “I Got the Same Old Blues.” In my ignorance, I asked a question about it, mistakenly referring to “John” Cale. Ronnie rightfully corrected me quite pointedly and I was very embarrassed. After that experience, I started to do my homework on the bands and the people I was interviewing, whether I was a fan or not.

Being knowledgeable and a fan did not always help, though. I’d enjoyed the work of Russell and Ron Mael, the core of the band Sparks, from the time I had seen them on one of the Friday night concert-type series that proliferated the television airwaves in the early to middle 1970s.

Given the opportunity to interview them at the Essex House hotel in New York, (where they were touring to publicize their new Indiscreet album), across the street from Central Park, I showed up both on time and informed, with an assigned Scepter photographer, Mike Cohen. Mike was a jazz hound and did not have much interest in rock. It was a late Friday afternoon and, unknown to us, we were the last interview the Mael brothers were to give before the concert the next night, after an entire week of publicizing and meeting reporters. And they were exhausted.

I walked into their suite with Mike, quite enthusiastic and definitely up, sitting across from two musicians who meant something to me, which was quite the change from most of the bands I had been interviewing. Wanting to start on a high note, I asked a detailed question that was to convey both that I was a fan, and also knowledgeable about their music. The response I received from Ron was, basically, “Uh hunh.”

It didn’t get much deeper than that from then on. Lead singer Russell didn’t talk much at all, trying to save his voice for the concert as he sucked on some tea. Ron did most of the answering, such as it was. But after a week of answering questions by other larger press, they were shot and just did not want to deal anymore. The bottom line was they just wanted us out of there, and I was too zealous to notice.

Not making the situation any easier for anyone, I would occasionally turn to look at Mike in desperation and perspiration, and whenever I caught his eye, he would silently mouth, “He looks like Hitler!” (referring to Ron’s Chaplin-esque mustache). I was crushed.

A week later, when the publicity machine filled me in how we were the last in a long list, I understood, and never held it against the band (besides, I took the opportunity to see them live at Lincoln Center, with the revamped san Ian Hunter – and terrible – Mott). People in the public eye do not realize that while being interviewed is hard, interviewing is also hard. Sparks were tough, but I still managed to get in 40 minutes of questions. Poor boys. But I still have my autographed 8x10.