Text
By Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2019 Images
from the Internet
LindedIn.com has become the Top Dog when
it comes to job search enhancing tools, even when you are not using it for job
searching directly. Here are three additional perspectives on how to maximize
LinkedIn when looking for a job.
Your
Profile
Rather than just repeating your resume
on LinkedIn’s Profile page, remember
that there is a good chance that the employer is searching your name on the
Internet because you have sent in a resume and they have come across your
LinkedIn profile. Rather than just putting in the same information that they
probably already have, you can add more to boost your story. Rather than three
bullet points of information, you can add as many as you like, giving a more
complete picture of your skill set and experience.
Also, you can add historical insights
that would not have been placed on your resume or cover letter that will enhance
your chances. For example, did you win a prize for volunteering in a totally
different area than in which you are looking for a job? Did you take any
courses that are not directly affiliated with your line of employment? Did you
finish any public projects that are artistic? While it would not fit into your
resume or cover letter, it is perfect here because it shows you go above and beyond.
Research
While your potential employer may Google
search you, you can likewise use LinkedIn to search the company. Most
corporations will have their own dedicated page with information about the
company, and any of its employees that have a profile on LinkedIn.
For example, if you are asked to send a
resume to the email of jwentworth@thecoffeecup.com,
the salutation could be confusing: Mr. Wentworth? Ms. Wentworth? You may find
that person under your search of The Coffee Cup Company on LinkedIn, as it will
show you who is affiliated with the organization. You search and find it is
Joan Wentworth who is head of HR, so you can address it as “Dear Ms. Wentworth.”
If you run into her in the elevator, forget the elevator speech because odds you will just annoy her. Instead, say
something like, “Sure is a nice day today; I’m feeling really positive,” and
then look straight ahead. You’ve given a positive message and she won’t feel
pressured. I certainly would not say, “Hey! You’re Joan Wentworth! I looked you
up on LinkedIn!” That can come across as uncomfortable.
Networking
One of the positives of living in a
small or big city is that the odds of you knowing
someone who knows someone is quite good. When you look up Joan Wentworth,
you may see you have some mutual connections to her. At this point, you can ask
those people if they would be willing to be your references, if they could put
in a good word for you, and/or ask what information would help you during the
interview, such as common interests.
Using these tools alone may not get you
a job, but they may just give you the edge to rise above the others with similar
skill sets and experiences.
Woodstock FAQ: All That’s Left to Know About the
Fabled Garden
Written by Thomas Edward Harkins
Backbeat Books
360 pages, 2019
When we were both Grad students at New York
University in the 1990s, Thomas Harkins and I would have some deep discussions
about music filled with humor and respect for each other's tastes. Oh, they could be very
different, with me being the punker and him the grunge-lovin’ hippie into Classic
Rock. And yet, we found enough common ground in musical acts like the Who and
Melanie to keep our conversations lively.
The FAQ series by Backbeat is a
bit of a misnomer in that it is not as the acronym states “Frequently Asked
Questions,” but rather more as the phonetic sounding of FAQ / Facts. Like
Harkins’ previous book from 2016, Pearl Jam FAQ: All That’s Left to Know
About Seattle’s Most Enduring Band (co-written with Bernard M. Corbett), he
takes both a deep look through a fans eyes, without being too sentimental, yet
manages to keep it quite personal at the same time. Feel the love, and light your
candle in the rain.
In his introduction, Harkins
rightfully states that Woodstock “is considered by many to have been the
definitive sociocultural event of the 1960s. It is also widely considered the
most famous concert of all time.” In my opinion, the Monterrey Music Festival
was the prologue and Altamont the conclusion, with Woodstock being the body of
the text, if you’ll pardon a print-era analogy.
Harkins takes a topic that has been covered
extensively and wisely uses a few formulas that work quite well. For example,
he starts with how the 3 Days Festival of Music and Art came to fruition, and
then discusses each and every band and/or musician who played over those days.
In most of other missives I’ve read that are dedicated to the sometimes grueling
weekend, there is a ton written about the main players (e.g., Janis, Jimi,
and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young), or they are mentioned right off the bat, and
some of the lesser knowns (Quill, the Keef Hartley Band, the Incredible String
Band, etc.) tend to fall by the wayside or as a footnote. Here, Harkins thoughtfully goes chronologically
through each and every one who performed. Nice touch, as some of the bands that
didn’t make the cut of the film or initial LPs are the ones I am less
familiar with and want to learn about more thoroughly.
Each of the chapters referring to the
bands are usually broken into three separate sections (with rare exceptions,
such as Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young who each get a prelude). The leadup to Woodstock (i.e., the
history of the band and its members) is subtitled “As the Seeds Were Sown,” the
Festival experience for that artist or group is “In the Garden,” and the post-experience
“The Harvest Reaped.” Each subtitle is followed by a relative quip, such as “Airplanes,
Starships, and a Side of Hot Tuna” for Jefferson Airplane’s later period.
What’s also impressive is that inasmuch
as Harkins is a fan, he also is not afraid to shy away from disruptive personalities,
nor is he reluctant to discuss substance abuses (like, was there anyone
there who wasn’t completely zonked on stage, other than probably Ravi Shankar?).
It’s in the third, post-concert section where this is especially true, with too many
of those falling into obscurity due to their own self-destructive devices and dependencies (or
of their management pulling power plays with the filmmakers during the festival,
for example).
Commented on – though almost not as an
exact focus – in this book is the sheer amount of songs about Woodstock by
the artists that were there (and in Joni Mitchell’s case, who arguably wrote what
has become the definitive number about it, she was absent). For me, more than “Woodstock”
with it’s iconic refrain “By the time we got to Woodstock / We were half a
million strong,” it was Melanie (Safka) and her “Candles in the Rain / Lay Down”
that speaks to me about it (“We all had caught the same disease / And we all
sang a song of peace”). Another example that Harkins mentions is Creedence
Clearwater Revival’s (CCR) B-side “Who’ll Stop the Rain,” which the author
describes as “at least, in part, a commentary to the band’s experiences at
Woodstock.”
Despite the number of pages, most bands
are given a few and concise sheets to sum up their histories and experiences, which is fine,
because as I stated, there has been a lot written about that period,
including by performers in their autobiographies, and not all of them match the
actual history of certain events, which Harkins also wisely addresses. Sometimes
it’s easy to tell when the author is excited about a particular band as there
will be a bit more about them, such as with the Grateful Dead; I made a note that
“Lots of post-Woodstock Dead by a Dead-icated Dead Head” (most pictures of
Harkins is of him wearing a tie-dye shirt…). It’s understandable to get excited
about one’s heroes, and that is a flag worth waving.
The author
I do have to admit that I don’t always
agree with some of Harkins conclusions, such as when he mentions Joplin's truly soulful
cover of the Bee Gees’ ‘To Love Somebody’ "which, even under these less than
ideal circumstances, added a dimension of emotion that was lacking in the 1967
pop original.” While I am certainly no fan of the Bee Gees’ output from “Jive
Takin’” onward, I think their early material is very moving even in it's pop music skin. But differences of
opinion are part of what makes music so visceral for us, so personal, and what
lead to our interesting conversations about it.
The final chapter deals with the
aftermath of the Woodstock Festival, including the films and follow-up concerts
that were Woodstock-centric (e.g., anniversaries). Harkins is correct to say
that part of the lasting legacy of the weekend was the film that followed, more
so I believe more than the three-record soundtrack that was released at first
(there have been ever expanded versions of the concert that have been circulated
since). One testament to this book is that after finishing it, it inspired me to seek out other media sources
and find videos of the performances and spent some time with those.
The book is thoroughly researched, and
there is lots of information for those of us who just don’t have the time (or
inkling) to read the mass amounts of tomes written about the subject. This is a beautifully
concise snapshot full of excitement about a topic of love and scholarly fanship.
According to the author, “About 8 years ago,
Rhino commissioned me to write up the history of my band, The Planets, as it
was a portrait of what it was like to not make it during the CBGB era. Yes, it
was 100% their idea.”
In typically Binky cynical fashion, this is
how he describes his “Single Notes” book. If you’re like me, and are a fan of
Philips, that would intrigue you more than put you off. Philips can be a
curmudgeon about most topics (lately it’s politics, though that’s wise in this
histrionic environment), but grumpy people can more interesting than placid
ones.
I had seen The Planets a few times over those
early years, when Tally Taliafellow was voxing it up. They were a solid band,
and even their covers rocked hard, no matter what genre they pulled it from. I
remember once at CBGB, I was horrified to hear them break out into “Boogie
Fever,” and made a face of disdain to my companion who rightfully (and
strongly) pointed out to notice how they were playing it, not what
they were playing. I think it was in that moment I realized that I was
impressed by the group.
Binky was the face guy who ran the place at one of my
fave St. Mark’s Place record shops, Sounds Records, and I would occasionally go
in and talk to Binky about assorted bands, what he was up to, like that.
Eventually, though, I had to stop going to Sounds because of budget, space for
LPs, and the sheer amount of time I would sort their racks (I used to say, “I
can’t go in because I can’t get out”). Because of that, for several years, I
lost touch with Binky, but now I follow him on Facebook. I’m fascinated by his
large knowledge and ownership of guitars.
One thing I have found about Binky is that he
is bluntly honest, and that comes across in the book. He easily points to
mistakes made by others, such as an ex- that managed the band for a while, and
doesn’t hold back errors and regrets in judgment he’s made regarding his
career. As he states on the first page, “But more than not, it was my own
career-myopia and/or hot ‘n’ cold ego that got in my way. Left me with a mouth
full of ashes.” The story about the right choice regarding Iggy Pop and Ray
Manzarek, however, is hysterical. Despite the negative tone of the title, this
is sometimes an incredibly funny book, more situational than hah-hah, though.
Early on, Binky discusses his influences,
which essentially follow the British path of Beatles-to-Stones-to-The Who
(especially Pete Townshend). While he doesn’t tell the story about Pete
throwing him his guitar at a show at the Met on July 7, 1970, you can find it eventually
by searching on Binky’s FB page if you so desire (or perhaps ask him?).
One of the things about being at the advent of
any scene, is that you get to meet people who some day may eclipse you in fame,
but that doesn’t mean it becomes name dropping when you talk about your
relationship with those future stars, such as they were. That was especially true
in the pre-CBGB days and well into it (including Max’s Kansas City, Mother’s,
etc.). The fact that Binky knew Johnny Thunders from going to rock shows before
JT joined the New York Dolls, or Paul Stanley of KISS even before that, comes
across as anecdotes rather than bragging, which is incredibly more – err –
credible and organic. Plus, there are a number of great stories about them in
here.
Many of the big players are here, like how
Binky became a big Ramones fan, but he is not afraid to hold back on his
opinions. Even though he states, “I have no intention of running a laundry lis’
of dis’ here…” in the very next two paragraphs he mentions “the inane juvenile misogyny
and unfunny wisecracks constantly spewing from the mouths of self-consciously
loud dimwits… exemplified by the Legs McNeil clique…”, and “Willy Deville, at
least a talent I admired, was, with me at any rate, one of the most two-faced
paranoid insecure people I have ever had to interact with.”
There are many times I agree with his
opinions, such as Talking Heads being a better band pre-signing as a trio. As I
said, this is a very brave and no-nonsense look back, and would not expect
anything less from Binky, honestly.
Meanwhile, Binky has had a run at a music career,
and even has a spankin' new album out as Binky Philips and the Planets – because
he has earned the right to name his own band that - called Established 1972
NYC. That and an earlier LP with Sara Lee and Mark Leyland are worth
checking out.
Binky is quite knowledgeable on the history of
electric guitars and is a collector as well, as his frequent posts portray, and
I can see him doing a write-up of that as well. Plus, you just know this
book is only a drop in the bucket on what he has experienced and stories to
tell.
In the long run, I would love to see him
expand these 45 pages into a full book, and I will happily read that, as well.
Introduction by Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2019
Images from the Internet
This article was originally published in FFanzeen, issue #8, dated 1981. It was written by our Managing Editor, Julia
Masi.
I’ve told this story before, but I’ll repeat it: the drummer of the
Stimulators, a young Harley Flanagan, was the first person I ever saw slamdance
among a very confused pogoing audience at a Siouxi and the Banshees show at Irving
Plaza. It baffled a lot of us at first, being horizontal rather than vertical, but
it was my introduction to live hardcore behavior. He was ahead of the scene.
Later, he would form one of the leading hardcore bands based in New York that
would influence many others, the Cro-Mags, and would publish an autobiography in 2016 titled Hard-Core: Life of My Own. The singer, Patrick Mack, died in
1983 of AIDS complications, which closed down the band. Bassist Denise Mercedes
would go on to play in heavy metal cover bands. – RBF, 2019
The Stimulators take their name from
tiny Chinese acupuncture needles that instantly alleviate pain at the nerve
endings. And like their medical metaphor, the collective talents of Denise Mercedes,
guitar, Patrick Mack, vocals, Nick Marden, bass, and 14-year-old Harley
Flanagan, drums, are a fast, sure, sure-fire cure for the disease of boredom.
The music is a high-decibel mix of
raw, gritty rock’n’roll, like “Cradle Robber,” “Loud Fast Rules,” and
reggae-style numbers. Most of the music is composed by the band’s raven-haired catalyst
and spokesperson, Denise, who formed the Stimulators in 1979, after playing
with Rat Scabies (of the Damned) in England. Patrick contributes some of the
lyrics, Harley works out rhythms and, recently, Nick has started writing.
Harley, in a recent documentary
They have a repertoire of about 25
songs, but oddly enough, they have only two singles to their credit: “Loud Fast
Rules” b/w “You Will Never Break My Heart” on the Irish label Good Vibrations
that is considered a collectors item, and an American release of “Loud Fast
Rules” with a flip side of “Run, Run, Run,” on their own Stimulators label that
is already out of print.
They’re taking their time before they
go back into the studio because, Denise says, “We are a very live band. To go
into a studio, which tends to have a dull sound; or not just the right sort of equipment;
or if you can’t record under the conditions you’d usually play under, it
creates this whole other sound that doesn’t sound like the band. And we didn’t
want to have this piece of plastic that doesn’t sound like us.”
They’re hoping to put an album out
this Fall that will include some of their older material, and is what Denise
sees as “the first of our albums. We’d like to do it our way, on our time. We’re
not sitting around and waiting for somebody to say, ‘Oh, here’s a record deal.’
Most likely somebody would want to have a big, heavy hand in producing it and
packaging it a certain way.” And their manager, Donald Murk, agrees: “If there’s
gonna be any big, heavy hands on it, they’re gonna be ours.”
Denise (right) in a metal cover band
The forthcoming album [a live recording, Loud Fast Rules is the band’s only full album, which was
released in 1982 in cassette form from ROIR – RBF, 2019] will be an attempt
to put on records some of the best of their old songs, so that they can be on
to new material for their sets. “People want to hear old favorites. Even with a
band like ours who doesn’t have three albums, everybody wants to hear stuff off
the first record. We’re a little bit being locked into playing our best stuff,
just to keep it active. So, I think this album might really help in wanting to
move on without wanting to give up the old stuff. You’d have to play for five
hours sometimes (to play at all),” says Denise.
Despite their limited amount of
records and radio airplay, the Stimulators are still one of the most popular
bands of the New York underground, partly because of their unofficial slogan Loud Fast Rules, which has been written
in every BMT subway car in the city and billboards in Staten Island by their
adoring fans.
“We just wrote it as a song,” added
Denise, “but it’s become an identity. In fact, people who have not even heard
the band have this preconceived notion of ‘Oh, yeah, the Loud Fast Band,’ which is okay because that’s still basically what
we’re doing. People really identify with it. We have people walk past us
yelling, ‘Loud Fast Rules!’, and they come in wearing it on their clothes. Most
bands don’t get identified by one slogan. It’s just a little thing people can hold
onto very easily.”
One thing the Stimulators haven’t
hooked onto easily is being labeled a “punk band.” “It would pay for us to
define ourselves in one word,” concluded Denise. “It’s just the music of now.
It’s 1981. We’re playing the music of 1981. It’s just a modern rock band.”
Images selected
by Brian Dickson from the Internet
The
Internet is loaded with trap doors. Today I reached the end of one random online
article or another, and there at the bottom of the page was a selection of
others. And, jarringly, one of them was titled, “Leon Redbone dead at 69.” A nice
feeling when that happens, isn’t it? Jump over to Google, type in the name to
verify, and there you have it. That old familiar jolt when someone you really
dig is gone – forever.
I
discovered Leon Redbone…when? You know, I can’t even remember. Let’s see. I’ve
never seen him perform live, and I greatly regret not buying a ticket to see
him at Hugh’s Room in Toronto in December of 2013. He played two shows on a
weekend, intimate acoustic sets that would ultimately be among his last live
performances. I never caught any of his guest spots on “Saturday Night Live” in
the 1970s, nor did I see him on the “The Tonight Show” in the ‘80s and ‘90s. And
I only recently learned of his stint at the Mariposa Folk Festival in 1972, and
how he became exposed to a wider audience with an assist from Bob Dylan. This
would lead to his signing with Warner Bros. and the release of his debut album,
On the Track, in 1975.
I
do have five of his albums on compact disc, though: On the Track, Champagne
Charlie (1978), Red to Blue (1985), Christmas Island (1987) and Whistling in the
Wind (1994). Island was sought out solely for Leon’s duet with Dr. John on
“Frosty the Snowman,” but that album has been a Christmastime favorite at our
house ever since. [Author’s note: Their rendition of “Frosty” takes on entirely
new meaning this Christmas, as Dr. John has, in somewhat perplexing fashion, passed
away only a week after Leon, on June 6, 2019.] But, for the life of me, I can’t
remember when I became tuned in to Leon’s music and his rag-timey charm. And that
seems just about right: mission accomplished on Redbone’s part. He once said,
however, “I don’t do anything mysterious on purpose. I’m less than forthcoming,
but that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m mysterious. It just means I’m not
inclined to go there.”
The
statement issued by his family today echoes the humor and eccentricity of his
craft, and of the man’s enigmatic persona throughout his life in music:
“It
is with heavy hearts we announce that early this morning, May 30th, 2019, Leon
Redbone crossed the delta for that beautiful shore at the age of 127. He
departed our world with his guitar, his trusty companion Rover, and a
simple tip of his hat. He’s interested to see what Blind Blake, Emmett, and
Jelly Roll have been up to in his absence, and has plans for a rousing sing-along
number with Sári Barabás. An eternity of pouring through texts in the Library of
Ashurbanipal will be a welcome repose, perhaps followed by a shot or two of
whiskey with Lee Morse, and some long overdue discussions with his favorite
Uncle, Suppiluliuma I of the Hittites. To his fans, friends, and loving family
who have already been missing him so in this realm he says, ‘Oh behave yourselves.
Thank you…and good evening everybody.”
Not
long ago my wife and I had a nice little gas fireplace installed in a back
room of our house, the one that leads out to the deck and then to the back
yard. During cold winter months here in Ontario Canada, on nights when the wind
and snow are howling outside and I am warm by the fire with my bulldog on the
rug by my feet, I like to sip on an aged rye whiskey over ice while the
firelight ripples across the ceiling. For a scene such as this Leon’s music is
custom-made, and I felt a playlist of favorites would be just the ticket. And
after a night or two of ‘settin’ by the fire,’ I was good with the arrangement
of tunes on my list, and I made a copy on CD for my older brother. He spends a
lot of time in his workshop; he occasionally enjoys a whiskey on the rocks, and
the shop’s got stereo speakers and a big ol’ wood stove.
Here is the track list for that mixed disc. Another reason for my
renewed interest in Redbone at the time was that I’d just discovered he’d
released what would be his last album of new recordings, 2014’s Flying By.
Note:
An excellent documentary short film called “Please Don’t Talk About Me When I’m
Gone” was uploaded to YouTube today. Have a look, it’s good.
This weekend - okay, yesterday - I attended a wedding reception in the small Alberta (Canada) town of Rosalind. The band that played there was the River Jacks.
Now, I'm more punker than a C&W guy, but this group was tight. Yes, there were lots of covers I didn't recognize, not being up on the latest country hits (I was more of a country fan up-to 1975) and they took me by surprise. I actually stayed longer than planned to hear them. That being said, they did a killer and much different version of "Take Another Little Piece of My Heart," one of the few pieces I did recognize.
The River Jacks are well known around the Camrose area (if I got the story straight, Chad went to Bawlf school with the Maid of Honor), and I'm not surprised. They are (alphabetically):
Tom Lichak (vox, guitar, bass)
Jeff Orom (drums / vox)
Myra Marshall (vox /guitar)
Garrett Richard (bass)
Chad Szott (guitar/vox)
If you get the chance to see them play at some fair or wedding or corporate event, and you're in a C&W bent, check 'em out.
Introduction by Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2019
Images from the Internet
This article was originally published in FFanzeen, issue #14, dated 1986. It was written by the effervescent North
Carolinian native Nancy Foster, now better known as Nancy Neon.
To be honest, I still am pretty unfamiliar with
this Georgia-based band. They were mostly around for the period of 1981 through
1989, but have reunited on and off over the years. Often, they are compared to
the scene that gave us quirky college rock bands like R.E.M., Pylon and Let’s
Active. In total they produced one EP, four studio albums, nine singles, and a
later live album. – RBF, 2019
Guadalcanal Diary has been lumped in
with the Athens and Southeast scene. Yet, they are really a Marietta, GA, band
with diverse influences that come together to make an arresting, hybrid. Some
connect them with the Byrds-like jingle/jangle magic of R.E.M., others try to pigeon-hole
them with the so-called country punk of Jason and the Scorchers and Rank and
File.
Yet, Guadalcanal Diary defies
categorization. Just as the Athens / Atlanta / Marietta axis is a crossroads where
lots of transient influences and ideas meet, so is Guadalcanal Diary a blend of
several styles. Whereas some bands sound like a variety show, jumping from one
genre to another, they diversify without being incoherent; they’re stylized
without being static or predictable.
I love the way they put the headbangers
off guard with startling versions of Cab Calloway’s “Minnie the Moocher,” a decidedly
non-headbanging, esoteric version of “Johnny B. Goode,” and a scathing,
sarcastic rendering of Syndicate of Sound’s “Hey Little Girl.”
It is, however, their original
material that really bewilders. Murray Attaway, the lead singer / guitarist’s
command post is the eye of the storm. He stands at attention in the middle of
the twin cyclones of Jeff Wallis and Rhett Crowe, who whirl dervish-like on
either side.
They set up a scenario that is both
musically and visually thrilling. Before their show, we had been talking about
how someone who had been talking about how the dBs fail to push the audience
past a certain point of excitement. I was coming out against histrionics and spoon-fed
hysteria. They agreed, but they said that they, themselves, did not put an emphasis
on entertainment. However, the spontaneous combustion that takes place onstage
ignites because of their love for, and dedication to, their music. This isn’t
choreography or rock star flexing, or self-parody.
We talked about how certain acts like
Billy Idol had been reduced to a set of conventional poses, i.e., the pout and
the fist. What you’re seeing with Guadalcanal Diary isn’t showbiz, it’s pure
joy.
The band expresses some concern that
their New York City Christmas Holiday ’84 debut had not ben auspicious. Yet, it
was so inspiring to see them gradually win over the Peppermint Lounge Saturday
night crowd, many of whom resembled “Dance Fever” outtakes as opposed to music
lovers. Despite that obstacle, they bombarded the audience with their
high-quality material. Pure Pop for Now
People was “Pillow Talk.” Rhett Crowe was so powerful on bass, and despite what
some myopic critics say about kudzu-covered confederate bodies, she is
definitely female. Her grass skirt with t-shirt, lei, and cowboy boots was the
fashion statement of the year. It’s the perfect embodiment of their
cross-cultural pollination. It's what you wear to a “Watusi Rodeo.”
Being in a changing environment,
experiencing the class of Old World Southern values and the modernization of
cities like Atlanta is part of what establishes the tension in their music. When
I asked whether being from the South brought a certain romantic and mystical
element to their music, Rhett agreed. Religion is a big theme with songs like “Walking
in the Shadows of the Big Man” (“Big Man” meaning God) and “Why Do the Heathen
Rage?” The latter is highly reminiscent of fellow Southerners from Memphis, Big
Star, circa 1974 [Big Star’s singer, Alex
Chilton, sang “The Letter” and “Cry Like a Baby with the Box Tops – NF, 1986].
When asked if something about the
water in Athens area makes great pop with a twist, the guys confided that once
the B-52s made it, “lots of bands came out of the woodwork.” They are, as I am,
amazed how every band with a Rickenbacker is called “Post-R.E.M.”
Other than their home state, they
also share a producer with R.E.M., Don Dixon of Chapel Hill, NC. Dixon was
suggested by their rec rod company, DB. They have played dates with the
Psychedelic Furs, Beat Rodeo, the Bongos, R.E.M., etc. They get some of their best
reactions in Rome, GA, Louisville, KY, Richmond, VA, etc.
One of the most unusual places they
played was Greensboro, NC’s Secret Garden, which had a garden in front of the
stage. Back to the show: the groovy Georgia quartet gradually won over the basically
stoic audience. Enlightenment is usually a gradual process. Yet when Guadalcanal
Diary moved in for the kill on “Trail of Tears,” it was musical cataclysm.
Murray Attaway was especially moved and moving on this one. Maybe it was my own
mist, but he looked misty-eyed.
Guadalcanal Diary accomplished a lot
on their second New York City gig, especially for a band on an indie label with
little exposure. Rave reviews of the album, heavy airplay for “Watusi Rodeo”
and a push on their video is remedying that fast!
“Watusi Rodeo” was the rave-up of the
night. Their Western influences (they did Johnny Horton, George Jones, etc.)
showed on this hilarious portrait of a rodeo star doing his thing on a rhino,
much to the dismay of African natives. Is this an exaggerated analogy of being a
hardcore Southerner in the wilds of the North? It is culture shock for both
parties.
As Jeff and Rhett said, “You can be wild
in New York City and have no one give you a second glance. But once they hear a
Southern accent, you’re an instant curio item.”
When I said that I thought it was a
healthy trend for bands like R.E.M., Let’s Active, and themselves to stay in
their hometowns instead of automatically moving to New York because of the
changes it could cause in their perspective and the music, Rhett said, “I
couldn’t live in New York City. It gives me claustrophobia. I think Southerners
are very close to the land; very territorial. Like, my father lived his whole
life in Smyrna (Georgia),” and they really want to keep the influences and
change out. They would build a wall, if they could.
This was intriguing me. It was all
becoming clearer: the world is changing so fast and vales are changing, too. In
this modern world, the Old South seems like an ancient culture. It’s solid and
secure. People like the music and are intrigued with the perspective because it’s
exotic – all those snake handlers and faith healers. The Southern world seems
as far away from cosmopolitan New York City as Hong Kong.
Guadalcanal Diary invites you on a
trip into another world full of beauty, soul and mysticism.
Currently living in Saskatoon (email at RBF55@msn.com for address). From 1977-88, I used to publish a print version of a music magazine in New York called FFanzeen, which dealt with the wide-ranging independent music scene. I also photographed many bands from the period (and since). Now I write this blog. And the beat goes on.
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